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Having his warm mouth latch harshly onto the sensitive nub once more causes my hips to gravitate upward, anxious to feed him exactly what it is he’s asking for. His tongue drags itself the length of my pussy, lapping up the previous juices while simultaneously spreading around more on its journey downward to the puckered back hole he knows needs just as much as attention as the other. Gentle pressing past the resistance gets me airily whining yet the introduction to his fingers joining the pursuit to stretch me receives much louder moaning.
Thank God everyone is already outside, or I’d be screaming into a fucking pillow.
Roll after roll after roll is executed in tongue form prior to the actions being mimicked by his thumb at the same time his mouth resumes feasting a little higher. In and out the digit slides seducing my lower half into matching the hypnotic rhythm.
Matching the seductive speed.
Brushes of my clit from his nose add the teasing attention required to keep me primed for another big O, yet the second he takes the faintest nip of the throbbing nub, my entire body shakes on an ear-splitting scream. “Tate!”
Soaking wet pulsations capture his tongue on bed breaking pounds of my feet as my frame levitates to the heavens it’s been brought to. In spite of my breathlessness…my shivers…my gentle pushing away for mercy on the area he’s conquered like an old Roman emperor, Tate still remains languorously licking, cleaning away every spec of evidence we were up to anything besides sleeping.
And in my defense, I have been sleeping a lot.
This pregnancy has me more tired than the others.
My first, which was with the twins Liam and Lorcán – who are three headed to four –, was the complete opposite of this. I was full of energy and excitement, even in my third trimester when many pregnant women slow down. Perhaps it was the high of the idea of being a new mom or still a pretty recently wed woman – we went to Vegas and got married by Elvis on Valentine’s Day – that kept me going like the energizer bunny, but regardless, I had way more than was expected. When we found out I was pregnant with Grant – who is right on the heels of his brothers making him two headed to three – I was moodier – most likely from my hormones never fully recovering – but still not too tired. However, being pregnant with baby girl – who doesn’t have a name yet because we can’t agree on one – has been a lot of exhaustion.
And a lot of sleeping when the kids are at pre-school or with their grandparents that love to keep them whenever possible.
Not all sleep sessions end with my husband’s mouth between my legs, but I’ll never complain about the ones that do.
Feathery kisses finally start to trail their way up to my rounded stomach that receives a longer press. “Baby girl O’Clery, should we go outside? See what trouble your brothers have managed to get into with your Grandpa and Great Uncles?”
As if she can not only hear her dad but understand him, she delivers a gentle kick.
He did this with all of our children.
From the minute they were confirmed to be in there, he started talking to them. And playing music for them. And telling their siblings to do the same when the time came.
Tate is an incredible father.
I didn’t expect him to be a terrible one but being young, I didn’t think he really understood what being a parent would entail, especially when we found we were having twins. I’m glad to say I was beyond wrong. Every step of the way, every day, he is there for us. Whether he has to pick up extra slack because I’m on call or has to stay up late after closing down The Dub Pub – the pub him and Geoffrey started – to help get the kids ready for school when he should be winding down for bed, he does it. He’s made sacrifices when necessary – like having to leave his hurling team for a couple years to better care for the twins and Grant – and missing the last family vacation here to Ireland because it wasn’t the most financially feasible decision, yet he made them happily, proving that family will and always does come first. Geoffrey is now finally learning to juggle the family to establishment ratio, asking my husband for advice on the matter every chance he gets.
Work wise, The Dub Pub has finally found the footing needed for him to not be there every day of the week. There are still ups and downs like there are with any new business but for the most part, it’s smooth sailing. He loves it. He gets everything he adores out of it as well gets to pay homage to this country and side of his family. It’s quite a popular spot and has even made a couple of tourist blogs “must stop” spots which he prides himself over.
While he has to work more than he likes, I have had to work less. Rather than entertain the idea of losing me, they gave me a newer, higher position, in which I mainly do everything I used to except I only have to be on call for one weekend a month and am in charge of all employee assessments underneath me. It’s a lot of office work; however, I can do most of it from home now whenever necessary, which makes it easier to deal with sick kids or visiting relatives or play dates with Nat – who finally settled down – and Daniel – who also ended up with the person I least expected him to.
Daniel and Tate aren’t besties like we are, but they definitely have developed their own friendship of the sort over the years.
It became a lot easier when Daniel finally fell for a woman the way I’ve fallen for Tate.
He understood my husband’s irritations in a different light.
There became a positive shift.
Luckily for me, Daniel’s wife and I get along well, as do our kids.
And it probably helps that I got her an easy, well-priced babysitter that goes by the name Gabby. Unfortunately, her and Big T didn’t work out like we suspected they would. She buried her sorrows mainly in booze and baby snuggles. Just recently she started dating a married couple and seems to be optimistic about it. Whether or not it does work out, she promised, she’d still be around to help care for all her nephews whenever we needed her.
“Mrs. O’Clery,” Tate lovingly coos while putting my maternity dress back down in place, “have I told you I loved you today?”
“In all three languages, babe.”
He grows the same cocky grin I’ll probably always love. “Have I told you how beautiful you are?”
“Yes.”
“What about how sexy?” His loving checklist is accompanied by him scooting his frame upward so that his face is closer to mine. “Have I mentioned sexy?”
