42. Archer #2
She looks unreal, moving up and down atop me—tits bouncing, golden skin backlit in red, lace stockings hugging her luscious thighs, the stretch marks she earned growing our daughter painted over her stomach.
Her full lips are parted, head thrown back, eyes closed as she rides me into the depths of ecstasy. My blood is fucking sizzling—raging with the need to fill her. Claim and mark her.
I press my thumb harder, rolling tight circles over her bud, desperate to get her there before I do. Her breathing gets harder, deeper, her body begins to quiver again.
She’s almost there.
“Gonna come,” I growl. “Can I? Please?”
I’m so fucking pathetic.
“Yes.” She pants. “Yes, co—” her breath hitches on a gasp and she goes taut, unraveling.
I follow her right into it, a groan barreling from my throat as I grasp her waist and tug her against me, flushing us together.
Her skin is warm against mine, breath hot on my chest as we pant our way down from the stars. I hold her tight, arm banded around her back as I twist her hair around my fingers, framing her wild curls.
“What’s your name, baby?” she asks as she recovers.
I laugh roughly into her hair. “Mr. Allie Evans.”
She returns the sound, and we take a moment longer to simply touch and savor—float back to earth together.
“I’ve got something I want to show you,” I say between long, heavy exhales.
“Mmm.” She hums. “Right this second?”
“Yeah.” I nod. “In case baby girl wakes up.”
“Okay.” She nods. “What’s up?”
I gently lift her off me. “I gotta grab my laptop, so why don’t you go get dressed and—”
A piercing cry echoes from the baby monitor on the table beside the couch, the muffled echo coming from the closed door at the end of the hall too. Allie huffs a laugh.
I kiss her forehead. “Go get some comfy clothes on. I’ve got her.”
Allie stands and heads toward the hallway, flicking the switch on the wall as she goes. The room is drenched in a sobering light as we transition from intimate passion to Mom and Dad. I turn off Allie’s red light and stop her music before I pad down to the hallway to Aurora’s nursery.
She’s wailing as I sneak inside. I leave the light off, stepping up to her crib, tucked against the wall beneath the mural Willow painted. A snow-capped mountain range beneath the brightly colored Northern Lights.
“RoRo, baby,” I coo, lifting her out of the crib. “What’s all the fuss about?”
Her blue eyes blink back at me as I hush her, rocking her in my arms. While she continues to cry, she relaxes a bit as she registers my presence, and wiggles against my chest.
She’s slowly starting to sleep through the night, but some evenings we can only get her down for a few hours before she wakes up needing to feed.
Then, she’ll sleep for a solid chunk of time.
It sounds like she’s been a little fussy all day today, so I’m not surprised to see her waking only a couple of hours after Allie put her down.
I change her diaper before walking back out to the kitchen, bouncing her as I go.
I hum, patting her back, singing her favorite song as I make my way down the hall.
When I reach the living room, Allie’s curled up on the couch in a pair of sweats and a cut-off hoodie, her hair tied up in a bun and her face freshly washed.
She’s moved the coffee table back in front of the sofa with my computer on top of it, though her pole stays up in the middle of the room. I’ll take it down later.
She holds out her arms, beckoning for me to hand her our daughter. Ro is still crying as Allie lifts her sweater and lowers her bra. Taking the baby, Allie helps her latch, and our daughter finally settles as she begins to feed.
Allie adjusts herself, getting comfortable. She looks so natural, in her element, as she nurses our perfect girl. She fit into her role as a mother flawlessly, and while I know she struggles with moments of insecurity and fear, I couldn’t imagine experiencing this with anyone else.
We’re young. We’ve been reckless and messy, but fuck if we weren’t born for this.
Born to navigate it all together, and come out the other side of every obstacle stronger than before.
When I watch Allie interact with our daughter, my entire world dissolves into nothing more than the two of them.
I was made for loving them, and as I look after them now, in our beautiful home, living the life we forged together, I know this was the exact outcome we’d been searching for all along.
“What do you need to show me?” Allie asks, yawning.
I pull my computer onto my lap, flipping it open before I navigate to my saved emails folder. I open the first one, flipping my screen around so she can see it. “Go ahead and read through that for me.”
She scans the screen, brow furrowing at first as she registers the information. Her eyes slowly widen, scanning the page faster as her draw drops. I’ve read the email through enough times to know exactly what she’s seeing as each new expression takes over her face.
Dear Miss Evans,
We are elated to offer you admission to the Advanced Pastry Arts Programme at the Culinary Institute of—
“Paris?” she shrieks, immediately pausing to glance down at Ro and ensure she’s not disturbed. “You applied for me to attend a culinary program in fucking Paris?”
I grin, nodding. “It’s six weeks, and it starts in April. So, we can all go together.”
Her lips quiver, eyes lining with tears though her gaze remains awed and hope-filled. “What are you going to do while I’m in class?”
“Be a stay-at-home DILF.”
She shakes her head in disbelief, eyes drifting to Ro before lifting back to me. “I can’t believe you did this.”
“I believe in you. You spent years investing in my future, and made sure all of my dreams came true, Allie. I’ll be damned if I don’t do the same for you.”
She blinks hard, as if fighting back the tears that have already begun to fall, whispering an emotion-clogged, “Thank you.”
I nod. “Go to the next email.”
She tilts her head, confusion tracing her features before her eyes fall back to the screen, she clicks to the second email in the folder. The moment a soft gasp leaves her lips and a tear finally drips over her cheek, I smile.
“I thought we’d start the trip in Iceland. April is a great time of year to see the Northern Lights.”
“Archer,” she whispers, voice thick with astonishment. “I…” She shakes her head, words lost.
She glances down, pulling Ro off her breast, and I take her from Allie’s arms as she pulls up her bra and readjusts her sweatshirt. I grab the towel I brought from the nursery and toss it over my shoulder before positioning Ro against my chest and beginning to burp her.
“You gave me everything I’ve ever wanted in life, Allie. I’m going to give you everything too.”
She shakes her head, an expression of raw adoration accenting her features. She leans forward, placing her palm on our daughter’s back as she cups my face with the other. “This is all I’ve ever wanted too.”
I brush my nose along hers, kissing away the tears that dot her cheeks. “I want to give you more.”
She grips my jaw, drawing my mouth to hers, whispering, “I love you so much,” before kissing me.
Hard. Purposeful. Fervent.
“I love you,” I rasp, kissing her back.
She cuddles into my side, wrapping our tiny family in an all-consuming cocoon. She houses the warmth of the sun, breathes me in like my skin is her atmosphere.
Bound by light, we bask in the vibrant color we created together.