He’d had to carry me to the bathroom and help me use it.

“Baby…” Coke said, nipping my folds. “You’re not participating.”

No, but I sure was now.

That nip had my entire body jolting.

“Get out of your head and feel me.”

Then he pressed his mouth to my clit, and I felt his beard hairs tickle my pussy as he started to devour me.

Coke was thorough. He made sure to taste, nip, suck, and lick every single part of my pussy, leaving not one single hole or protrusion unloved.

By the time he’d brought me to the brink of orgasm over four times, he’d finally taken pity on me and shifted.

His mouth found my thigh, and he rubbed his face clean on it, causing me to groan.

I was soaked.

He always made me that way.

“Coke,” I breathed.

“Yeah?” he teased, pressing himself against me more fully.

“Stop teasing me. The circulation is being cut off to my tits.”

He huffed out a laugh, and I felt him position himself at my entrance. Moments later he was pushing himself inside, and I was thinking that there really was no better place in the world than right there, right then, with my husband.



She brought disorder where there shouldn’t be. She said something where there should be nothing but silence. She moved when she should sit still.

Yet…none of that mattered to me. I loved her with every single breath I took, more and more, until one day I feared that I would implode with it.

She’d given me something I could never repay her for—love and acceptance.

Where my first marriage was all about my wife, this marriage was the partnership it always should have been.

And it was easy loving her.

Easy, fun, and freeing.


I looked down at my youngest daughter, Jackie.

Jackie was a year old, and an Irish twin to her big sister, Mackie.

Both of our girls were born one on top of the other, and the moment that Jackie made it into this world happy and healthy was also the day that I went and made sure that I got a vasectomy that actually worked this time.

I also went to my follow-up appointments six weeks later to make sure there was no baby batter in my special blend.

Spoiler alert, there wasn’t.

Thank God.

I loved my girls, but I was getting older.

I didn’t want to be in my eighties and not get to experience my daughters growing up.

Three daughters.

It was still a shocker that I had three.

Nineteen, two, and one.

I was one crazy son of a bitch.

I picked Jackie up and nuzzled her face.

“Yes, baby?”


I grinned and reached for her cup, expertly pouring a drink into the cup I was holding while also hanging onto her.

Twisting the lid on, I handed it to her.

Once she got her cup, she drained it and then handed it back to me.


I shook my head, laughter creeping out of my throat.

“No, she’s not your kid at all,” Cora drawled as she made her way into the kitchen.

I snorted and handed Jackie over.

She immediately wanted down, and Cora obliged with a shake of her head.

Jackie, being the little terror that she was, walked over to where Mackie was on the barstool and started to shake it, causing Mackie to clutch at the countertop.

“My!” Jackie crowed.

Mackie hissed at her little sister. “My p-pers!”

I looked over at the papers.

Mackie was my little mini-me, through and through.

She had my need for order, as well as my need for cleanliness, where Frankie and Jackie did not.

Where Jackie’s room was a pigsty just like Frankie’s had always been, Mackie’s was the complete opposite. From birth, Mackie was different.

Furiously, Mackie gathered her papers and ran from the room. All the while Jackie ran behind her, happy at having interrupted her sister.

Cora turned to me and offered me her lips.

I didn’t hesitate in taking them.

“They’re yours,” I teased.

She snorted. “Those kids are yours, and you know it.”

She was right.

All three of my girls looked just like me. They had my nose, eyes, and hair color. My skin tone and my attitude.

The only thing that our youngest two had belonging to Cora was her smile.

Just as I was about to pull her into my arms, both girls shrieked.

I turned to see Gabe and Ember arriving on Gabe’s motorcycle.

“Papa! Papa! Papa!” Jackie slammed her tiny little fists on the window.

Mackie, abandoning her drawings, made a mad dash for the door and was out it before either Cora or I could caution her.

Neither one of us bothered to go after her.

By the time we arrived at the door, Gabe already had Mackie in his arms.

Now, if there was anyone in this world who may have adored my kids more than me, it was Gabe.

Mackie, Jackie, and even Frankie had Gabe wrapped around their little fingers.

Ember bent down and picked Jackie up, who’d forgone Gabe since he had Mackie, and smothered her with kisses.

Do Not Sell My Personal Information