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And this is exactly why I fall more and more in love with Wyatt every day.
The first genuine smile I’ve had all day breaks across my face, and I nod and kiss him, knowing with all my heart that Wyatt is a good man, a trustworthy man, the best man I have ever known. I made the right decision, choosing to stay with Wyatt instead of running away from him when I got scared.
I climb off of Wyatt’s lap with heated cheeks when Mom steps into the room and holds William out for me to take. I cradle him to my chest and kiss his forehead, then take him into the nursery, where I spend the next few hours holding him and rocking him as he naps in my arms.
I’m exactly where I want to be.
Epilogue
Wyatt - 10 years later
“Ain’t happening, Wyatt!”
“Come on, babygirl,” I croon, infusing my voice with all the lust thrumming inside me, and cup her cheek. “Just one more. We can try for a little princess this time. I promise we can stop after that.” The kiss I plant on her lips is sweet but sensual, and I pull back enough to whisper huskily, “I know how much you love being pregnant and being a mother. Just think about it, please.” I rub circles over her soft belly that I hope will start to swell again with our next child if I can just tempt her into having one more.
Dolly steps back and swats at my hand. “I told you no, I’m not doing it again. You know how much I love our boys—more than anything else in the whole wide world—but I’m done. Five gigantic, vagina-breaking babies is more than enough, Wyatt.”
I groan as Dolly bends and gathers the pile of pillows and the blanket on the floor at her feet. She throws them into the hallway and stands in our bedroom’s doorway with one hand on her hip and the other on the doorframe.
“Please, babygirl. I’ll back off for right now. I can wait for you to be ready to talk about it later. Just don’t make me sleep on the couch. You know I can’t sleep without you. I promise to keep my hands to myself.” I raise my hands up like I’m innocent.
I’m not.
She tries to keep her voice down so as not to wake the kids, but her voice keeps rising as she lays into me. “Ain’t happening, Wyatt! I know you, and I know what day it is.” She narrows her beautiful blues at me.
Yeah, I know what day it is, too—eighteen months to the day after she gave birth to our fifth son, Waylon. I may or may not have thrown out the birth control pills she had to switch to after our third son, Walker, was born. And I may or may not have thrown out the emergency pack she picked up from the pharmacy this morning. She’s unprotected and ready for Daddy to breed her again.
Just how I like her.
Her eyes narrow to slits when I forget to hide my smirk, and she crosses her arms, propping up her generous tits, making me weak in the knees.
“I also know,” she bites out, “that the second I fall asleep, you’re going to fuck another baby into me, so you have to sleep on the couch until you get a vasectomy, and that’s final!’ Dolly slams the door closed—or at least she starts to, but then catches it before it shuts with a bang, which would wake the kids. She closes it softly with a huff and locks it for good measure.
The flimsy lock couldn’t keep me out if I really wanted to get in there, but I’m also not going to force her if she truly, in her heart of hearts, doesn’t want another baby, as much as the beast inside me salivates at the idea of breaking in there and using my tongue in her pussy to convince her to give into me.
I push the beast away and settle for hoping she’ll change her mind on her own before she gets her prescription refilled with another emergency pack.
The thought that we may never have another baby breaks my heart as I try to stuff my large frame onto our tiny (for me) living room couch. Even with the extra bedrooms we’ve built and added onto the house after Corey agreed to sell it to us, there’s no room for a spare bedroom for me to sleep in—not unless I want to sleep on the floor of the in-home daycare we added after Dolly earned her Early Childhood Education degree. Knowing I’d throw my back out if I did that, I groan and mumble my complaints as I try to get comfortable on the couch, which is impossible, and I’m only finally able to fall asleep out of sheer exhaustion.
* * *
I last a week.
Seven whole agonizing nights spent on the couch with my babygirl turning me away from our bed before I gave in and saw my doctor about getting a vasectomy. The earliest they could schedule the procedure is two weeks after that. That’s three weeks total of sleeping without my wife in my arms, my cock aching for her magic pussy. I’ve gone crazy, absolutely mental, and it doesn’t help that there will be a recovery time afterward, too.
The night before my vasectomy, after we finally have all the boys in bed, I sneak up on Dolly in the kitchen and hug her from behind. I moan at the feel of her in my arms, kiss the crook of her neck, and nip her earlobe. Damn, how I’ve missed the taste of her delicious skin, missed inhaling her scent straight from the source instead of jacking off in the shower with my hand coated in her strawberry body wash.
“Babygirl, please don’t make me beg,” I pant in her ear. “Let me touch you.” I toy with the hem of her oversized T-shirt, and when she doesn’t immediately push me away, I slide my hands under it and cup her braless tits. She moans and leans back into me when I pinch her nipples the way she likes and smear the beads of her leaking breast milk around her buds. “Just hands and mouth, I promise. Just let me get my mouth on you, and then I’ll go back to the couch.”
I can feel her indecision, her desire to be with me battling her desire to keep me at arm’s length until after my procedure, and I grin triumphantly into her hair. But then I make the fatal mistake of grinding my erection against her back.
She straightens her spine and spins around, pointing her finger at me. “Nuh uh, no sir! You forget how well I know you, Wyatt. I know all your dirty little tricks. The minute I let you get your mouth on me, you’re going to dick-whip me ‘til I’m begging you to fuck me and cum inside me. Ain’t happening!” She stomps her bare foot, then marches down the hall, taking her perfect pussy with her.
Goddamnit! I was so close.
After another awful night spent sleeping alone on the couch, Dolly’s mom and my mama come over to watch the kids so Dolly can drive me to my appointment. Not gonna lie, I shed more than a few tears as I hug William, Weston, Walker, Westley, and Waylon before leaving, knowing we won’t be having another baby.
It’s true each one was bigger than the last. Dolly would swear after each one was born that they were the last, that she was done. But she’s a better mother to our children than I could have ever hoped for, and we make the cutest, sweetest babies ever. It was never hard to convince her to change her mind.
