Page 12 of Fame
“You think I haven’t dreamed of breeding this perfect pussy every minute of every day since I met you? Baby, I know your cycle better than any tracking app could. I love you. I’m keeping you. I’m breeding you. End of story.” He punctuates each sentence with a roll of his hips, cock still an iron bar inside me.
“I think I like this story, Daddy. Give me another one?”
EPILOGUE
FAME
“Does someone want to explain why there’s a flatbed parked in the lot, unloading a neon green and hot pink motorcycle?” I’m asking, but I’m also pretty sure I already know.
“Not it,” Ace quips from Gunnar’s lap.
“Pink’s not really my color.” Cameron would have been the last one I guessed anyway.
From the couch where he’s got Grey and Blu cuddled on either side, Konrad just looks up with an eyebrow cocked. Last year, he commissioned a custom trike with a sidecar, so he could ride with both of them anytime he’s not riding for club business.
“Do I look like a neon anything kind of guy to you, Shaw?” Jax snarks as if the idea alone offends him.
“Blakely?” I float the idea, knowing what’s going to happen even before I’m done saying her name.
Sure enough, Jax is across the room with a hand buried in my cut, pulling my face up to his much higher one. Fuck, I swearbeing the shortest sometimes makes it hard to command the respect due to a club president.
“Don’t even speak that idea into the universe, fucker,” he snarls before releasing me and stepping back, his demeanor calm enough if someone blinked, they missed it all.
Arlo’s not here to ask, but then, that’s nothing new. The man spends every minute possible in his quarters with Frankie and Baby Teeny. He spends every spare dime he has on the two of them, too, so I know he’s not the one. Which leaves only?—
“You already know it’s mine, Daddio.” Amaliya does a happy little dance as she rushes past me to peek out the front door at the delivery scene in the front lot.
I follow more slowly, trusting she’ll at least follow the safety rule and not rush outside without me. While Amaliya’s proven to be every bit the brat she hinted at before I made her mine, a lifetime lived in the shadow of a dangerous father has prepared her to observe safety protocols.
“How the fuck did you even…” My question dies as she spins gleefully to face me, allowing me to pull her into my arms, careful of the baby bump swelling under her sweater. My baby.
“Credit cards, Daddy! Isn’t it grand? Just hop online and design exactly what I want, and here it is!” She’s so excited it’s impossible to actually be mad at her.
“We discussed this, Little Girl. No motorcycles until after the baby comes.” I try to sound stern, but the joy she’s brought into my world takes the sting out of my lecture. Still, there’s no way I’m letting my pregnant wife on a motorcycle. Especially not one I’m not in control of.
“I know, I know!” She rolls her eyes at me, earning a smacking swat to her ass. “It’s my push present.”
“Isn’t the push present supposed to come from the baby’s daddy?” I ask.
“Well, yeah, but you already promised you’d fix my tattoo as my push present. On account of I sucked at linework when I did it myself.” She’s not wrong.
Amaliya’s journey into becoming a tattoo artist has been, let’s say, a bit fraught. She’s got an amazing eye, but her patience for the fiddly linework of outlines is less than zero. Shading and fill ins? She’s stellar. Outlining? Pity the customer who lets her adorableness con them into letting her scratch on their skin.
“So you just thought you’d disobey me and get yourself a bike, even after we discussed the safety features I’d want to make sure it had?” I’m not some neanderthal who won’t let his woman ride without him. That’s Jax’s schtick. But I’ll be damned if I’ll let her hop on a bike without first making sure it’s good enough to keep my duchess safe.
“You wanna punish me, Daddy? I think my spanking bench is still out from this morning,” she offers.
“Pretty sure naughty girls don’t get to choose their own punishments, Brat. Besides, that ass has still got to be warm from the roasting you earned this morning when you decided to play with Ace’s stash of hair dye boxes. Even as dark as her hair is, green dye is visible when the light hits it just right.
“So no punishment then?” she chirps.
“Oh, there’ll be a punishment, Duchess. And you’re not going to like it. Get that cute little ass to our room, remove your clothesand assume the position on the bed. Daddy’s going to edge you until the blood pressure spike you gave me calms down.”
“But that could be hours!” She pouts, her lower lip thrust out and her puppy eyes in full effect.
“Yup. Hours and hours. Good thing I’ve got a cleared schedule for the rest of the day, just for you.”
