Page 6 of End Goal
Indie smiles and exhales heavily as she wraps her hands around my neck. Her brown eyes look thoughtfully up at me. “Very well then. But now that I’m a Harris, I intend to behave like one, which means I’ll start inserting myself into everyone’s business.”
My chest vibrates with a silent laugh. “Is that how you see my family?”
She nods stoically. “Pretty much. Overbearing and over-caring. But I can survive it, especially since your brother married my best friend. Belle and I have great plans for you Harris twins.”
“Oh?” I ask, arching a brow and squeezing her to me. Impatience rolls through my body as I realise we’re both wearing way too many clothes in this honeymoon cottage. “Are you going to let me and Tanner in on our future plans that you have so clearly mapped out already?”
She shrugs and begins fiddling with the buttons on my shirt. “Well, obviously we’re going go on holidays together.”
“Obviously,” I state, biting my lip and watching her focus intently on the task of removing my shirt.
“And eventually we’ll want to move out of London to get away from the noise and the traffic. Something a bit quieter, possibly near your dad.”
“Is that right?” I ask, my hands roaming up and down her ribcage as she yanks the tails of my shirt out from under my kilt.
“Of course we’ll be neighbours with Belle and Tanner because we don’t just want Harris Sunday dinners, but Friday Tequila Sunrise nights and Saturday morning English breakfasts while our kids play in the garden as well.”
“Kids?” I ask with a laugh, completely captivated by this rant Indie is on and never wanting it to stop.
Indie frowns petulantly and pushes the shirt off my shoulders. She licks her lips and runs her hands down my bare chest and abs. I groan from the feeling of my cock growing hard beneath the tartan pleats.
“Of course,” Indie replies, looking up at me and combing her fingers through my damp hair. “Our children will be best friends with Tanner and Belle’s kids, and we’ll want to live near the rest of your family so the cousins can remain close.”
“Naturally,” I add, biting my lip and reaching around to her back. My fingers find the long row of buttons down her spine, and I quickly begin sliding them through the loops. I lean in and murmur into her ear, “And how many children do you see for us, Mrs. Harris?”
“Oh, at least four.”
I can hear her smiling. “Really? Just four?”
“Mmhmm. I’ll still want to work, but I won’t be travelling with a football team once I start having children. I imagine I’ll open up my own athletic training centre that specialises in injury prevention. It will be revolutionary, of course.”
“Of course,” I murmur as her dress slides down her breasts. I push it over her hips, and it pools on the floor around her feet. She steps out of it, kicking the fabric off to the side so she stands before me in nothing but her white heels, her white strapless bra, and white knickers. My virgin bride.
Not quite, but she is one hundred percent mine, and there’s a carnal part of me that loves the fact that she’s never felt another man inside of her. I was her first. My seed is the only seed to have entered her body, and the thought of making babies with her has me hard as stone beneath my kilt.
My fingers reach back for her bra clasp. “What are your plans for me?” I whisper, kissing her earlobe and nuzzling into her scent.
She sucks in a sharp breath when her bra tumbles to the floor. I pull back to gaze down at her pale pink nipples, hard and pointing straight at me. I lean down and drop soft kisses on the mounds of her breasts.
“You’ll retire eventually.” She lets out a soft cry when I pull her tiny bud into my mouth. “And have loads of investments, so you won’t have to work if you don’t want to.”
“That’s good to hear,” I reply, smiling as I suckle her other nipple and pull it hard and long between my lips.
“Oh God, but you’ll bore easily,” she moans. “You’ll most likely start coaching our kids’ football teams or helping out at Bethnal Green.”
“That’s very logical.” I reach out to grab her hand and place it on my groin to show her the effect her words have on me. She bites her lip and wraps her fingers around me, letting out a tiny sigh of appreciation.
“You never asked me what I was wearing under my kilt, Specs,” I murmur in a deep, wicked tone.
“I can already guess,” she husks, swallowing and slowly slipping her hand up under the fabric. She grabs my bare shaft and smiles with glee. “Just as I suspected. Cock and balls.”
I laugh at her cheekiness, and it takes everything I have not to rip her knickers off and fuck her senseless. This is our wedding night. It needs to be about more than uncontrolled lust.
I clear my throat and concentrate on the words I want to say next. “Are there any other plans you want to inform me about?” I ask as I slide my hand down the front of her knickers and gently tease the crease of her pussy.
She whimpers when I find her clit and apply delectable pressure. Her whimper changes to a full-on moan when I plunge a finger deep into her tight, wet centre. “We can alternate hosting Christmas and other holidays,” she cries.
I grin and continue plunging into her. “You know, for a bird who likes her space, you sure have concocted quite a plan to keep everyone close.”
