“So you spanked me?”
His eyes flash. “Yes.”
He pushes me back on the bed and covers me gently, wraps my legs around his waist and slowly slips inside me.
“I thought you’d want to fuck me hard to go along with that spanking.”
“I don’t want to hurt you,” he replies and kisses me softly.
“You didn’t hurt me. Even the smacks didn’t hurt.”
“You’re pregnant,” he reminds me, as if I’m likely to forget. “And you like spankings, so it really wasn’t much of a punishment.”
“I love you so big,” I whisper against his lips. “I trust you with everything I am, Rhys. I will never, ever doubt you again.”
“It almost killed me, Gabrielle. I’m your constant. I’m what you can depend on. And you’re that for me. You can trust that, I promise you.”
I smile and wrap my arms around this amazing man. “I love you.”
He grins and moves so slowly that I have to bite my lip. “I love you too. Let me show you how much.”
***
Ten Months Later
“Look, Mom! There’s Daddy!” Sam points at Rhys, who has just taken to the pitcher’s mound in Wrigley Field. The crowd is going wild, as they always do when their pitcher enters the game.
God, my husband is fucking sexy in that uniform. And he loves it when I wear his jersey and nothing else to bed.
In fact, I think I’ll do that later tonight.
Ailish, our two-month-old daughter, squirms in the baby carrier I have strapped around me and lets out a little squeak, then settles down again, sleeping peacefully.
This baby girl has red hair, just like her aunt Kate, and I hope it stays that way.
“What is she doing?” Sam asks and peeks in on his sister.
“She’s just getting comfortable.”
He smiles up at me. “She’s cute.”
“You didn’t say that the other day when I suggested you change her dirty diaper,” I remind him with a chuckle, then lean down and kiss his head. “I think you said she was gross.”
“Well, yuck,” he says, sticking his tongue out. “For such a little thing, she sure makes a big mess.”
“True.”
Very true. This little bundle of joy runs on her own timeline. Where Sam was super early being born, Ailish was two weeks late. Rhys almost didn’t arrive in time to see her be born because he had to be in Philly for games that week. But as soon as I called him, letting him know that I was in labor, he jumped on a chartered plane, and walked in the hospital room just in time to hold my hand while I pushed and cursed him for doing this to me, and then he held both me and Ailish while all three of us cried.
He’s an awesome dad to both of our kids. The same day we married, Rhys adopted Sam, and thanks to the iron-clad contract my father made Colby sign before Sam was born, Colby had no case, and is officially out of the picture, again.
Sam couldn’t be more proud to call Rhys his dad.
“Mom! Look!” Sam is jumping and pointing at us on the big screen, and I’m suddenly shy.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” the announcer bellows, “we are excited to introduce you to our Cubs pitcher’s family! This is Gabby, Sam and Ailish O’Shaughnessy!”
Sam and I wave at the board, and when I glance down at Rhys, he blows me a kiss, then waves.
I’m a lucky woman. Actually, no, luck has nothing to do with it. I deserve this life. I deserve this man and these amazing children.
I deserve this happiness.
“Let’s play ball!”
Epilogue
~Declan Boudreaux~
I don’t know why I’m still here. My set ended a half an hour ago, and I passed up a sweet piece of ass to stay.
I wasn’t even interested in the petite brunette that made it very clear that she’d be happy to share her bed with me tonight.
Instead, I can’t take my eyes off the owner of this club, Odyssey, as she bustles about, giving orders to the wait-staff and bartenders, getting the place closed up for the night.
“You’re still here,” Callie says as she approaches the bar. Her platinum blonde hair is up in some sort of complicated-yet-messy-looking knot on her head, showing off her slender neck and shoulders. Her lips are red, and her eyes are ice blue as they look me up and down.
So I pay her the same courtesy, taking in the white halter crop top and black leather pants, showing off a navel piercing and a nice handful of tits, not to mention her sexier than fuck ink.
But it’s those fucking hot red shoes that make my cock twitch. Jesus, what she’d look like, bent over, wearing those shoes and nothing else as I take her from behind, pulling her hair just enough to make her gasp.
“Still here,” I confirm.
“Why?” She cocks a brow and saunters behind the bar, gathering dirty glasses and placing them efficiently in the sink.
“Thought I’d grab a drink before I head home.”
“Okay.” She nods and slaps two shot glasses on the bar, then fills them both with Patron. We clink glasses and throw the shots back. She doesn’t even flinch.
“Nice piercing.” I point to her navel and watch her red lips twitch. “What else do you have pierced?” And can I take you home, strip you bare, and find out for myself?
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” she replies and laughs before throwing back another shot.
“I would, yes.”
She sobers and watches me with those amazingly blue eyes. I love how tall she looks behind this bar. She’s a beautiful woman, and in those spectacular fuck-me heels, she’s only a few inches shy of my six-foot-four.
His eyes flash. “Yes.”
He pushes me back on the bed and covers me gently, wraps my legs around his waist and slowly slips inside me.
“I thought you’d want to fuck me hard to go along with that spanking.”
“I don’t want to hurt you,” he replies and kisses me softly.
“You didn’t hurt me. Even the smacks didn’t hurt.”
“You’re pregnant,” he reminds me, as if I’m likely to forget. “And you like spankings, so it really wasn’t much of a punishment.”
“I love you so big,” I whisper against his lips. “I trust you with everything I am, Rhys. I will never, ever doubt you again.”
“It almost killed me, Gabrielle. I’m your constant. I’m what you can depend on. And you’re that for me. You can trust that, I promise you.”
I smile and wrap my arms around this amazing man. “I love you.”
He grins and moves so slowly that I have to bite my lip. “I love you too. Let me show you how much.”
***
Ten Months Later
“Look, Mom! There’s Daddy!” Sam points at Rhys, who has just taken to the pitcher’s mound in Wrigley Field. The crowd is going wild, as they always do when their pitcher enters the game.
God, my husband is fucking sexy in that uniform. And he loves it when I wear his jersey and nothing else to bed.
In fact, I think I’ll do that later tonight.
Ailish, our two-month-old daughter, squirms in the baby carrier I have strapped around me and lets out a little squeak, then settles down again, sleeping peacefully.
This baby girl has red hair, just like her aunt Kate, and I hope it stays that way.
“What is she doing?” Sam asks and peeks in on his sister.
“She’s just getting comfortable.”
He smiles up at me. “She’s cute.”
“You didn’t say that the other day when I suggested you change her dirty diaper,” I remind him with a chuckle, then lean down and kiss his head. “I think you said she was gross.”
“Well, yuck,” he says, sticking his tongue out. “For such a little thing, she sure makes a big mess.”
“True.”
Very true. This little bundle of joy runs on her own timeline. Where Sam was super early being born, Ailish was two weeks late. Rhys almost didn’t arrive in time to see her be born because he had to be in Philly for games that week. But as soon as I called him, letting him know that I was in labor, he jumped on a chartered plane, and walked in the hospital room just in time to hold my hand while I pushed and cursed him for doing this to me, and then he held both me and Ailish while all three of us cried.
He’s an awesome dad to both of our kids. The same day we married, Rhys adopted Sam, and thanks to the iron-clad contract my father made Colby sign before Sam was born, Colby had no case, and is officially out of the picture, again.
Sam couldn’t be more proud to call Rhys his dad.
“Mom! Look!” Sam is jumping and pointing at us on the big screen, and I’m suddenly shy.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” the announcer bellows, “we are excited to introduce you to our Cubs pitcher’s family! This is Gabby, Sam and Ailish O’Shaughnessy!”
Sam and I wave at the board, and when I glance down at Rhys, he blows me a kiss, then waves.
I’m a lucky woman. Actually, no, luck has nothing to do with it. I deserve this life. I deserve this man and these amazing children.
I deserve this happiness.
“Let’s play ball!”
Epilogue
~Declan Boudreaux~
I don’t know why I’m still here. My set ended a half an hour ago, and I passed up a sweet piece of ass to stay.
I wasn’t even interested in the petite brunette that made it very clear that she’d be happy to share her bed with me tonight.
Instead, I can’t take my eyes off the owner of this club, Odyssey, as she bustles about, giving orders to the wait-staff and bartenders, getting the place closed up for the night.
“You’re still here,” Callie says as she approaches the bar. Her platinum blonde hair is up in some sort of complicated-yet-messy-looking knot on her head, showing off her slender neck and shoulders. Her lips are red, and her eyes are ice blue as they look me up and down.
So I pay her the same courtesy, taking in the white halter crop top and black leather pants, showing off a navel piercing and a nice handful of tits, not to mention her sexier than fuck ink.
But it’s those fucking hot red shoes that make my cock twitch. Jesus, what she’d look like, bent over, wearing those shoes and nothing else as I take her from behind, pulling her hair just enough to make her gasp.
“Still here,” I confirm.
“Why?” She cocks a brow and saunters behind the bar, gathering dirty glasses and placing them efficiently in the sink.
“Thought I’d grab a drink before I head home.”
“Okay.” She nods and slaps two shot glasses on the bar, then fills them both with Patron. We clink glasses and throw the shots back. She doesn’t even flinch.
“Nice piercing.” I point to her navel and watch her red lips twitch. “What else do you have pierced?” And can I take you home, strip you bare, and find out for myself?
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” she replies and laughs before throwing back another shot.
“I would, yes.”
She sobers and watches me with those amazingly blue eyes. I love how tall she looks behind this bar. She’s a beautiful woman, and in those spectacular fuck-me heels, she’s only a few inches shy of my six-foot-four.
