Bite me, p.7
Bite Me,
p.7
His brow furrows. “Sorry. They’re out of season anyway. But I could probably find some if you want. And then we could have some kind of fruity fun in the bedroom.”
That all sounds like a great idea except for one thing.
“I think I’m getting my period because my boobs are really sensitive. So we could do that, as long as you don’t touch the ta-tas.”
Poor Milo. He’s trying very hard to look supportive. “Uh. Sure. I don’t…I don’t need to touch your boobs during sex.”
He sits down on the bed next to me, a strange look on his face. I nudge his leg with my stockinged foot. “Listen, you do pretty well for yourself without having to touch my boobs.”
Suddenly he brightens up. “That’s true. I could always go downstairs for a dessert before dinner.”
I’m flooded with heat when I watch his eyes are roam over my legs. I giggle and jump up, beginning to tug off my leggings.
“What, now?”
I pout. “Unless you’re not in the mood.”
Milo grunts at seeing my partially exposed lower half, and he makes quick work of ridding himself of his pants and tossing the duvet aside. The two of us comically wriggle out of the rest of our clothes, laughing at ourselves and our bumbling as we fall into bed.
He wraps me up in a hug and smashes our mouths together. Some of my college friends remarked that a dude in his mid-forties wouldn’t be able to get it up and keep it up. With Milo, he’s good to go whenever, wherever. Age truly is just a number, as the Williams sisters have demonstrated over and over again.
As our bodies smoosh together, my breast sensitivity flares up. “Ouch. Sorry.”
Milo pulls back. “Don’t be sorry, baby. Just lie back and let me take care of you.”
Are there any sexier ten words in the English language? Doubt it.
My Milo nestles himself between my thighs and props my legs over his shoulders—his favorite position. I sigh languidly and arch my back, chasing the sensation of his mouth. I close my eyes and fall into the dreamy, sexy, and outrageously pleasurable feeling of his sinful mouth on my pussy.
I come quicker than usual; no surprise as I’ve been extra horny these past few days. I’ve been chalking it up to my sexual awakening with Milo. Everything makes me think of either sex or food, now that I’ve learned to let go of my inhibitions.
“There’s my greedy little pussy,” he whispers.
God, I love it when he talks filthy. I mumble something unintelligible and thrust against his face as I squirt.
And that sex columnist said squirting wasn’t real.
“You’re fucking incredible,” he murmurs, taking all of me.
I sigh again, never wanting this to end, and planning how I’ll reciprocate with my mouth. I’ve become reasonably talented at that, too.
“Wait a minute.”
My eyes fly open, and I stare at the chandelier above the bed.
“What’s wrong?”
“You taste different, Cecily.”
“What? Like bad?”
“No! No, not bad. Just different. Have you been…like, messing around with fruit when I’m not around?”
“What?! No!”
He hovers over me to look me in the eyes. “Babe. Your boobs are sore. You have been eating junk food like a horse at a feedbag. You taste different. And the last few days, you’ve been insatiably horny.”
I nod. “Yeah. I’m probably getting my period.”
He holds my gaze for a few seconds. “Maybe.”
He and I share a silence, and he says. “I want you to take a pregnancy test.”
My mouth falls open. “I’m on the pill!”
Milo nods. “I know. But sometimes, this can happen.”
“What do you have, like, super sperm or something?”
He smirks. “I don’t know, Cecily. But you should really take a test.”
I nod and think. “Yeah. Yeah, I should.” My voice is small. Things got suddenly very serious. Biting my lip, I get lost in my head. How could this have happened? I’ve been so careful. I think back over the last few weeks, and then I remember. I sit up straight and grip his shoulders. The throat thing! “Milo. The antibiotics! That was it. Oh my god, I guess I haven’t been so careful after all.”
Milo sits up and pulls me into his lap, then kisses me on the forehead.
“What if I’m pregnant? What will we do?”
He brushes some hair out of my eyes. “If you’re pregnant, then we go from there.”
My body trembles against him. “If I’m pregnant, then we have a talk about our relationship going forward?”
Milo sucks in a breath. “Look at me,” he says.
As much as I’m not excited about eye contact at the moment, I force myself to meet his gaze. “Listen. I’m not going anywhere. Pregnant or not. If you’re pregnant, then we have a baby. Together. Do you want to keep it if you’re pregnant? Don’t think, what does your gut say?”
I sigh. “My gut says I want to have a baby with you,” I blurt out, surprising even myself.
Milo pulls me in close. “Then I’ll be here to get lost in the woods and change diapers with you. You just make sure you navigate. Because that’s what you are. You’re my navigator.”
I can’t believe what I’m hearing. I have a man who loves me and barely bats an eyelash when finding out he might be having a baby in nine months.
“I’m going to have to learn how to change diapers, I guess,” I say, instantly regretting bringing up diapers while we’re both naked in bed together.
“I’ll do the dirty work.”
I make a dismissive noise. “How long is that going to last? I’ll have to develop some skills with babies.”
Milo grips me close, and though I hear the confidence in his voice, I can tell he’s also shaken by what’s happening.
“Always,” he says. “You’ll always be my navigator. I’m lost without you, Cecily.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Milo
Ten months later
Minnie came into the world with an attitude, just like her mother. I wouldn’t have it any other way, as they’re both the lights of my life.
After the initial pregnancy shock wore off, Cecily and I adjusted our plans. I rented a condo in Uptown, knowing that she would want to live near her family for the foreseeable future.
Her sister Cherise stayed with her while I fulfilled my much-delayed book tour obligations. I decided now was a bad time to torpedo my career. Cecily wanted to come with me, but I argued that she should not give up her last semester for me when she was so close to earning her degree. Secondly, there was also no way I would let her travel out of the country while pregnant. She countered that several of her sisters regularly leave the country while pregnant, seeing as her oldest now lives in the U.K. But I had to put my foot down.
I returned a few weeks later to find my Cecily, Cherise, and the entire family had prepped the condo for the baby’s arrival. The third bedroom was transformed into a nursery, and there were safety locks, gates, and bumpers everywhere.
I pressed pause on any future restaurant openings or travel vlogs. While no one was happy about that, being close to Cecily has been the best decision of my life. Being close to her has also taught me to say “fuck you” to anyone who doesn’t like my choices.
Our choices, that is. Turns out I’m pretty adaptable to making decisions with a family in mind.
Even with all the support, time off, and a fully outfitted condo, Minnie turned our lives upside down in the beginning. I thought I was ready, having babysat my nephews and nieces. But nothing prepared me for having my own. I went from a moderately happy bachelor to a blissfully delighted and exhausted dad and partner.
We chose to wait to marry until after the baby was born, despite the eagerness of her parents and all her family. “I want time to plan. And, I want to drink champagne and eat a massive charcuterie at my wedding,” Cecily had said. “And not bubbly grape juice and overcooked meat.”
Who’s going to argue with that?
And if anyone had any misgivings about the wedding’s timing, those thoughts go right out of everyone’s minds as soon as Minnie makes her appearance on the big day.
She coos from her custom, festively decorated pram, all of her cousins quietly fighting to take turns pushing the pram down the aisle. Oh god, I think. So very many cousins.
I scoop Minnie up and hold her in my arms as we wait for Cecily to join us. As soon as Minnie sees the bride, she begins to wail. I worry that Cecily will be upset over this moment being ruined by a baby crying. Instead, Cecily hikes up her wedding gown, kisses her dad on the cheek, and rushes up the aisle to cradle Minnie in her arms.
I wince at all the commotion. “Sorry. I tried,” I say.
As if we don’t have an entire crowd of people at this vineyard watching us, Cecily replies, “Sorry for what? She’s a baby.”
Cecily hugs the comforted Minnie to her chest while we say our vows. In the middle of an awkward exchange of rings, we hear the dreaded noise.
“Okay, folks, let’s get on with it. We might have a situation here,” Cecily says, rocking Minnie back and forth. The judge obliges by rushing through to the “husband and wife” part.
Cherise, always on top of the situation, hands me the diaper bag.
“I got it,” Cecily says.
“Uh, no ma’am, not in your wedding dress, you don’t,” Cherise points out.
The judge dismisses the guests to enjoy the reception. At the same time, a hoard of Williams women surrounds Cecily and me to help clean up the baby. They don’t hear me when I try to insist that I can handle this. I’ve learned the hard way: with a baby, bring extra shirts for me as well as extra onesies for her.
Once the baby is sorted and handed off to the sisters, brothers, nieces, and nephews for a little while, I whisk my bride away in my arms to enjoy our first dance. Exhausted, as always, but happy.
“I’m sorry your wedding ceremony devolved into chaos. I know we tried to time her feeding so that wouldn’t happen,” I say.
Cecily shakes her head. “If everything was perfect, this wouldn’t be my family.”
My heart still races when Cecily looks at me with those eyes and speaks her mind.
I’m not about to argue with her on that point.
Epilogue
Milo
Ten years later
“Phillip, I can’t believe you brought a fifteen-year-old Christmas cake all the way to Mexico.” Diana might be the most ruthless in her teasing of the brothers-in-law.
Phillip sighs. “I’ve told you people. It’s a special tradition, and it’s not literally the same one.”
Leo eyes the damp, fruity block of cake, the centerpiece on a massive dining room table in the open-air kitchen in our mountain getaway.
“Damn, Phillip. That cake’s been around longer than your oldest kid,” Leo jokes.
Diana snorts and hugs her husband around the middle. “Good one, babe.”
Thankfully, this Mexican villa accommodates everyone in the family with an affinity for baking. Phillip has also thoughtfully shown us how to make his famous baguettes, shortbread biscuit, and scones. Cara has produced a mountain of brownies with Mexican chocolate and local vanilla. Leo and Diana have been baking pizzas to order; Cherise has been stuffing us full of cinnamon buns every morning; and the Williams’ grandkids have decorated hoards of cut-out cookies. Cecily bakes nothing, but sneaks away every so often to check on things at the newspaper. Now a part-time investigative reporter, she’s obsessed with uncovering corruption in her hometown. I proudly and frequently boast that to anyone in power, my Cecily is the most hated reporter.
“Put your phone away,” I gently scold. Cecily cuts her eyes at me and smirks, shoving her phone in her pocket. “You weren’t supposed to notice that.” I lean in and plant a firm kiss on her neck, letting her know that for the rest of the trip, she’s mine.
“Baby, the crooks will still be there after Christmas.” Cecily snuggles into me, and I wrap one arm around her. She sighs, “Let’s hope so.”
Chloe pouts as Phillip shoots a stern look to Leo and Diana, who continue to lovingly taunt him. “It’s okay, Daddy. I’ll try some cake.”
Phillip brightens up. “You will?”
Chloe curls her lip and shakes her head no.
Her husband growls, slips one hand under her arm, and whisks his wife from the room. Both Michael and I shudder at the knowledge of what those two are about to do to each other.
Cara sighs. “Look at it this way; at least Chloe didn’t try to cook the turkey this year.”
Michael kisses his wife’s hand. “This is why we leave the protein to the experts,” he says, nodding to me.
“Speaking of,” Cherise says, getting to her feet. “Does anyone want anything? I can make some actual food, not treats.” Bishop, who graciously used his hotel connections to snag us this villa for the week, rubs his wife Cherise’s tummy and says, “No more cooking for you. You need to stay off your feet. That was the doctor’s order if you insist on traveling while pregnant.”
Cherise relaxes into Bishop’s lap and yawns. “Hmm. Yeah, I’m a little sleepy anyway.”
As we watch the sunset over the mountains, Minnie, now nine, clatter around the kitchen with her cousin Freya, now 10. The two of them laugh and roll out dough, conspiring about something. They look and act just like their mothers.
Rufus, Katie, and the rest trickle in to see what everyone is up to, and Freya lets everyone have a turn cutting and rolling dough while Katie, now 16, supervises the little hands.
“What are you miscreants up to?” my father-in-law Bill grumbles. “Whatever it is, I’m not cleaning it up. I’m on vacation.”
Corrina, my mother-in-law, swats him. “You’ll help me clean up after the kids, and you’ll like it.”
“Oh really?”
“Really. I might even let you do that thing…”
Cecily yelps. “Mom! Oh my god, there are about a dozen underage children present!”
Corrina waves dismissively and turns to Bill. “Next year, we do Christmas alone and leave these fuddy-duddies to their own devices.”
Bill, who was almost asleep and is now wide awake and getting rather handsy with his wife, grunts in agreement.
Cecily snuggles into me while we watch the kids do whatever it is they’re doing over by the ovens.
“I wonder if any of them will follow in our footsteps,” she says.
With a grandmother, mothers, and aunts like the Williams women, I’m sure all of them will grow up to be extraordinary, whatever they choose to do.
And I can hardly wait to watch it all unfold.
THE END
Thank you for reading Bite Me! If you enjoyed this short story, please visit my website for links to my Amazon page where you can find lots more titles to read. Follow me there to keep up with my latest releases. Or, just say hello! Turn the page and find out where to track me down on social media and email, or sign up for my mailing list to be the first to know about upcoming projects.
About the Author
Abby Knox lives a dual life. Fantasy Abby would love to live on a farm with goats, bees, chickens, donkeys and alpaca, making her own soap, yarn, honey and cheese. Reality Abby has no desire to do actual farm work. So, the ever-pragmatic Reality Abby keeps Fantasy Abby happy by putting her into adorable little works of romantic fiction with her pretend hobbies. Both Abbies hope you enjoy her sweet, sexy — sometimes a little over the top and weird — storytelling.
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Abby Knox, Bite Me
