“I don’t know, I’m pretty sure your talented tongue is also a good reason.” It earns me a smile. “I love you, Jamie, and if you’re really ready, then so am I.” He kisses me, but instead of letting him play, I pull back in case someone may be close by. “Okay, last question: how drunk are you?”
“You know I’ve been sober since the night we met.”
“Then can we get married in secret? Wait to tell them we’re married until we have a plan to properly announce it? I don’t want to ruin Olivia’s day.”
“Whatever you want.”
Based on his tone, he’s done with hiding, but so am I. “It’s not about what I want. I’m just hoping we can keep it quiet-ish—close friends and family, waiting to announce to the media.”
“There is one person who may already know… Alejandro. He’s the reason I’m here, but I don’t think he’ll say anything.”
“Then he deserves to know, but… you really want to marry me?” I dare to ask, praying to all of the deities that he doesn’t say no.
"Tú eres el amor de mi vida, lo único que falta es que seas mi esposa."
“You know you have to slow down when you’re practically purring in Spanish. Was that a yes or…?”
“Of course it’s a fucking yes,” he laughs, but his admission brings on happy tears for me. “I just said that you’re the love of my life, and the only thing missing is you being my wife. I’m yours,mi abayarde, but it’s about time the world knew you’re mine too.”
Epilogue — Jamie
SIX MONTHS LATER
Ithrust harder, enough to make the headboard clank against the wall. My old apartment is vacant next door, so I don’t have to worry about a neighbor. Even if it was occupied, I don’t really fucking care. We’ve tried everything to help Aubrey go into labor—and home remedies like spicy foods just gave her heartburn. We have sex four or five times a day, but it doesn’t seem to help, neither do long walks. To be fair, most days five isn’t enough to satisfy her on a primal level. I hate that she’s uncomfortable, and is days away from changing her birthing plan to induce labor at the hospital. All because our daughter is happy where she is.
With Aubrey’s back flush to my chest, I tease her nipples, and her delicious moans fill the space. She grips the back of my neck and pulls my lips to her the little space right before her shoulder. I graze my teeth against her soft skin, and as much as she’s trying to coax me into biting or marking her, I don’t want her to have to explain it to the doctors if she does actually go into labor from this. Her nipples peak under my fingertips, and in three deep strokes, her pussy flutters around my cock.
“Fuck,” she groans, and I continue the same pace to prolong her orgasm. “I need another.”
Aubrey never begs, but no matter how much I want to, I don’t let her win—at least not yet. “Don’t rush. I want you to feel it all.” I don’t slow until her breathing evens out. “Good girl. Just like that,” I praise, slipping my hand lower to play with her clit. “All right, baby, now give me one more.” My feisty wife clamps her pussy around my cock, making me groan. “What are you up to, mama?”
“Nothing,” she sings. “Just practicing kegels while you’re inside me. It could help.”
“The only thing it will do is make me come.”
“Oh? Is that so?” She pulses around me in a steady rhythm.
I can’t hold on any longer, coming hard and fast as I fill her. With shallow thrusts, I give her every last drop. “Damn it.” I grunt against her shoulder. “How are we supposed to help you go into labor when you’re draining my dick before you come at least three times?”
As I pull out, she turns to face me. “We need to try something else. It doesn’t matter how much sex we have, this baby isn’t budging.”
“I know,” I sigh, tucking her hair behind her ear. “Want to take a walk?”
“Let me get cleaned up first.” She kisses me softly, smiling against my lips. “Will you get Angel ready?”
“What? I don’t get to clean up?”
“Nah, you get to smell like me all day.” I nip at her bottom lip, and she chuckles, “Okay, fine, you win. You can also get cleaned up.”
We take a quick shower—which is really just an excuse for me to touch her—then I locate my kangaroo-pocket hoodie. Angel hates the cold and will only last ten minutes outside if she’s not snuggled into me. While Aubrey is getting dressed, I make a decaf coffee for her and a regular cup for myself. I check the fridge to do a quick inventory of what we need at the store, and at some point, I’ll need to figure out lunch plans.
We head out, and as Aubrey slides her hand into mine, I kiss the tiny ant tattoo on her ring finger. Ever since we got back from Vegas, I haven’t had to hide how I feel about her. We have plans to get her a ring once Alanis is born, because she doesn’t want a diamond, she wants our daughter’s birthstone. We picked out the setting, but since our daughter, Alanis, is as stubborn as her mother, she’s now going to be a December baby instead of late-November.
Aubrey surprised me with a solid wedding band the day we got back, and no one seemed to notice, except Isaac and Olivia. When we were in Vegas, I got a little red ant tattooed on my ring finger to match hers, but added the letter A beside it for my three girls: Aubrey, Angel, and Alanis.
No matter how badly I wanted to shout it to the world that Aubrey is my wife, we had to wait a while to leak that we’re married. Ned ensured it was quiet and quickly buried in the news cycle. It’s been freeing to not have to sneak around, but more than that, I love how I can proudly hold her hand or kiss her in public and don’t have to worry about it hurting anyone’s career.
We take a longer route to her favorite grocery store to pick up a few things for dinner tonight. As I’m grabbing a cart, she pins me with a glare. “You’re not going in there with Angel.”
