He grins at me, and lines appear around his eyes and mouth that remind me of his father andTíoEnrique. It didn’t take me long to call the men and womentíoandtía. I call Luis and MargheritaPapáandMamá. I thought it might feel odd since I reconciled with my mother in time for the wedding, but I love how close Margherita and I are. She’s been a rock for me over the past seven years.
When I didn’t get pregnant the first year we were married, we got worried. Margherita and Madeline took me out to lunch since they’re both midwives. They discussed infertility with me, and Margherita got me an appointment with an OBGYN she works with. She taught me how to give myself shots during the second year of our marriage when we tried IVF.
She reassured me it wasn’t anything I did wrong when I never got pregnant. My “unhospitable womb” and “advanced maternal age” were a combination that’s left us childless. Eithercould’ve been the reason, but together, it’s meant Pablo and I have adjusted our plans.
Pablo insisted he get tested before we did anything invasive on me. He insisted he might be shooting blanks. I know he meant well, but when it was obvious my body was the culprit, it didn’t make it any easier knowing he could have kids if he wanted. We’ve held each other through our tears and grief about the life we thought we’d have but won’t.
We’re as much on the other side of it as I guess we’ll get. It’s not exactly a scabbed over wound that won’t heal. It’s more like a scar that itches sometimes and is numb others. We look on the bright side, which is that I can travel with Pablo whenever I want. I worked in a lab the first three years, but now I represent the three biotech companies we own. I go into an office a couple times a week, and I travel on my own to visit the labs since they’re spread across three different countries. Since I work from home more often than not, I can go with Pablo on non-Cartel trips.
We also spoil our nephews rotten. They adore us, and our cousins are forever telling us their children like us better than them. Of course they do. We have all the fun with them, and their parents make them brush their teeth, take their vitamins, and go to bed at a reasonable time.
“Seriously, Daddy. We’re going to be late, and everyone will guess why.”
“Yeah. It’s the same reason we’re all late to various events. We’re not any different than anyone else, my parents included.”
He curls his nose in disgust. We had Sunday dinner atTíoMatáis andTíaCatalina’s last week.MamáandPapáarrived just before us.Mamá’sskirt was suspiciously off center when she got out of the town car. I thought Pablo was going to be ill. I just giggled and hid my face against his arm.TíaCatalina came out of the kitchen straightening her hair.TíoMatáiscalled out his greeting from in there and didn’t join us for five minutes. Apparently, thebadeja paisaneeded his attention. It’s a dish piled high with various meats, plantains, rice, red beans, avocado, and fried eggs.
“Josue will be upset if we’re late.”
Javier and Madeline named their son after theabueloall the cousins share. From what the older generation says, the little boy is the spitting image of the man when he was a child. I’ve seen the family photos, and the resemblance is uncanny.
“Then you better not make this last longer than it has to,chica.”
That’s like saying it better not snow in the Arctic.
He lowers me to my feet as he sits on the end of the bed. He unzips my skirt and pushes it to the floor. He yanks down my panties and holds them up.
“Where were you hiding these? Do you have some secret stash?”
I shake my head, and he narrows his eyes.
“After all these years, have you been wearing panties when I’m away?”
“No. I have a couple pairs as just in case. Windy days, doctor’s appointments, things like that.”
He considers what I say and nods. “Doctor’s appointments only.”
“Yes, Daddy.”
He pulls out his knife and flicks it open. He shreds the damn things to make his point. There’re scraps of satin on the floor when he’s done. He puts his blade away and pats his lap. I stretch over it, and he twirls the jeweled plug before pulling and pushing three times. I breathe through it when I want to squirm. His hand lands across my ass, and I yelp. He gives me nine more spanks before his fingers plunge into my pussy. When hewithdraws them, I turn my head to look up at him. He licks his fingers and grins at me.
“Better than birthday cake.”
“If you say so.”
I know I sound petulant, but my ass stings, and my pussy burns. I want to get off more than I want birthday cake—which is saying something because I discovered American buttercream frosting is one of my favorite things.
He slips his fingers into me again, and I do my best not to beg.
I fail miserably.
“Por favor, Papí.Por favor…Por favor…Papí!”
“On the way home, little one.”
He helps me stand and hands me my skirt. My cunt feels painfully empty, and he knows it. I step forward once my skirt is in place and press my body against his. My hand slips between us and cups his dick.
“However will I make amends, Daddy?”
