He’s barely rolled off me and onto his back, when I sit up and run to our bathroom to get cleaned up. I can hear him chuckling from our bed. His laughter gets closer as I pull my night shirt off my body and turn the hot water to the shower on.
“What’s so funny?” I ask, stepping into the shower. The door is barely closed before Jase pulls it back open to join me. “Jase!” I shriek. “Have you forgotten about our kids?” I laugh.
He grabs the soap and begins to wash me down. “Relax, woman,” he chides. “I locked them in their rooms.”
I know he’s only joking, but I still gasp. “That’s not funny! Do you have any idea the mess we’re going to walk out to? I doubt Skyla is awake yet. She’s immune to them.”
Jase laughs harder. “But it was so worth it to have morning sex with my wife.” With his hands holding my cheeks, he kisses me hard before he lets go, so he can squirt shampoo into his hands. “I missed you,” he murmurs.
“I missed you more,” I say, turning around, knowing he’s going to wash my hair.
When he’s done, he trails his hands down the sides of my body and over my ass. Feeling extra horny this morning, I push back against his hands and wiggle my butt slightly.
Jase takes that as his cue to spread my checks and run his finger down my crack. He pushes his finger into my tight hole, and my hands hit the shower wall, my head falling forward.
“That feels so good.” I moan as he adds another finger. With the water raining down on us, he works me up until my body is ready for him. After adding some baby oil to the mix, he slowly pushes his pierced dick, inch by inch, into my ass, until he’s all the way in. While grabbing my breasts and tweaking my nipples, my husband fucks my ass until we’re both coming for a second time this morning.
“I hate it when you’re gone,” he murmurs after he pulls out. “But I love it when you come home all needy for my cock.”
“I’m always needy for your cock.” I laugh.
We spend the next few minutes cleaning up and rinsing off. I quickly shave my legs, while Jase gives me a recap of everything I missed while I was gone.
“I need to do my hair and makeup,” I tell him as we get out of the shower. “The caterers, party planner, and setup crew will be here soon. Can you show them to the back, please, if I’m not out yet?”
“Sure thing, babe.” Jase gives my butt a playful smack and then walks out.
As I get ready, I think about how excited I am for the party today. I visualize where all the tents will go. Where everyone will sit. Where all the kids will play. Three months after Jase and I got married, I found out I was pregnant, and we started looking for a bigger house, one where we can grow our family. Jax decided to stay in the townhouse, moving his girlfriend, Willow, in with him, and my mom is still living in my condo. The second I saw this house with its massive backyard and pool, I knew it was the one. I could see the kids running around and playing on a swing set. I could picture Skyla swimming in the pool during the summer, hanging out with her friends here. I always told myself there was no point of living in the suburbs when living in New York, but the minute I heard my babies’ heartbeats, I knew I wanted a place they would feel at home. A few weeks later, we moved in, and I can’t imagine ever living anywhere else. At the time, Jase thought a six bedroom, seven bath house was excessive, but now he’s grateful for all the rooms.
Once I’ve finished getting ready, I head out of our room and down the hall, praying the place isn’t too much of a disaster. You would never imagine the amount of destruction two two-year-olds can cause in such a short amount of time. When I see all the rooms are empty, I head downstairs, thinking to myself that it’s way too quiet. Where is everyone?
When I get to the kitchen, I see Skyla sitting at the breakfast nook eating homemade waffles while looking at her cell phone. I walk up behind her and give her a kiss on her cheek. “Happy eighteenth Birthday, pretty girl.”
She looks up and sets her phone down, giving me a huge smile. “Thanks, Mom.” That word will never get old coming from her mouth.
“I would’ve made you breakfast.” I point to her food.
“That’s okay. Grandma made them.” She waggles her eyebrows. Turns out my mother is an amazing cook—who knew. And instead of going to nursing school, she ended up going to culinary school, and now runs a very popular restaurant near Hell’s Kitchen. I’ve offered to give her the money to open her own restaurant, but she insists she loves it there.