Chapter Nine
Nera
A shrill cry pulls me from a deep slumber.
“I’ll get him,” Tristan says before I’ve even fully reached consciousness. He kisses my cheek, throws back the covers and skips out of the room just as his words finally hit my brain stem.
I’ve never seen someone so giddy to be woken up at three in the morning, literally sauntering out of our bed like he was just given jolly good news, but that’s Tristan as a father for you.
Within a month of the twins being born, he’d been able to recognize their cries and know which baby needed us. Their crying sounds identical to me, but he tells me that the cadence of Kiza’s screams is about an eighth of a second faster than Cato’s.
I rolled my eyes at him when he first said it, but, amazingly, he hasn’t gotten it wrong a single time since.
Correct yet again, he walks back in minutes later with a still crying Cato cradled in his arms.
Of the two, he’s definitely the fussier baby. Kiza is quiet, so quiet that sometimes I’ll assume she’s sleeping only to look in her crib or carrier and see that she’s simply examining the world around her like she understands it better than she possibly could at six months.
Tristan sets Cato down next to me then slips back under the covers and snuggles close.
“Hi, little love,” I coo at my son.
He immediately quiets at the sound of my voice, his wide eyes finding mine in the darkness.
Tristan says he has my eyes; that we have the same shape, the same depthless intensity in our gazes. Looking into them now, I agree with one major difference. They’re the same minus the hardened edges. Cato is unblemished and unhurt by the world, his stare is open and full of love and exuberance, and I intend to keep it that way forever.
It’s true what they say about motherhood changing you, because the protectiveness I feel for my children is unmatched.
“He’s obsessed with you.”
I look up at Tristan to find him staring lovingly down at his son. When he feels my gaze on his cheek, he lifts his eyes to mine.
“He always stops crying when he sees you,” he explains.
“A mama’s boy in the making,” I say fondly.
“He’s your clone already. They both are. My genes didn’t stand a chance, it’s like they weren’t even in the room when we made them.” He smirks arrogantly. “You can confirm I was, if the question ever comes up.”
I laugh quietly, careful not to make any noise as I watch Cato’s eyes flutter shut. Tristan hums a soft lullaby to soothe him back to sleep.
He’s not wrong. The twins both have dark, almond eyes and even darker hair. It’s too early to say if they’ll look like Tristan or not, but I think they will. I can’t imagine that his genes, like the man himself, will let that one go without putting up a fight.
Tristan has never been one to give up.
“That just means we’re going to have to try again,” he adds with a cheeky grin. “How about baby number three?”
My mouth parts in shock. “Don’t you think we have our hands full already?”
“We have two babies and four hands between the both of us. By my count, that leaves two available hands.” His eyes light up. “We could even go for a second pair of twins.”
I put my index over his lips in a quieting motion. “Hush. Don’t put that out into the universe.”
“Why not? If we keep having them two by two, that’s half the work and twice the reward.”
I snort. “Speak for yourself.”
Tristan reaches for me, his fingers coming out to brush the hair away from my face. His hand moves down my arm to my waist and finally comes to rest on my hip. He curls me towards him until Cato is squeezed between us.
“If there was a way for me to carry the physical responsibilities, I would, baby.” His hand moves to my stomach and his fingers dip beneath the hem of my shirt. He splays his palm against the bare skin of my tummy, his touch sizzling. “There’s something about you pregnant, about seeing you carrying my child… It’s indescribable. I want you visibly pregnant almost as much as I want the actual baby. I want to put you on display, to show you off so the whole world knows that you’re mine in the most primal way a woman can belong to a man.” His fingers brush against the lining of my shorts, teasing the sensitive skin there. “Whenever you’re ready, I’ll be ready.”
I tilt my hips forward, searching for his errant fingers. He makes me lose all reason when he touches me like that. “Okay,” I say breathily. “In the meantime, there’s certainly no harm in practicing.”
His smile turns downright devious. His hand clamps around my hip, his fingers digging into my flesh.
Cato mumbles softly, pulling Tristan’s attention down to him.
“Son, I’m going to need to put you back in your crib so your mummy and I can do an undressed rehearsal of giving you another sibling.” Tristan dips his head and kisses Cato’s forehead, then scoops him into his arms. He’s walking away with him when I hear him whisper. “No crying, don’t be a cockblock for your daddy now.”
I laugh as he disappears but don’t hear the telltale sign of Cato starting to cry again. He must have listened to his father’s request.
Tristan returns and closes the door softly behind him, his eyes pinned on me from the moment he’s back in our bedroom. I sit up and hold my weight on my elbows as I watch him approach.
He grabs the collar of his shirt and pulls it off over his head slowly, his gaze finding me again the second he’s free. His eyes stay on mine as he pushes his briefs down his legs and steps out of them. Then he straightens to his full, towering height, unashamed and certainly proud of his nakedness as he closes the remaining distance between us.
“Wife,” he whispers, his voice laden with lust as he crawls onto the bed and over to me.
I reach for him, wrapping my arms around his neck and pulling him close. “Husband.”
“Have I told you I love you recently?” he asks, burying his face in my neck and pressing hot kisses against the underside of my jaw, my throat, and down to my collarbone.
“Not today,” I pant, threading my fingers through his hair.
He makes a disappointed noise as he pushes my shirt up my chest, revealing my breasts.
“I’ve been remiss.” I cry out when his mouth closes around my taut nipple. His fingers slide beneath the band of my shorts and dip between my folds until they find my entrance. “Can you ever forgive me?”
I giggle and nod.
“I love you,” he whispers reverently.
His lips find mine and swallow the moan that rips from my throat when he pushes two fingers inside me. I feel his body shudder against mine, overcome by the sensations of feeling my pussy.
“Do you know my favorite thing to call you these days?” he whispers against the shell of my ear, his fingers moving deftly in and out of me.
I shake my head and he bites my earlobe.
“Guess,” he orders.
“Nera?”
“No.”
“Baby?” I ask breathlessly, my eyes squeezed shut.
“No.”
His fingers drive inside me with determined, possessive thrusts until I feel like I’m losing my mind.
“Wife?”
“Always. But no.”
“I don’t know,” I pant, quickly approaching my release. “Tell me.”
Tristan’s heated breaths hit the side of my face as he stares down at me, taking in the way my features are screwed in pleasure. My fingers dig into his shoulders as I hold on for dear life.
And then he lowers his face until his lips brush against mine and our breaths merge into one.
“Mother of my children,” he reveals.
Oh, fuck .
“You're all I talk about at the restaurants. I used to say “my wife” or “Nera”, but now I find myself saying “the mother of my kids”. “She’s the mother of my kids”, “wait until you meet the mother of my kids”,” he lists. “I can’t help myself. The more I say it, the more I want to say it. The more kids I want to put inside you so that when people inevitably follow up with asking how many children we have, I can say the most exorbitant number imaginable and it’ll be true.”
I come with a shocked cry, almost blinded by the wave of pleasure that crashes through me at his heated, possessive words.
“You like that, baby?” Tristan questions with a smirk.
He shoves off my shorts and spreads my legs, positioning himself between them. Then, with his eyes on mine and his hands on my hip and splayed beside my head, he drives inside me with one thrust to the hilt, not giving me any time to adjust.
My back arches off the bed at the impossible stretch but his hand cuffs my throat to keep me pinned to the mattress.
“That’s a good little wife,” he purrs. “Your cunt is so wet for me, baby. You’re clenching me so tightly, it’s a wonder I didn’t come the moment I slid inside you.”
His thrusts are savage and unrelenting. He pounds into me until stars explode behind my eyes and I come with a full-throated scream that rips at my vocal cords. My muscles clamp down around Tristan’s cock and then he’s coming moments after me, roaring my name loudly, his seed shooting into my sore pussy.
Tristan slumps over me, trapping my body with his. His weight is reassuring, his heartbeat comforting against my own as he holds me. My arms come around him and I drag my nails up and down his back in a gentle caress, just the way I know he likes it. He rumbles appreciatively, pressing a kiss to the area right behind my ear.
“Go to sleep, baby.”
He seems to be forgetting something.
“Are you going to stay like that?” I tease.
Tristan shifts slightly so that his still hard cock twitches inside me.
“Mhmm,” he mumbles, already half asleep. “I’m keeping every single drop of my cum inside you. I take my “practices” seriously, I learned that from your best friend’s husband.”
I frown. “You mean, Rh–”
His hand clamps over my mouth, but his head stays next to mine, his lips pressed hotly against my ear.
“Don’t say another man’s name when I’m inside you.” He nips my lobe again. “In fact don’t say it at all.”
I giggle and Tristan’s arms tighten around me.
“Goodnight,” he mutters.
“You’re really going to stay…inside me?”
“Yes.”
I wiggle under him. “I don’t think I can sleep like this.”
His hands move under my hips and then he’s lifting me and rolling us both until he’s on his back. I come to rest on his chest, with his cock still firmly inside me and his arms now wrapped tightly around my lower back.
“How about now?”
I set my head down, slotting my face into the curve of his throat and snuggling in close until I can hear his heartbeat.
“Perfect,” I say with a happy sigh.
***