Page 133 of CowSex
She bats her lashes and smiles at me sweetly.
“We’ll see who’s cracking jokes when you’re trying to squeeze something the size of a cantaloupe out of that tight little pussy of yours.”
Her mouth drops open, like wide open. I shouldn’t have said that.
I really shouldn’t have said that.
“I’m thinking my tight little pussy might just need a year to recover from something like that.”
I give her ass squeeze because she’s still butt naked and my hands are full of her soft flesh. Is it wrong that I’m still hard for her?
“Essex, we both know there’s no way you’ll be able to go a year without having me inside you. You struggle to go one day just lately.”
“I’ve still got Vance in a drawer somewhere, he can give me everything I need.”
I bite her neck, squeeze her ass once more and tell her, “I’ll run you a bath, go make sure you’ve got everything you need in the bag you’ve packed and unpacked thirty times.”
I turn her around, gently smack her ass and send her on her way.
“You keep it up cowboy, I’m thinking maybe a two-year recovery.”
“Not happening. I want you knocked up again by Christmas.”
Her steps falter as she mumbles, “No fucking way. I’m having a drink and enjoying Christmas this year.”
GRACIE: THREE YEARS LATER…
HE DIDN’T KNOCK ME UPby Christmas, it happened New Year's Eve.
I sit with my sketch pad on my knees, staring out at the water. I’d originally come to Colorado to get some inspiration for a ski wear range. It didn't happen. Instead, I became swept away and sucked into a life that you only read about in romance novels or watch on made for television films on rainy afternoons.
I met a man.
A unique, amazing man.
And within the space of three weeks, I’d fallen in love and agreed to marry him. To become his third wife.
Third wife. Alarm bells should’ve started ringing at the knowledge that he’d tried marriage twice before—and failed.
They did ring, loudly. I just chose to ignore them. And now here we are, two kids and three years later.
“Will you please be careful with her?” I shout to Koa, or Kai, whichever one of them might do me the courtesy of listening.
“She’s fine, you really think I’d let anything happen to her?” Koa calls back.
He wouldn’t, I know with one hundred percent certainty that he wouldn’t. But I’m a mum and when two six-foot-plus men are throwing your one-year-old, eighteen-pound baby girl through the air in a game of catch, while standing chest deep in a freshwater lake, it’s my job to remind them to be careful.
“Daddy and Kai used to throw me like that, but I’m too old for all of that nonsense now.”
I smile down at Malia, who’s on a blanket at my feet, sketching in her own pad. She spends more time with us than she does with her mother these days, especially since Lucy separated from husband number three and started a rather bitter divorce process.
I watch Koa as he emerges from the water, body wet and glistening in the sun, our baby girl, Lani, on his hip, our son Flint on his shoulders.
I lick my lips as my womb contracts, causing my belly to tighten.
Yep, I’m gonna have three kids under three. The next baby Carmichael is due in about eight weeks and after that, I’m shutting up shop. I’ve done my bit to make sure my husband's handsome genes continue to populate the planet, along with Kai and Malia, there will be five of his offspring spreading the gorgeousness.
When he reaches us, Koa shakes a dripping Lani, and his wet hair, all over Malia and I as we work. Malia screams, secretly loving the attention she’s now getting from her dad. We’ve been mindful of the fact she’s probably feeling a little insecure with all of the changes in her life right now, and I try my hardest to show her as much love as I do Lani and Flint.
