Page 134 of Brazen Obsession

Her cunt pulsing around me draws me into my release. We just breathe for a moment, still locked tight with each other.

“I love you, flower.” I kiss her as I pull out.

She sighs and lowers her feet to the tile floor. “I love you, Finn.”

I draw her under the shower and we clean up quickly. As we’re drying off, there’s a tentative knock at the door.

“Mom?” Amelia’s voice is hesitant.

I swoop in for a kiss before wrapping a towel around my waist. Sara has her towel tucked around her as I open the door. Amelia is seven years old. Her red hair is almost orange and curly. Behind the frames of her glasses, her green eyes are shy.

“Yes, Amelia?” Sara tucks Amelia’s errant curls behind her ear.

“Papa says breakfast is almost ready.”

“Well, we can’t keep Papa waiting.” I pick Amelia up and her solemn little face breaks into a grin. “Daddy,” she chastises.

I swing her around once until she’s giggling before setting her back on her feet. “Go tell Papa we just need to get dressed.”

She pushes her glasses up her nose and gives me a little nod before heading downstairs.

We walk into the closet and dress quickly.

“Momma. Daddy. Eddy birthday.”

I turn at Hazel’s voice. She’s three. Like all the girls, she has a head of red hair, but her eyes are brown.

“Yes, Hazel, it’s Eddy’s birthday.” I grin and lift her in my arms. Her little arms wrap around my neck and she plants a wet kiss on my cheek.

“I need five minutes and probably to go see what Eden needs help with.” Sara presses a kiss to Hazel’s puckered lips. “Are you excited about the party?”

Hazel’s eyes light up. “I get a balloon.”

I laugh and press a quick kiss to Sara’s lips. “See you downstairs.”

Hazel and I discuss the type of balloon she wants. Purple and big are her main criteria. Eden is turning thirteen. It seems impossible when just yesterday I was holding her against my shoulder and pacing the floor with her to get her to fall asleep.

The kitchen is beautiful chaos like it is most weekend mornings. I pause in the doorway and Hazel rests her head against my chest as she watches everyone with me.

Dante sits with Nora on his lap while he braids her hair. Lillian, our ten-year-old, stands behind him braiding his. He prefers a bun still, but the older girls love to braid his hair. The younger sisters won’t sit still long enough or deal with the pulling for them to practice. Dante has infinite patience with the girls though.

Amelia stands next to Drew, who’s still holding Violet. Violet peers over his shoulder at me with her light blue eyes. They stand at the island putting together fruit cups for breakfast. Though Violet keeps eating any strawberry she picks up.

Wyatt is at the stove with Chloe on his hip. She’s our youngest. She’s one and supposedly our last until one of us convinces Sara that maybe we should try for a boy. It’s almost a joke at this point. We don’t need a boy to make our family whole, but we all love having a large family. We’re happy with our girls, and they outnumber us already. It’s the family we always wanted.

Chloe grins and bounces on Wyatt’s hip when she sees me. Her little fists dig into Wyatt’s shirt. Her green eyes sparkle. “Daddy. Daddy.”

Hazel wraps her arms around my neck tighter. Even though we haven’t done DNA tests, Hazel is most likely Wyatt’s. She has a possessive streak that’s going to get her into trouble in the future. I rub her back.

“Where Eddy?” Chloe asks.

“Having a meltdown over a shirt,” Lillian scoffs as she ties the end of Dante’s hair with a hair tie. Lillian’s red hair falls over her shoulder in a fancy braid. Any braid the girls find, Dante will make happen. The girls take it as a challenge. “It’s just a shirt.”

Lillian’s new jeans already have rips in the knees and grass stains that are going to be a bitch to get out. Eden, on the other hand, always looks meticulous.

“Lily pad, you know it’s important to your sister.” Dante glances up at her. “We don’t discount what’s important to others.”

“Yes, Poppa.” Lillian sighs and drops into the chair next to Dante as he finishes Nora’s hair. She still doesn’t understand, but maybe in a few years when she’s turning thirteen it will make sense. Or maybe it will never make sense to her. Each of our daughters is their own little person with personalities as wildly different as ours are.