Page 27 of Baby Proposal
EPILOGUE
RHYS
6 years later
I wake to the warmth of my wife’s body curled into my chest and a wash of contentment rises in me. I run a hand down her side, pausing at her thigh. So soft. I love how she has become a bit more curved after six years and two children.
My cock rises as I explore her curves, the rise and fall of her breath slow and relaxed while I map her skin. Again. No day passes without me touching every part of my wife.
Fuck. My wife. My cock is rock-solid now, nestled against her peachy arse.
I kiss her neck and shift down. I wonder if…
“Daddy!”
Uuugfh.
Baby blocked. What an irony.
I look up to find Poppy peeking in through the bedroom door. I adore that our eldest child is capable, brave, and inquisitive like her mother. But sometimes would it hurt for her to stay in bed after six? I think not. Her little brother manages it, although at only two years old, Mark is different. Quieter and gentler than his sister. If anyone is going to take over the Canary Wharf mafia, it will be Poppy.
“Good morning, little one.”
“Can I come in?” She scuffs her bare feet on the threshold.
We had to implement clear rules for the kids about not coming into our bedroom and jumping onto the bed after one particularly close call last year when we forgot to lock the door. Yeah. Baby making is fun, but not with babies watching.
“We’re going to let Mummy sleep,” I tell her in a whisper. “Quiet voices.”
Poppy creases her brow in confusion. “But it’s her birthday.”
Well, Daddy was trying to give her a special birthday present when you arrived in the room. I don’t say that. “She does, but she’d like to sleep a bit longer while we make breakfast and check her presents are ready.”
“Presents?” Poppy is immediately interested. She loves gifts, both giving and receiving.
“Can you put your dressing gown on and I’ll see you downstairs?”
Poppy nods happily and skips away and I look wistfully after her. She was conceived the first time Adi and I made love, surprising her but not me when we found out. I pointed out that we barely got out of bed for the first week of our proper marriage. She let me have her so many times a day in the end I had to insist we took a break because I couldn’t bear to see her wince as she walked. I mean, never walking anywhere again and leaving her tied to the bed did go through my mind as an option, but I managed to do the right thing and enforce rehydration and non-sexual activities for twelve hours before I mauled her back into bed and she rode me gleefully.
I take a moment to look at Adi. Ridiculously gorgeous. Twenty-nine today and she’s just as beautiful as the day I met her. More so, actually.
Adi stirs a little as I nuzzle her jawline. “Mmm. Is it time to get up?”
“Hello birthday girl. Not yet. Stay in bed,” I whisper into her ear. “I’ll make pancakes.”
She makes a contented hum and snuggles deeper into the covers.
I really, really want to stay with my wife, but the idea of a five-year-old alone in the kitchen is strong motivation. I get up, only leaving one more kiss on her forehead before throwing on clothes and heading to Mark’s room. Our two-year-old is contentedly sitting in his crib playing with soft rabbits.
“Hey champ.”
He looks up with a bright smile and waves his rabbit at me. It’s a bit sticky where he’s been mouthing it. Or cuddling? Who knows. I lift him up, do a quick check, and carry him downstairs.
When both kids are safely ensconced in their chairs and drinking milk, I whip up pancake mixture.
“Flip it!” demands Poppy as I begin to cook the first one.
And because my kids are my whole life, I get a second frying pan and flip the first pancake for them, over and over again to their shrieks and giggles, until the next pancake is cooked. To think I used to spend my time working, murdering my enemies, and working some more.
