Epilogue #2
His pace quickens, one hand braced beside my head while the other grips my hip possessively. Pleasure coils tighter with every thrust. “Say it, Buttercup. Tell me whose baby you’re carrying. Tell me who owns you.”
“Yours,” I gasp, nails digging into his shoulders as I meet his thrusts. “All yours, Tiny.”
He growls in satisfaction, pounding into me with that perfect rhythm that drives me wild. “Damn right. Gonna fuck you slow and deep like this for months. Keep my Buttercup glowing and satisfied. You’re mine to love, mine to breed, mine to spoil forever.”
We come together hard, his release spilling deep inside me as he holds me like he’ll never let go. Afterward he collapses beside me and pulls me tight against his chest, one hand immediately returning to my stomach. “I love you, Buttercup. Love you and our baby more than anything in this world.”
The next morning I wake to the smell of breakfast. Tiny stands at the stove flipping eggs. I walk up behind him and wrap my arms around his waist. “You didn’t have to cook.”
He turns and kisses me deeply. “I want to. You’re growing our baby. Least I can do, Buttercup.”
We eat on the porch as the compound wakes up around us. Kids running between houses, brothers waving as they pass. Scarlett pulls up and hugs me tight when I tell her the news. “A baby! The girls are going to lose their minds.”
Tessa, Hadley, and Erica show up later. We sit in the living room with cookies and coffee. They all talk at once, excited and teasing.
“Tiny is going to be overprotective as hell,” Hadley says with a laugh.
Erica nods. “Steele already offered to build a crib. The whole club is going to spoil this kid rotten.”
Tiny comes in from the garage, sees the group, and smiles big. “Ladies. Taking good care of my wife?”
Scarlett grins. “Always. Congratulations, Papa.”
He walks over and drops a kiss on my head, pride rolling off him. “Best news I ever got.”
The days blend into weeks. My belly grows slowly. Tiny comes to every doctor appointment, holding my hand during the first ultrasound. The heartbeat fills the room and his eyes stay locked on the screen. “That’s our kid,” he whispers, voice thick. “Our little miracle.”
Club life continues steadily. We host barbecues on weekends, kids chasing each other across the grass while brothers laugh loud but gentle around the little ones.
Tiny teaches one of the older boys how to check oil on a bike.
I watch from the porch with the girls, happiness settling deep in my bones.
One evening we sit on our porch after dinner. I’m in Tiny’s lap now that my balance feels off. His hand rests on my rounded stomach. The baby kicks suddenly. Tiny stills, wonder filling his face. “Feel that, Buttercup? Strong already. Just like their mom.”
A few weeks later the girls decide the baby shower needs to happen at Perdition during the day so the whole club can be part of it.
I try to argue for something smaller, but once Tessa, Scarlett, Hadley, and Erica get an idea in their heads there is no stopping them.
By the time Saturday afternoon rolls around, the clubhouse has been completely transformed in the most ridiculous way possible.
Perdition looks like a biker baby store exploded inside it.
Pink and black streamers hang from the rafters next to chrome exhaust pipes and fairy lights.
A giant banner that reads “Tiny’s Spawn Incoming – Lock and Load” stretches across the bar in glittery letters.
Someone has parked a miniature pink Harley Davidson trike in the middle of the room, complete with training wheels and a tiny cut that says “Future Prospect” on the back.
Balloons in every shade of pink and black float everywhere, bumping into brothers’ heads as they try to walk through.
Tiny is completely unhinged from the moment we walk in.
He has one arm wrapped around me like I might vanish into thin air, the other hand glued to my rounded belly.
He glares at anyone who gets within three feet of us.
“Nobody bump into my Buttercup,” he growls loudly enough for the whole room to hear.
“She’s carrying my kid. You breathe on her wrong and I’ll put you through a fucking wall. ”
When a prospect accidentally walks too close with a tray of drinks, Tiny actually steps in front of me like a human shield, chest puffed out.
“Back the fuck up, prospect! That’s my woman and my baby in there.
Go find something useful to do before I make you detail every bike in the lot with a toothbrush. ”
Scarlett snorts from across the room where she’s arranging a mountain of cupcakes decorated with tiny sugar bikes. “Relax, Papa Bear. We baby-proofed the whole damn place.”
The shower is pure chaos in the best way.
The old ladies and club girls have set up games that quickly spiral out of control.
“Guess the Baby Food Flavor” turns into an absolute disaster when Pres blindfolds himself and ends up declaring motor oil “surprisingly sweet.” Hadley runs a diaper raffle that somehow ends with grown men competing to see who can put a diaper on a baby doll the fastest. Wyatt and Weston tie for first, mostly because they cheat and team up, wrestling each other to the ground while the doll’s head pops off and goes flying.
Tiny refuses to play any game that involves leaving my side.
Instead he sits next to me on the big leather couch like a king on his throne, pulling me halfway into his lap so he can rub my belly in slow circles.
Every single time someone brings over a gift he inspects it like it might be booby-trapped.
When Steele and Erica hand us a handmade wooden crib, Tiny’s eyes get suspiciously shiny for half a second before he clears his throat and declares dramatically, “This is solid as hell. My daughter is gonna sleep like a fucking princess in this. If anyone even looks at it wrong I’ll burn the whole damn clubhouse down. ”
The gifts keep coming and they get more ridiculous as the afternoon goes on.
Someone gives us a tiny leather onesie with “Daddy’s Biker Baby” stitched on the back.
Another brother presents a miniature tool kit “for when she starts working on her first bike at age three.” Tiny loses it in the best way.
He holds the tiny wrench set up like it’s a trophy and shouts across the room, “You hear that, Buttercup? Our girl’s getting her own tools before she can walk! That’s my fucking kid right there!”
Tessa brings the most beautiful handmade blanket, but Hadley counters with a onesie that says “Future Heartbreaker – Just Like Daddy.” Tiny actually chokes up for a second, then covers it by pulling me in for a deep kiss right there in front of everyone while his hand splays dramatically over my belly.
“Damn right she’ll break hearts,” he mumbles against my lips.
“But she’ll know how to throw a punch first. I’m teaching her myself. ”