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“Then follow it,” I snarled, cradling her close.
We erupted against each other than, a mess of hands and lips and passion.
My hand meets with empty sheets now. I open my eyes and sit up, peering around the room. Everything is dusky with light.
The green digital-clock readout tells me that it’s four-thirty in the morning.
“Kimberly?” I groan.
Usually, she sleeps pressed right up against me. I wake with my hands buried in the sweet curviness of her flesh. Sometimes I tease her needy wet hole, circle it until she shivers awake and starts pumping against me.
“In here,” she calls from the end of the room.
The door to the ensuite is open, showing a small rectangle of light on the floor. I walk across the room – noting that maybe Kimberly is right, we could do with some more rugs in here – to the ensuite doorway.
Kimberly stands at the obsidian-marble sink, an object clutched in her hand as though it’s sacred.
Her hair spills down her back, her pajama top clinging to the curvaceous beauty of her breasts. My cock pulses, but I have to tame that part of me for now.
I look closer.
My heart pumps up into my mouth, somehow stopping my voice.
“Is it?” I gasp after a choked pause.
She turns to me, her smile radiant, her eyes shining with love.
“Yes, Kris,” she gasps. “I was so scared it wouldn’t be, but it is. It is. We’re going to have a baby.”
“I’m the luckiest man alive,” I roar, scooping her into my arms and spinning us around and around.
She giggles in delight and throws her arms around my shoulders.
“I love you,” she whispers, smiling radiantly, glowing. My manhood swells. “I love you so freaking much, Kris.”
“I love you,” I growl, placing her on the counter. I grab her hips, pulling her toward me, where she can feel all of me. “And I’m going to fuck you like I love you.”
“You better, Kris,” she moans. “You freaking better.”
Extended Epilogue
One Year Later
Kimberly
“Yes, that will be absolutely brilliant,” I say, rocking baby Jaqueline – or Lil’ Jacks, as most call her – in my arms.
I hold my cellphone to my ear, pulling faces at little Jackie as I finalize big Jackie’s latest art deal.
“I’ll give her the good news very soon. Thank you so much for all your help.”
“Oh, thank you,” Angelica Keenan says, one of the top art dealers in the city. “We absolutely adore your sister’s work. That stunt with the subway was very clever.”
I smile when Lil’ Jacks blows a spit bubble, her lips twitching upward into a mirroring smile. I feel my soul flare for my daughter. There is something inside of me now, a new piece.
Or more accurately my daughter is a piece of me, a gift.
I almost break down in tears just thinking that.
“I just wanted people to see her art,” I say. “And that was the most expedient way to get it done.”
I knew it was a good idea to use Kris’ union connections to get Jackie’s art – and her Twitter handle – plastered all over the city’s subway system. Jackie is free to work on her art now. She can leave the managing and publicity to the woman she trusts most. Her baby sister.
She laughs and hangs up.
I sit back, grinning as Kris walks into the room. I’m sitting in the walk-in closet, still in my office gear. Sometimes I’ll just sit here with little Jackie, feeding her, or just watching her.
Kris unbuttons his tie, shrugging his massive shoulders. His steel hair glistens in the lowlight. My husband has let his facial hair grow out a little, a spiky layer of iron across his strong jaw.
“You did it,” Kris grins, striding over to me.
I smile as he leans down, first kissing my forehead and then layer a tender kiss on Lil’ Jacks’.
“I never doubted you,” he says. “You’ve done it, Kimberly. You’ve done right by your sister. You’re so damn talented. When you put your mind to something, nobody can stop you.”
“I love you,” I whimper, as he embraces me, shielding little Jackie between our bodies.
“I love you,” he whispers fiercely. “I was thinking of our wedding on the way home.”
“Oh, really?” I smile.
“I miss it. I miss the way mother wept when she saw you in that dress. I miss the whole world seeing the message, loud and clear, that this fine ass belongs to me.”
I giggle. “Fine ass—hardly. More like pregnancy ass.”
“Enough,” he says sternly. “Your body has only gotten …”
He grins, chuckling, leaning back.
“I can’t say it in front of our girl, but you know what I mean,” he laughs.
“Spell it,” I smile, a teasing note in my voice.
He smirks at me. “Oh, Kimberly,” he says. “You know I’m all brawn and no brains.”
“Please.” I pout. “For me?”
He rolls his eyes, smirking. “S-E-X-Y. Happy now?”
