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They're still all assholes though.
"Mean baby," Gemma giggles and then bangs her hands on the table. "Charms, daddy!"
"I'm working on it, baby girl," I promise, already striding toward the fridge to get the milk. I make a pitstop on the way back to the table and grab a banana, bowls, and spoons. Charlotte will kick my ass if I don't feed them something healthy to go with their cereal. She gets cranky when I let them eat junk. I'll never tell her, but her attitude is half the reason I do it.
Nothing turns me on like my wife when she's being all bossy and cute. Working her up just to calm her back down is one of my favorite things to do. She's feisty when she's grumpy. And feisty Charlotte is a goddamn revelation. There's nothing sexierin the world than my wife when she's cleaning my clock. It's a little ridiculous how hot she is when she's got her hands on those wide hips and fire in her eyes.
I pour the cereal for the kids and then cut up the banana and set it in front of them. Gemma wrinkles her nose at it, making it clear she isn't amused by this addition to her breakfast. But Damon grins at me and takes a big bite of his. He's a good boy. I don't know if he'll end up playing hockey like me or if he'll be forging his own path, but whatever he chooses, he's going to be a hell of a man.
"Can we go swimbing?" Gemma asks.
"Not today, baby girl. It's going to rain."
She pokes her bottom lip out in a pout.
"Do you want to go see Uncle Wes?"
"And Deacon?"
"And Deacon," I sigh. Wes is an asshole for having a boy.
"Yay!" she cries, her eyes lighting up. "Do I gets to skate, daddy?"
Gemma on skates is as terrifying as Charlotte on skates. My little fairy has tried a million times to learn how to play hockey. She's still terrible at it. Gemma is just as bad at it. When they're on the ice, everyone else clears the deck. They spend more time on their backs than they do on their feet. But they love every minute of it.
"Yeah, baby girl," I say, giving into the inevitable. There's no stopping her anyway. She has every man at the arena wrapped around her finger. Gemma makes the rules, and they gladly obey. If she wants to skate, they let her skate. "You can skate."
"Yay!" she cries.
"Eat your cereal and your banana."
"Yuck."
I chuckle and drop a kiss to her head before turning to pick up all the pots and pans she knocked down. Once they're piledon the counter, I start rinsing them off before hanging them up on their hooks where they belong. She chatters the whole time, rambling just like her mom. I don't think Damon has a clue what the fuck she's talking about—I certainly don't—but my son responds anyway, nodding along and agreeing. Every once in a while, he firmly reminds her to eat her banana.
Naturally, when he says it, she does it without protest. Her brother can do no wrong in her eyes. Before she was born, I worried about how they would get along. I don't worry about it anymore. They love each other fiercely.
"Mommy!"
I spin to see Charlotte wandering into the kitchen. My heart rolls in my chest, my dick twitching in my sweats when I catch sight of her. Her expression is soft and sleepy, her cheeks flushed. She's in my t-shirt, her hair all tangled up around her round face. She's beautiful. God, she's always so fucking beautiful.
"Baby girl!" she cries like she hasn't seen our daughter in days, shuffling to the table to kiss Gemma. Gemma giggles as she kisses all over her face, telling her how much she missed her. She says the same thing every morning. It's cute how much she misses our kids. Even in her sleep, she wants to be right beside them. I love it.
"Morning, mommy," Damon says when she does the same thing to him.
"Da baby being mean, mommy?" Gemma asks.
"Not this morning, sweet girl." Charlotte beams at her, rubbing her hand along her belly. She's four months along and her belly is growing quickly. The sight of it makes my dick rock hard. I turn away from the kids to adjust him in my pants before they start asking questions I know damn well I won't be answering.
"I gets to skate a'day, mommy," Gemma informs my wife.
"You get to skate today, huh?" Charlotte says, shooting an amused look in my direction. Humor dances in her baby blues, and I know she's laughing at me. She always does when I let our girl have whatever she wants. I can't help it though. She looks just like my wife. It's not my fault I'm entirely incapable of telling her no.
I crook a finger at Charlotte, demanding she come to me.
She prowls across the kitchen toward me, her hips swaying. The hem of my shirt shifts with each step, flashing her inner thighs at me. As soon as she's within reach, I drag her into my arms. Her tits press against my chest, her soft body yielding to mine.
"Morning, handsome," she whispers, tilting her face back to look up at me.
