"Yeah, baby?" he growls. "You about to come?"
My answering moan makes him move harder and deeper, gripping my hips tight enough to leave marks for me to find in the morning.
"That's my girl. Come on, let it go for me. Give it all to me. Come on...come on..."
I can't hold it back any longer. Giving into the pleasure, I yell out his name as lightning courses through me. Vaguely, I can hear him grunting out his own release.
Knocking the still-pumping flanges from my breasts, he collapses onto me with heavy breaths and buries his face into my neck. "Damn, Mercy. I love you, woman. You hear me? You have my heart, my cock, and all of me."
Wrapping my arms and legs around him, I choke on a laugh at his ticklish mumbles as I try to regulate my own breathing. "I love you, too, Amos. I love you, too."
And I do, so much more than I thought would ever be possible.
Mercy
1 Year Later
"Mercy!"Amosbellowsfromupstairs, a hint of despair coloring his tone. "Help!"
"Coming!" I yell back. Keeping my snickering to myself, I grab another apple slice. A quick unlatching of the baby gate guarding the stairs and then I'm headed to Leila's room to rescue my poor husband. Crowned with a headful of chocolate ringlets and bright blue eyes, little eleven-month-old Leilani joined our family three months ago by adoption and has both Amos and me completely wrapped around her chubby little fingers.
Sweet as she is, though, her dirty diapers arenot. Especially when she's teething like she is now. We quickly learned the importance of keeping diapers and wipes in more than one room, but our supply downstairs has been depleted. Good daddy that he is, Amos offered to change her since I did the last one.
Following the pungent aroma, I turn into Leila's room and immediately lose my battle with laughter. A mountain of balled-up dirty wipes litter the changing table—even the floor—and a baby clad in a crooked, backwards diaper chews on a set of toy keys as her daddy dry heaves to the side with his shirt over his nose. While he's jumped headlong into fatherhood, basic diaper changing is still something he struggles with, let alone ones such as these. He gets anEfor effort, though.
"You all right, babe? What happened to her outfit?" I manage to get out through my tears from both the smell and my laughter.
Adjusting his shirt, he winces as he raises his head. "How—I repeat,how—something so cute"–he pauses to smile tenderly at a babbling Leila—"can produce something so foul, I'll never understand. It was all the way up her back, Mercy. Almost to her neck.I barely got her onesie off without getting it in her hair. Now, which cream am I supposed to use again?"
"The one in the purple tube. It's medicated and should help clear up her rash sooner."
When he reaches for it, a thought stops me. This new parenting gig is a little hard to get used to. "Wait! Since she had a blowout, though, let's give her a quick bath. Wipes are good, but I'd rather her go to bed super clean."
"Good idea," he says with a grimace. Gulping a huge breath, he picks her up and heads to the bathroom with outstretched arms as Leila giggles at me over his shoulder.
Twentyminuteslater,there'swater and baby shampoo all over the floor, Amos,andme, but Leila's freshly bathed and dressed for bed. Head tucked against her daddy's shoulder, her mouth opens wide in a sleepy yawn as her tiny fingers gently pat his back.
Just like he's patting hers.
I swear, seeing this man of mine with a baby in his arms makes me want to throw him down and ride him until neither of us can move anymore.
Later.Time to put this little girl to bed first.
One thing I adore about our nighttime routine is reading to her. Young as she is, she absolutely loves books. And though some people may say she's too young to have a favorite, I'd have to disagree. The minute her eyes snap ontoAre You My Mother, she'll squeal with glee and clap her hands in excitement until I read the title and open the book.
And tonight is no different. Corina's remarked in amazement before how it was Amos's favorite book, too, and that Leila's enough like him to be his blood daughter. To me, that was just the perfect sign that little Leilani was meant for us.
Joining them on the oversized glider a thoughtful Connor made just for us, my heart melts when my baby reaches for me from her daddy's lap. "Will you hold the book, babe? Looks like she's gonna be a Momma's girl tonight."
He drops a short kiss on both of our heads and holds us as he opens the book. "Anything for my girls."
His girls.What a picture we make, the both of us ensconced in the circle of his strong arms. Leila nestles against me, resting her curly head on my swollen breasts (yes, with the help of Amos, the pump, and hormonal supplements, these boobies make milk that he guzzles every chance he gets) and sucking her two middle fingers as I begin to read. Near the end of the book, her eyes begin to droop but she's still focused on the colorful illustrations.
"Do you know who I am?" I read aloud. Unbidden emotion hits me and I choke on it. Sometimes my new reality slams into me so hard and I can't believe I really have a husband and a baby.
Everything I've ever wanted, and they're both with me right now.
A happy tear escapes me with a sniffle, catching Leilani's attention. Looking up, she pulls her wet fingers from her mouth to pat me softly on the face. Wry amusement mixes with my happiness.It's the thought that counts.
