Chapter 49
COLE
“I have something to show you,” I announce as Yasmine walks through the main entrance of our new home, having had lunch with Arianna, Paige, and Sapphire.
At seven months pregnant, Yasmine thinks she’s the size of a house, and she keeps asking if she’s expecting triplets, which she’s not because the ultrasound confirmed it but that’s what she says she feels like.
Everything looks great on Yasmine, not that she thinks that, because she doesn’t think she’s glowing or looks gorgeous when in fact I can’t keep my hands to myself, and I love that she’s full of my baby and growing one of the best things to have ever happened to me. Yasmine being the first.
“My panties don’t even fit anymore,” she grumbles as she rounds the corner into the main living area pulling her panties out of her butt crack.
“I’ve never wanted you more,” I tease, knowing how grumpy pregnancy makes her.
“Wait until my boobs start leaking everywhere with milk, and my nipples are cracked and sore, and my vagina might never be the same again, you know.” She places her hand on her forehead as if she’s having a meltdown.
“Will you still love me? I mean, look at me.” She motions to her whole self with her hands.
“I am, and you look fucking gorgeous, baby.” I know nothing I say will help her to feel any better. Hell, she can’t even keep food down half the time, and she feels wretched all of the time, but I love her and think she looks sexy as fuck.
“I miss being able to see my feet.” She slips her boots off, then rubs her stomach.
The clingy, body-hugging charcoal dress she’s wearing today emphasizes all her curves perfectly, making me want to tear it off her, fill her with my cock and make her come undone.
Because the way she comes in endless waves during pregnancy does something almost feral and caveman-like that makes me want to keep her full of my seed and have a football team-sized family.
Not now, Cole.
Although… her pregnancy hormones are through the roof and she can’t get enough of me, even when she hates me for putting a baby in her; her words, not mine. Mmmm… maybe later.
Yasmine eyes me suspiciously. “I’m not gorgeous.”
I wave her off then offer her my hand, urging her to take it. “Come with me.”
“What have you done now? Did you break one of the windows again? If you did, I might blow a gasket, especially if it’s the one we’ve already had replaced.”
I may have been a bit overzealous the other night when playing basketball.
Converting the church hall in the back of the church into a basketball court was a great idea in theory, but I may have to hire a specialist to help preserve the tall glass windows; otherwise, it’s going to cost me a fortune to keep replacing the panes.
Luckily, the ones in the hall aren’t stained glass or I really would be on Yasmine’s bad side.
“All the windows are fine,” I reassure her, gently pulling her along behind me as I head up the stairs toward our bedroom that’s suspended over the living room.
Eventually, we’ll need to find a way to block off our bedroom. When the baby arrives and as they grow older, our bedroom isn’t just impractical; it’s also risky, and the last thing I want is for our kid to catch us in the middle of sex.
When I first designed this space, I was single. Now, I have a wonderful fiancée who said yes when I proposed, and we’re expecting a baby. Life feels perfect.
I also had to admit that the polished concrete floors weren’t safe with a baby. Interestingly, since installing the black carpets, the large room now echoes much less than it would have without them, so in a way, it’s been a blessing in disguise.
Another addition to the house is a bigger office space, which we remodeled part of the underground garage to accommodate.
I may have had to sell one of my cars to make it work so now I only have ten cars instead of the eleven I previously had.
Although I still think there is space for a motorcycle.
I already have my eyes on the one I want, and that Indian Chief Vintage has been calling my name for months.
If it’s still available I’m buying it and I’ll drop that into conversation one night over dinner.
Or maybe I won’t and let Yasmine discover it for herself. We’ll see.
Since our dinner with Douglas Zenon, he has not only invested in Yasmine’s app, but also offered her a position within his firm.
She is now one of his company’s advisors and serves as the Software Development Director, leading the entire development team.
My girl isn’t just clever, she’s a bad ass boss, and I love how much she’s loving her new role.
“If you’ve bought another stupid arcade game for the games room, I will send it right back,” Yasmine snaps, struggling with the stairs, holding on to the rail for support.
“The games room is downstairs,” I point out as we reach the top of the stairs leading to our bedroom.
She really is a grumpy pregnant woman. Everything I do is wrong, unless I’m giving her orgasms—then she’s happy. Maybe I should just bend her over the stairway now to placate her.
Not now, but definitely later.
“Oh yeah.” She looks around then pouts. “I’m sorry for being a moody mama.”
“I love you being a moody mama.” I love everything fucking little thing about her.
“Look.” I point to my surprise, and I watch as Yasmine’s mouth drops open and she walks with determination toward the crib I built with my brothers when the girls were out for lunch.
“You put the crib up?” she gasps.
“Yeah. Do you like it?”
“It’s black.”
It’s perfect with wooden spindles painted in a soft shade of gray. “It matches the rocking chair and the footrest.”
Yasmine runs her hand along the top rail of the crib and looks up at the black lace canopy hanging from the ceiling above the crib and drapes behind it.
“This is beautiful, Cole,” she whispers in awe, brushing her hand over the soft fabric of the footstool in the softest of charcoal gray velvet. “I love the rug.” She looks down at her feet, spreading her toes and digging them into the black-and-white circular rug beneath the crib.
“Do you like the light?” To the left of the canopy, there’s a nightlight in the shape of a half-moon with little stars scattered around it.
“I love everything, Cole.” Her eyes turn watery, and I know she really loves it, although it could just be her hormones as she cried when she couldn’t open the milk carton last night. At this point this could go either way.
“When he, or she, is old enough, then we can move it all into the nursery.” It’s fully decorated and filled to the brim with clothes already, but the crib and the furniture will stay here with our little peanut tucked up next to us for the foreseeable.
“You really do wanna be a daddy, don’t you?” Yasmine walks to me, her eyes filled with emotion.
“I do.” I’m so fucking excited.
When I said I wasn’t ready for a baby before, I was so wrong because the timing of our little one coming along isn’t just right, it’s perfect and I wouldn’t alter a moment of how our little family unfolded. Everything fell into place, at the right time and in the right way.
“You might just get lucky tonight, Mr. Hart.”
My cock thickens in my boxers when she grabs my dick over my jeans and starts rubbing her hand up and down my length, my jaw dropping wide in pleasure.
“Fuck me,” I rasp when her lips brush against mine.
“I was hoping you’d fuck me, actually,” she says breathlessly, already undoing the fly of my jeans.
“Get on the bed,” I command, and she doesn’t have to be told twice as she skips toward our bed, the one we make love in every night and every day.
Why the hell I ever thought having a family with her was something I wanted to do down the line was so wrong of me, because everything happened exactly when it was supposed to.
With my jeans barely at my hips, Yasmine climbs onto the bed on her hands and knees, pulling her dress up over her hips, wiggling her ass at me in invitation.
I’m desperate to be inside of her, my cock leaking at the tip as I pull it free from my boxers. Then I’m there behind her, pulling the smallest sliver of lace to the side and rubbing my cock at her entrance.
“It’s no wonder your panties are up your ass. Could they be any smaller?” I ask, laughing as she pushes herself onto the head of my dick.
She’s refused to buy mommy pants or bigger ones, and still loves wearing the string panties she’s worn since the first night we met.
“Shut up and fuck me,” she whimpers, her hand already between her legs.
With my jeans bunched around my ankles and her dress bunched up around her waist, I rip her panties off, shredding the lace into pieces, and slam myself inside of her soaked entrance.
“You are mine. Forever.” I grit through my teeth, my eyes rolling into the back of my head as her tight pussy walls clench around my length.
“I’ll always be yours, Cole.”
Damn. Fucking Straight.