I didn’t even know what that was until Doc showed me a bunch of weird leather underpants with keyholes in them. I don’t want to be put into an underwear cage, but after a year of being screwed day and night, I’ve learned that I like being left all hot and frustrated sometimes. Especially when I’ve been with Eli. He’s so bossy that it feels more natural. And then later, when he or anyone else touches me, my orgasms are twice as strong.
“Is that okay?” I ask Eli.
“Of course,bella.” He tilts his head to one side and studies me long and hard like I’m a famous painting.
“What?” I ask touching my hair. “Is something wrong?”
He shakes his head with a smile.
“Then what?”
“I suppose I’m wondering when I’ll get to finish inside you. When you’ll finally agree to have my children.”
My already overused heart derails like a train off a track. I look away. “I… I don’t know.”
“Are you worried it will ruin your body? Because it won’t. You’re healthy and strong and you can take all the time you need to recover, and, in any case, we will adore you no matter how you look.”
“I know.”
Once I wouldn’t have believed it, I thought the proud men of Velvet House wanted nothing but virgins and supermodels and preferably virgin supermodels. But a few months ago, I accidentally cut my wrist while I was hunting deer with Adriano and the boys were as fascinated and proud of my scar as they were with any fancy dress or lingerie I’d ever worn.
“You’re one of us now, Tits,” Doc said, tracing the purple line with his tattooed fingers. “It’s fucking hot, you all scarred up and dangerous.”
I’ve no doubt that any stretch marks and bruises I gain as a result of having kids would be treated the same way by my four men and in my heart, I can feel the call to have children, sweet, beautiful babies that I can play with and care for. But I also have my reasons for insisting everyone continues to pull out of me. Good reasons.
“January.” Eli squats in front of me, resting on his heels. He looks me right in the eyes. “You don’t have to answer if you’re not ready, but are you scared to have children because your mother passed when she had you?”
I gnaw my lower lip.
“Obstetric care has improved tenfold since your mother died. You would have the very best obstetricians and midwives and—”
I press a finger to his lips. “It’s not that.”
“But your mother passed, and I can’t imagine how traumatizing—”
“She didn’t have to die,” I say softly. “Zia Teresa told me…”
Eli waits expectantly, but my stomach twists. It feels like I’m betraying both my mother and Zia telling the truth.
“Zia Teresa told me Mama’s doctor wanted her to have a c-section,” I finish. “Mama said no, she wanted to have me at home. And when she changed her mind, it was too late. So, she didn’t need to die having me. It was a mistake. A tragedy.”
Eli lowers his gaze. “I’m sorry, sweet girl.”
“Me too.” I picture the mama I know from portraits and my siblings’ memories, her blue-black hair, and round eyes. I wish I could have known her, that we could have had some kind of relationship. But as Zia always says, as I just told Eli, wishes are for fools. I need to focus on the practical.
“Say I was ready for babies,” I say to Eli. “You and the others would still have to figure out how I’m going to get pregnant.”
He shrugs. “All four of us are in agreement,bella.”
“About what?”
“The method by which we will get you pregnant.”
I stare at him. For months my men have been arguing their options, whether Eli as the head of the Velvet House family should have the first child, or if they should use a ballot system or just continue sleeping with me and see what happens. “You’ve actually decided?”
“Yes.”
“And no one died in a knife fight?”
