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“I don’t know what’s redder, this cake or your mother’s face.”
“Oh, she might never forgive me for ruining her marital master plan with a couple of wedlock twins and some full-fat red velvet, but I’m okay with that. I have a new family now,” Becca grinned and raised a forkful of cake toward Olivia, who grinned back at her.
“We’re happy to have you. You changed my life for the better,” I leaned over and kissed her. People cheered. When we pulled apart, Becca was blushing. The rest of the night was a jovial blur. Simon did the worm and pulled a muscle in his neck. Jasmine and Becca tore up the dance floor, and we were happy, no matter what people thought about us.
That night, Rebecca and I settled back into our hotel room. We were leaving for a week in the city the following day.
“Can you unzip me?” Becca asked. I unzipped her dress, and she let it fall to the wayside, revealing her sumptuous curves doused in the moonlight.
“You can’t tempt me like that,” I teased as I felt my hard-on stiffening in my dress pants.
“Well, what are you going to do about it, Mr. Steele?” Becca teased as she sat back on the bed. She wore lacy white panties, which she quickly discarded on the floor. She unhooked her bra and freed her luscious breasts. I tore my suit jacket off, and a button plinked against the lamp. Becca laughed.
“Come here before you shred your suit! We can’t both have a wardrobe malfunction on our wedding day; that has to be bad luck somehow,” Becca said. I crawled over to her, and she unbuttoned my shirt, button by button, slowly trailing her hand down my chest until she reached my boxers.
She hooked her thumbs into the elastic waist and peeled them off my body before she grabbed my cock and began stroking, never breaking eye contact.
I lost myself in her cerulean eyes. I wanted this moment to last forever. I kissed her, and she kissed me back so hard that our teeth crashed together. She slipped her legs around my waist. I rolled over so she was on top and parted her glistening entrance with my fingers, stroking her luscious, damp clit. Her hips hitched forward as I stroked, melting at my touch. Her clit was engorged already; she groaned in pleasure as my fingers worked their way through the folds.
“Sebastian,” she panted. “Please.”
“Please, what?”
“Fuck me,” she groaned.
I pulled apart and grinned. “I finally got you to swear!” I said, feigning a mock victory.
Becca rolled her eyes. “Don’t look so accomplished.” Her hand trailed along my shaft.
“Fuck,” I hissed.
Becca laughed. “See? It’s not that hard.”
In response, I kissed her fiercely. Becca tilted her hips toward me and hitched upward as I entered her, letting the length of myself release. Becca tightened around me and grinned as she rode me, circling her hands around my neck. Our foreheads pressed together; I could feel her soft, blonde hair brushing my neck. I smelled her wedding perfume, something jasmine-scented and summery. I was close. I toyed with her tits and felt her nipples pebble with desire as she thrust. I held her as close as I could. Her bump was getting in the way, but I didn’t care. The headboard shook as we fucked. Becca clawed her hands down my back, and we came in an explosion of sweat and swearing.
“The whole ‘rest of our lives’ thing doesn’t seem so bad when we get to do that,” Becca noted as we disentangled our arms and legs.
I nodded and nuzzled into her neck. “I’m excited. Think of all the places we’ll go!”
“Now you sound like Dr. Seuss,” Becca teased.
“No, I’m serious, though. We have the rest of our lives ahead of us. Isn’t that exciting?”
Epilogue
Becca
One Year Later
Isleptthroughmyalarm on my twenty-third birthday. I woke up at ten and bolted upright, frowning as I realized I had leaked onto my T-shirt for the millionth time.
Sebastian must have fed the babies last night and disabled my alarm so I could get some sleep. I told him all I wanted for my birthday was a full night of sleep, and he took me seriously.
I was about to be irritated until I realized—I’d slept! I’d slept a full doctor-recommended eight hours without so much as a peep from Ralph or Ophelia.
I looked over at the bedside table and realized that Sebastian placed the baby monitor on his side of the bed, that sly, caring bastard. I stretched and yawned, grimacing again at the milk stains seeping through my T-shirt.
I walked into the bathroom and dug out the portable breast pump from beneath the bathroom counter. Then I sat on the edge of my bed and scrolled through my phone as I pumped so I could feel more like a human being and less like a cow. People weren’t lying when they insisted that motherhood was no joke on your body.
