Page 115 of Ashes of Saints

Waddling is the only part of pregnancy that I don’t like. I love my bump and feeling our little girl wriggling inside me. She’s very playful right now.

“Grandma,” Parker says. “What is that on her finger?”

Dick.

I had to say yes or I would’ve gone insane with him asking me day and night. It was the first thing he did when he opened his eyes each morning.

“Marry me.”

“Not yet.”

“Goodnight baby. Oh wait. Will you marry me yet?”

Or opening a door. “After you. Wait. Say yes to marrying me and I’ll let you through.”

The looks we have had in public. The women have giggled, the men laughed or gave him a pitiful look.

Six long months of it.

Until last night when I said yes. I probably could’ve said yes earlier, but I secretly enjoyed feeling so loved and adored.

And desired.

My hormones have been insane and Parker is well aware. While driving across town, a groan escaped as my legs fell open.

Parker glanced up and let out a growl.

“Close your legs or I’m going to slide my fingers inside you and make your pussy scream.”

Threaten me with a good time, why don’t you!

My whimper sent him straight into action. He tugged my panties to the side and his mouth was on my clit before I could count to ten.

“Parker!” I cried; grateful he owned a limousine.

“Soaking. Fucking hell.”

I leaned back and let my man pleasure me as I cupped my breasts.

Pregnant sex was the best sex in the world.

“You proposed?” His grandmother cries, reminding me we are at her house. “Oh, honey.” She wraps me in her arms, then tugs Parker in with us. “I’m so happy.”

“Thank you.” I smile and glance over at his mother.

She walks over and squeezes my hand. “Welcome to the family, Aurora.”

“Thank you.”

Things had been a little difficult with Mrs. Stone. Mostly because Parker was still working things out with her. The media had gone public with the news after we turned over the tapes. The pedophile ring was a large one once they dug even further.

While our identities were protected, Parker had told his mother who was involved—his father, her husband—so it was impossible for her to ignore the truth.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t a better mother. There are no excuses. He was my husband, and I didn’t want to believe it. I didn’t know what to do.”

“You should’ve kicked him out,” Parker yelled while I sat beside him. His hand dropped to my leg. “Fuck. Don’t stress out my pregnant wife.”

“Um, we aren’t married.” I’d muttered.

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