“Your nipples are sensitive, aren’t they?” he rumbled in my ear, subtly moving his body and rubbing against them even more.
“Yeah. I was just telling my slut bunny to sit the hell down.”
If him shifting before felt good against them, it was nothing compared to how it felt when he burst out laughing and his chest moved more quickly. “Your slut bunny?”
Nodding against his shoulder, I explained the truth about those dirty rabbits. “She lives in my vagina and enjoys being fed carrots.”
Throwing his head back, Ellis started laughing harder than I’d ever seen him do it before. It was a beautiful sight, and all the thoughts of cushion savagery went flying out of my head as I watched. And then he threw his arms in the air and yelled at the top of his lungs, “She’s having my baby!”
Let me tell you, when your man does something that shows the depth of his emotions, you sit up and take note. But when your man throws his arms in the air and yells news so loudly that he can’t talk for three days… he’ll always have your love. I might have gotten three days of quiet from him, but not once did that smile fall off his face. Not even when he was sleeping.________________
Four days later…He could go back to being mute now. Ever since he’d gotten his voice back – albeit a rough, sexy and croaky version of it – yesterday, he’d been driving me insane. I wasn’t to put the dishes away, bending over to pick a sock up off the floor was bad for the baby, I wasn’t to lift anything heavy, the shower was too hot, I needed more ‘roughage’ and protein in my diet, and kale is the answer to everything (all lies, it was the answer to projectile vomiting, and if he tried to secretly hide it in my dinner again, he’d find the bag up his ass). And then he came out with even more bullshit fuckery – we were getting married this month, because there was no way his kids were going another day without his last name. The adoption papers were being finalized, he’d just had us complete the paperwork for our marriage license, and now he was talking about the wedding taking place in a week.
One. Fucking. Week.
“We can speed it up by just going to Vegas, I guess,” he mused, pacing back and forth in front of me. “That way we don’t need to wait for the license, we just get Elvis or someone to do it.”
Not looking up from my phone, I snapped, “No.”
“I don’t think you’re thinking this through, Jose. Our babies don’t have my last name, and what if Liv meets another kid who points it out to her?”
That made me look up. “She’s one, Ellis. Most of the kids she knows are around the same age, so they’re hardly going to realize the difference in names, let alone be able to verbalize it to her.”
Blowing out a breath, he ran his hand through his hair in frustration, not once stopping his walking around the room. “You don’t know that, kids are sneaky and smart. Don’t get me started on how much of an asshole Rose was when she was little.”
“I doubt she went around solving crimes or pointing out inconsistencies to other one year old’s, honey,” I muttered, dropping my cell and leaning back against the pile of pillows behind me. These were a new addition to the bed, bought by the big titty baby himself so that I didn’t hurt my back or roll onto the baby while I was sleeping. Sleeping? I’d be lucky to get any for the rest of this pregnancy, seeing as how I’d slept pretty much upright last night thanks to the damn things. “What about if this baby,” I pointed at my stomach, “meets another baby in utero at, say, an appointment, and that baby points it out to this one? It might be born scarred for life.”
You know how they say sarcasm is the lowest form of wit, but the highest form of humor? Yeah, they could fucking bite me. Saying that one thing sarcastically resulted in a wedding that was planned and executed within three weeks, and the only reason it took three weeks was because of a holdup with our marriage license thanks to the forms going missing. So be careful how you wield that sarcasm sword, because it would undoubtedly come back to bite you in the ass.
Incidentally, they also say that sarcasm and orgasms are two things ending with ‘asm’ that most people don’t get. The ones who did, though, were the ones walking around with huge smiles on their faces every day. As someone who did just that, I’ll grudgingly admit that not digging my heels in over the wedding at the Townsend ranch worked out well for me. Orgasms, happiness, and a husband who was responsible for all the first, and a lot of the latter. So, I’d totally be exercising my sarcastic slut bunny again in the future.