LUKE
Many Years Later
The house is finally quiet. A rare thing around here these days, but I wouldn’t have it any other way. I never could’ve imagined my life would be this way. I know it wouldn’t be without Madeline.
I close the door to our youngest son’s room as softly as I can, holding my breath until I’m sure none of them are stirring. Not that it matters. In the middle of the night, they always switch beds, ending up all together. We don’t fight it.
I love how close they are, and I don’t want them to lose that. I hate the years my brother and I lost, but we’ve made up for it over time.
Three kids under five, and I’ve learned to move like a damn ninja instead of a grizzly bear. Especially when I want to find my wife for some alone time.
I head downstairs but not before I give Miss Poppin a scratch on her furry head. I got her a few days after we’d gotten our own place. She always sleeps in the hallway on the bench, having eyes on all doors. I loosen my tie but stop dead in my tracks when I hit the kitchen.
Madeline’s at the sink, her back to me, wearing one of my old practice jerseys and nothing else.
Her hair’s falling out of the messy bun she put it in this morning, and she’s humming something under her breath while she washes dishes.
The counters are covered with the evidence of her day—crayon drawings, and half-eaten sandwiches.
The woman is always going. I have to slow her down a lot of times, but I know this is what makes her happy, and I love doing whatever makes my wife smile at me.
“Hey,” I say, leaning against the doorframe.
She turns, smiling that smile that still stops my heart. “Hey, yourself. They down?”
“Out cold,” I tell her. I’d worn them out on the wild ice in our back yard. When we got this place, I knew it had to have a pond. Some of Madeline’s favorite memories are of her father going out and finding wild ice and skating together.
“Good.” She dries her hands, but she doesn’t move toward me. She leans back against the counter instead, and the jersey rides up her thighs. “Because I’m done sharing you today, Locke.”
I push off the doorframe, crossing the kitchen in three strides. “Is that so?”
“Mm-hmm.” She tilts her head back as I get close, her eyes darkening. “All day it’s been kids and neighbors and Mommy-and-me class and then your agent calling. I want my husband.”
“You got me. Always.” I cage her in, hands on the counter on either side of her hips.
I don’t give a fuck where I am or what I’m doing.
If my wife needs me, I’m there. God fucking knows she is for everyone else.
I love that I’m her place to fall. “What do you want to do with me? Besides picking this house back up after I put you to bed.”
She answers by grabbing my tie and pulling me down to her mouth.
The kiss is hungry and desperate, the kind we don’t get often enough anymore.
Life’s busy these days: practices and games and three kids and a house that always needs something.
But when we find these moments, when the house is quiet and it’s just us, she burns for me.
But that has always been our way, even in high school.
We’re pros at it now. Dorm rooms, the library, locker rooms, the back of my truck, to mention a few.
Madeline’s hands are already at my belt, fumbling in that impatient way she does when she’s decided she wants something.
I lift her onto the counter, shoving aside the dishes, not caring when something crashes to the floor.
She wraps her legs around my waist, and I can feel how ready she is, how wet, and I groan against her neck.
Fuck, I love her. I never get enough. I see other dumb shits on my team hopping from chick to chick.
There are also the ones that are married but are still messing around or the ones who stay in a relationship when they’re miserable.
I don’t envy any of them. I got lucky my first time out of the gate.
The best shot of my life was the one that got me Madeline.
“Bedroom,” I manage, but I’m already grinding against her, losing my mind.
All these years and she can do that to me.
I’ve burned hot for her since the moment I saw her, when she gave me lip and told me she bit.
It’s one of my favorite memories of us. A story I can’t wait to tell our children when they get older.
“Can’t wait,” she breathes, biting my earlobe. “Need you now, Luke. Right here.”
I don’t need to be told twice. I always need her right now.
I push the jersey up, exposing her breasts. They’re fuller now, softer, changed from nursing three babies but still perfect. I take one hard nipple into my mouth, sucking hard, and she arches into me, her fingers tangling in my hair and giving a slight pull.
“Yes, please,” she whispers, and I love when she begs. “Please, I need you inside me.”
I free myself from my pants and guide myself to her opening.
I push in with one smooth stroke, filling her to the hilt.
She lets out a small gasp, her head falling back against the cabinet, and I have to stop, have to hold still for a second because she feels so fucking good, so tight. I’m not going to last.
“Move,” she demands, her nails digging into my shoulders. “Honey, move,” Madeline orders me again.
I do, setting a pace that’s hard and deep, the way I know she likes it, the way that has her whimpering in the back of her throat.
The kitchen fills with the sound of skin on skin, our breathing.
I watch her face, loving to see her fall apart for me.
There is nothing better in this whole damn world.
“Touch yourself,” I order, my voice rough.
“I want to feel you squeeze me.” Her lips tip up into a half smile, and she slides her hand between us, her fingers finding her clit, and I feel the moment she gets close.
I know her body better than I know my own.
Her pussy begins fluttering around me, her breath hitching.
“That’s it, Buttercup. Come for me,” I manage to grit out, barely holding my own orgasm back. I need her with me, always.
She breaks with a cry that she tries to muffle against my shoulder, her whole body shaking, and I follow her over the edge, burying myself deep and spilling inside her with a groan that sounds like her name.
We stay like that for a long moment, breathing hard, her legs still wrapped around me. I kiss her throat, her jaw, her mouth, and where I can reach.
“I love you,” I whisper against her lips.
“I know.” She smiles, lazy and satisfied. “I love you, too.” Madeline gives a small tug to the back of my hair, her fingers tangled there.
I carry her up to bed, stripping off the rest of our clothes and crawling under the covers. She curls into my side, her hand on my chest, and I stare up at the ceiling, listening to the house settle around us.
I used to think family was bullshit.
I grew up watching my father use my mother, use us, and throw us away when we weren’t useful anymore. Thought that’s what families did. They just take and take until there is nothing left, then blame you for not giving them more.
I was wrong, and I don’t have a problem admitting that. I’m thankful I was.
Madeline taught me that. She gives everything she has to everyone she loves—her time, her energy, her heart—and she does it without keeping score.
She doesn’t give to get anything in return.
She gives because that’s who she is. Because love, to her, isn’t a transaction. It’s just... breathing. Being.
She’s given me three beautiful boys. A home that feels like safety. A life I didn’t think existed. And she still looks at me like I’m the prize. Like I’m the one doing her the favor.
I tighten my arm around her, feeling her breathe against me, and I know down to my bones that I hit the jackpot. Not because of the money or the career or any of that shit.
Because of her. Because she chose me. Because every day, she chooses me.
“Luke?” she mumbles, half asleep.
“Yeah, Buttercup?”
“You’re thinking too loud.”
I smile in the dark, pressing a kiss to her hair. “Just thinking about how lucky I got.”
She makes a soft sound, already drifting off. “Love you, crazy man.”
“Love you more.”
The house is quiet. My family is all tucked away safely. And I’ve got the rest of my life to prove to her that she made the right choice.
I used to think family was bullshit.
Now I know it’s everything.
I hope you enjoyed Madeline and Luke’s story!