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Kerrigan comes running over, followed by Jax, and I look at my husband. “Tell me again how it’s just two-year-olds.”
Afew hours later, the kids are in bed, and the group of us are sitting around a big teak table on our back deck that overlooks the bay. Our small-ish circle has grown. What used to be the five of us girls and Callen and Maddox now includes Easton and Griffen, and Cross, Kerrigan and Jax. Not to mention Bellamy and Caitlin, as well as Ares and at least Leo, if not Hendrix too.
Once Nixon graduated, he moved back home, so he’s been around more since May. And last week, he was drafted to the Revolution. They needed a new center since Jace Kingston retired.
The Revolution won the Stanley Cup this year, and Cross was the top scorer on the team again. It’s been an incredible ride, and I didn’t miss a single game.
“Earth to blondie.” Ares snaps his fingers in front of my face. “You suck at poker. You know that, right?”
“Kiss my ass, God of War. I believe that’s a royal flush.” I lay down my cards and watch the confidence fall from his cocky face. “You owe me two nights of babysitting, starting tonight.” I laugh and push up from the chair and jump for Cross to catch me.
“Hey... I never said tonight,” Ares calls out as Cross walks us around the other side of the deck, then down the steps and out onto the sand.
“You think the kids will still be alive when we get back?” Cross asks with such a devious grin.
“Your brother is more than capable of keeping the kids alive. But Lindy and Easton are staying with us, so really, she’s the onebabysitting, and I only need a few minutes alone with you, big man.”
“Give me ten minutes, and I’ll get you off twice.”
“We’re on the beach at eleven o’clock at night, Cross. We may not have ten minutes. Make them count.”
I giggle when he tosses me over his shoulder. My long sundress catches in the breeze and covers his face, so he can’t see as he stumbles over to the lifeguard stand—that gets moved back by the dunes every day at six p.m.—and lays me back against the ladder.
“How fast do we need it, Cinderella?”
His hand is under my dress and inside my panties before the question even leaves his mouth.
“Hmm... Keep doing that, and I’ll only need three minutes. Four, tops.”
And it’s true. Not only is Cross Wilder father of the year, an incredible husband, and the captain of the Philadelphia Revolution, my favorite title for him happens to be sex god. Because what this man does to me is absolutely otherworldly.
My hands move to the belt of his cargo shorts at the same time he boosts me up and pulls my dress up with me. “Three minutes left, baby,” he murmurs against my ear as he shoves my panties aside and impales me on his hard cock.
I wrap my arms and legs around him and let him take all the weight as he fucks me like I weigh absolutely nothing.
“Oh God, Cross,” I cry out, then laugh when we hear a voice not far away.
“Come fast, Cinderella, before we get caught. Come now, and I’ll fuck that ass in the dead of night when everyone else in our house is fast asleep. Come now, and I’ll stuff that pussy full of my fingers and that ass full of my cock, and make you forget anyone besides the two of us even exists.”
And when I scream and come, Cross fills me up on a long groan before he drops my feet to the ground and shoves his dick back in his shorts. He takes my hand in his, and runs with me, laughing all the way back to our house.
“Back so soon, you two love birds?” Brynlee asks.
“I can just see the headline now.” Lindy dramatically runs her hand through the air above her head like she’s reading a marquee. “Kroydon Hills power couple, Cross and Everly Wilder, caught with sand in their ass after a quick fuckfest on the Longport beach.”
Maddox chokes on his beer until Caitlin pounds a fist on his back. “Breathe, big brother. It’s not like we all haven’t had sex on that beach.”
“What the actual fuck, Cait?”
Nixon shakes his head. “Welcome to my hell.”
“Fuck off, little brother.” I laugh. “Maybe if you got your own sex life, you wouldn’t be so concerned with mine.”
“It’s a good sex life.” Cross hands me a glass of wine.
“It’s a great sex life,” I agree.
“Oh my God. Stop. I’m begging you, evil twin. Please. You two are worse than Mom and Dad,” Hendrix pleads, and I’ve got to say, I now consider being compared to my parents a compliment. I hope I’m still banging Cross’s brains out in an outdoor shower when we’re forty-five the way they got caught earlier today.
