Chapter 22
A little foot kicking dangerously close to my balls woke me up. Remington was once again between me and Brooklyn and he was doing his best imitation of an alligator’s death roll—limbs flailing, body twisting and turning.
Before I lost the ability to give Remington brothers and sisters I tagged him around the middle and hauled him across to the bed and pinned him to my side.
“Are you awake, Dad?”
I was and I was finding it to be a miracle Brooklyn had slept through Remy’s thrashing.
“Yes. Why are you awake?”
“It’s morning.”
I didn’t need to look at the alarm clock to know it was barely morning.
And after another late night, I figured Remy would’ve slept in.
But here he was—bright-eyed and bushy-tailed at the ass-crack of dawn.
Apparently, the kid didn’t need much sleep.
This shouldn’t have surprised me. I was a morning person; even after years of late-night ops, it didn’t matter what time we rolled back to base—if the sun was up I was awake.
Which meant I was now awake. But Brooklyn wasn’t—she was asleep on her stomach, gleaming brown hair splayed over the pillow, lips slightly parted.
She was so pretty I couldn’t stop myself from staring.
I’d been to a lot of places, seen a lot, done a lot, had my fair share of women.
Some of them had spent the night, some more than once.
But never had I simply slept in a bed next to a woman.
And I’d certainly never shared a bed with a child.
Yet for the past two nights, I’d slept with Brooklyn with Remy between us, which meant I’d woken up in bed next to them.
And both mornings I’d woken up feeling lucky.
Both mornings I woke up happier than I’d ever been, even with all of the shit swirling around us.
I had Remington and Brooklyn—the rest would be sorted and then life would just be life and I’d still have Remy and Brooklyn under my roof.
Brooklyn in my bed—Remy hopefully in his and not sleeping between us.
As much as I loved my son, loved Remy close, loved watching him sleep, I wanted time with Brooklyn. Which meant Remington needed to be in his bed so his daddy could show his mommy how much he missed her. And that needed to happen soon—as in this afternoon when we tested the importance of naps.
“I have to pee, Dad.”
Dad.
Since Remy had asked if he could call me ‘Dad’ he tacked it on to every question and statement.
He used it whenever he could and as much I loved hearing it I hoped one day he’d be so used to me being around and secure in the knowledge I wasn’t going anywhere that he’d mellow.
But for now, I was enjoying hearing it too much to be overly concerned at the frequency he said it or that he was still asking to plan activities days in the future.
“Do you need help?”
Remy scrunched his face and shook his head in disgust. “No.”
“Then get to it, boy.”
The kid scrambled over me, landing a knee to the gut and another way too close to my crotch before his feet hit the wood floor and he ran to the bathroom, leaving me alone in bed with Brooklyn for the first time.
Knowing I didn’t have much time I moved to the space Remy had vacated and brushed Brooklyn’s hair off her face.
With the long strands still gathered in my hand, I bent and kissed her neck.
Then because she smelled so fucking good, I needed a taste.
So I tasted—up her neck, over her jaw, cheek, and stopped at her temple.
“Rhode.”
Throaty. Husky. Breathy.
Fuck, but I liked hearing her call my name like that. Sleepy and sweet.
“Morning, Sugar. Remy’s awake. I’m gonna take him downstairs so you can snooze.”
“Okay.”
“But, baby, today we need to carve out some time for just me and you.”
“Everything okay?” she mumbled.
Everything was fucking perfect. Everything but one thing.
“No.”
Brooklyn shifted and rolled to her side, her blue eyes still groggy as she tried to focus.
“What’s wrong?”
What was wrong was it had been over twenty-four hours since I’d had her heat pressed against my dick and my hand up her shirt while she groaned into my mouth.
“I made a promise to you the other day I’ve yet to fulfill. Need to do that soon, baby.”
A ghost of a smile pulled at her lips and tugged at my heart.
I play this right, I’ll get to see that smile every day.
“You did. I seem to remember you made several of them, actually.”
Fuck, she was cute.
“Naptime?”
“I thought you said naps were boring.”
I only had seconds before Remington would be done in the bathroom, and not wanting to be overheard, I leaned closer and found her ear.
“Brooklyn, Sugar, I know it’s been a long time but I know you remember.”
Her hand lifted and settled on my bare chest. Then featherlight, she skimmed her palm down over my ribs and back up until she traced the lavender rose.
My muscles clenched as I fought for control, doing my best to remember Remy was in the bathroom, but my dick didn’t care and that was extremely unfortunate.
“Huh,” she mumbled. “I seem to have developed a case of amnesia. I think you’re going to need to remind me.”
Praying Remington wouldn’t pop out of the bathroom—but if he did he wouldn’t be able to see what was happening—I grabbed Brooklyn's wrist, moved her hand down, rested it on my hard-on, then covered her hand with mine.
“Remembering yet?”
Over my pants, she slid her hand up and down my erection.
“Mmm. Maybe,” she purred on an upward glide.
“I think I’m starting to remember.” I gritted my teeth as her hand went to my waistband and slowly her fingertip pushed under the material.
With a tight fist and long, slow strokes, and a sexy-as-fuck smile, she pumped my dick. “Oh, yeah, now I remember.”
“That’s good, baby. Then you’ll also remember how much I love you on your hands and knees with a red ass.”
“Haven’t forgotten, honey.”
I bet she hadn’t. Never felt anything as good as Brooklyn’s pussy convulsing around my dick every time I smacked her ass. Also, I never had a woman come so many times with just my cock taking her there.
“Naptime,” I grunted. “That’s first up. You on your knees taking my cock. We got time after that, you’re riding me with your tits in my mouth and your hand between your legs.”
“Is that a promise?”
It was a motherfucking vow.
“Naptime,” I repeated.
“Naptime,” she echoed and thankfully released her grip on my dick.
“Rest up, Sugar. I’ll make breakfast.”
“Kay.”
Her hand slid out of my pants and she lifted her head off the pillow.
Knowing what she was asking for I met her halfway and gave her what she wanted.
Brooklyn’s mouth opened, my tongue slid in, and I barely had the wherewithal to stop myself from taking the kiss deeper.
The bathroom door opened and with one last taste, I lifted my head.
“Naptime,” I whispered.
“Naptime.”
“Ready, Dad?” Remy chirped, looking adorable in his little boy pjs.
“Almost. You good going down without me?”
“Yes!”
Christ, he was cute and loud.
“Go on, I’ll be right there.”
Remy shot across the room, flung the bedroom door open, and was gone.
With one more quick closed-mouth kiss, I rolled out of bed. Once I was on my feet I looked back and Brooklyn was up on her elbow, her eyes on my crotch.
“You seem to have a problem.” She giggled and dipped her chin, indicating the tenting in my pants.
“I have a big fucking problem,” I agreed and reached into my pants to adjust my now throbbing dick. “And you looking at it isn’t helping.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, is he shy? Should I look away?”
Sonofabitch. I should’ve fled. I should’ve taken my rock-hard dick out of the room but that was not what I did. I pounced. Before I could stop myself I was on top of Brooklyn. My hands went to her waist and my fingers pressed in until she squirmed under me and squealed in a fit of laughter.
“You think you’re funny,” I rapped out and kept tickling her. “Who’s funny now?”
I came up on my knees straddling her hip, keeping her lower half immobile, and glided my hands up over the swells of her perky tits, then over until my fingers dug into her armpits.
“Stop,” she wheezed. “Mercy. You win.”
Brooklyn bucked her hips and twisted her torso, unsuccessfully attempting to dislodge my hands.
“I won? What’s my prize, baby?”
“Anything you want.”
“You sure you wanna give me anything I want?” I asked, not letting up.
“Anything!” she shouted through a laugh.
“Oh, Sugar, you have no idea what you’re agreeing to.”
I barely heard the sound of pounding little boy feet over Brooklyn’s squeals and snorts. But I couldn’t miss the “Yippy!” Remington shouted as he did a flying leap on the bed.
“Sneak attack!” he roared, negating the sneak in his attack as he landed on my back.
Before he could tighten his legs around my waist I dipped my shoulder and Remy landed on the bed with a bounce. I went after him with tickling fingers.
“I’m gonna pee,” Brooklyn croaked.
Remington’s high-pitched giggles mingled with Brooklyn’s and that feeling of powerlessness came back full force. There in my bed listening to them laugh, watching them smile, both happy, my heart burst wide open and I fell a little deeper—powerless to stop it and liking that state.
“Who wants pancakes?” I asked.
“I do!” That was Remington and you guessed it—he shouted it at the top of his lungs.
I plucked Remy off the mattress, swung him up onto my shoulder, and shifted off the bed leaving Brooklyn lying tangled in the sheets.
Hair tousled, face flushed, cheeks pink—not the first time I’d left her in bed looking like that, but the last time she’d looked that way it wasn’t because she’d been laughing.
It was from multiple orgasms and exertion.
Arguably this time was better—but just barely.
I was almost to the door with a squirming Remington when Brooklyn called my name and I glanced back to the bed.
“Problem solved.” She smiled.
“Not even a little bit, Sugar.”
“What problem, Dad?”