Page 165 of Petite Fleur

Fuck, I’m so proud of my girl.

Although it took a little longer than she would have liked, she became the top of her field, even with a baby on her hip and another in her belly. She grew to be one of the most respected and now runs a rather impressive branch at the company she works for.

I swear, I fall more and more in love with her every day when I see how excited she gets at her work, how phenomenal she is at it, and everything else she does.

“How was your week? Who is this?” She asks curiously.

I grin and turn my focus to Matthew for a moment, the blubbering fool that I believe pissed his pants.

That’s embarrassing…

It’s a good thing he’s about to die, or I’d tell everyone he’s ever met that he’s not even potty trained at his ripe ass age.

“This is Matthew. He hasn’t told me what happened yet; he’s a bit of a crybaby, but from what I’ve heard from my newest patient, he curb-stomped a 19-year-old girl. She’s needed three reconstructive surgeries so far and will need at least a few more even to look somewhat like her former self and have the ability to eat again. It’s already been over a year, and her jaw is still wired shut.” I explain with a huff.

Can I hit him again?

I understand wanting who you want, but I never could have disfigured my Maeve. That’s not infatuation; that’s cruelty and brutality for the sake of saving your pride.

It’s disgusting.

Matthew chokes on blood, spitting it away from his face as much as he’s able, but I had to secure his head still a few hours ago. For some reason, he kept jerking away when I’d rip his teeth out, so I had to make sure he couldn’t move.

“Please help me! He’s insane; I didn’t do anything wrong.” He sobs.

I know he’s not begging my wife for mercy.

I bark out a laugh and focus my attention on Maeve again, but she’s focused on Matthew. “Well, I do have something to discuss with him if you’re willing to wait.” She says sweetly.

Now what is ma petite fleur up to?

When she turns to look at me again, I quirk an eyebrow at her. “What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?” I ask.

I hold onto her hips, squeezing her in my hands and sighing in relief that I’m feeling this woman again. I’ve missed her so much that it’s ridiculous.

She rests her hands on my shoulders and grins, and she starts to rock her hips against me, and my cock starts to wake up. “I want another baby.” She blurts out.

I pull her into me until our foreheads rest together, and her blueberry smell fills my nose even more. Even jetlagged, this woman is flawless.

I’m addicted, but I’m also not falling for her charm.

“What about the four you already have?” I ask with a chuckle.

She dramatically explains that our oldest, Oliver, will be seven soon and that he’s too independent. He doesn’t want his mom’s help with anything, and she wishes he was back in his phase where he was obsessed with her.

She moves on to Lya, our five-year-old, who doesn’t let us pick out her clothes anymore because she’s a “big girl.”

Really, she just ends up wearing far too many princess dresses at home, and we have to force her to let us help her pick out her clothes for school. Otherwise, it would be Halloween costume princess dresses year round.

Lastly, she goes on to remind me that our twins turned two this year, that Cole and Kace are in their “terrible twos,” and that she misses having a small baby in the house.

She misses having something that she has total control over.

I sigh and pull her into me until I can kiss her lips. Fuck, I’ve missed the taste of her.

“Ma petite fleur, I am too damn old to start over.” I say with a slight huff.

I’m fucking 42, for fuck sake; I can’t start over. It already exhausts me to keep up with the twins!

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