Page 214 of Cocky Caveman

The bed coverings have slipped, and so has her nipple out of her black camisole, calling me to take advantage of the peek-a-boo pebbled nub. I wrap my mouth around her breast, sucking and tugging until she’s arching her back, her legs wrapping around me, squeezing me closer, inviting me in.

“Mmm… more…” she moans sexily, circling her hips, exciting Big A while we inhale each other’s lips and tongues.

“So fucking sexy,” I whisper, grinding my cock against her wet panties.

“Husband, I want—”

And then my wrist is vibrating again. I snatch my phone up. Rory is active, no longer content to sit and play.

I murmur against her breast, “Toddler on deck, no-can-do, but I will take a rain check tonight, and you can roll the sex dice.”

“Okay… lots of orgasms,” she says dreamily.

“As many as you can handle. Now sleep.” I kiss her on the forehead and tuck her in before looking for some clothes.

“Mmm… and we can play with the tantra chair,” she mumbles with a smile like she’s off in dreamland running with the thought.

“Jesus, woman. I am supposed to be getting Big A to calm down, not thinking of all the positions I can get you in on that chair,” I murmur under my breath.

“Such a good present, so many orgasms…” she mumbles, barely audible.

Ophelia’s out, softly snoring before I can close the curtains and get my shorts and T-shirt on, ensuring she gets a few more hours of sleep.

Shutting our bedroom door with a soft click, I turn the volume up on my phone, watching Rory bang on his door. “Mama… Dada.”

I’m coming, son.

I love my life.

Ophelia

It’s a little after two o’clock, and I’m wearing denim shorts and a pretty boho, white lace shirt, with my hair tied up and white flip-flops on unpacking boxes of merchandise in my renovated office. I mark each group off before packing them away in the appropriate cubby holes. Repeat and rinse when my phone pings, telling me I have a message.

My husband lets me know when I can expect him home from the mystery shopping trip he had to embark on at short notice, alluding to something for my birthday, which is still ten days away.

Tucker gave me the best present this morning; permission to sleep in while he took care of everything until ten o’clock when I took over. I have not slept in until mid-morning in forever. Honestly, I needed it. I was a bit of a walking zombie.

My family, friends, and animals are precious to me, and I don’t yearn for anything else; the rest is icing. I have everything I could want in my whole life right here on this property, although the tantra chair was a birthday gift I didn’t even know a female could want. It looks like a piece of expensive, curved leather furniture. I’ve nicknamed it the “Orgasm Chariot” or the OC. Tucker gave it to me for my twenty-sixth birthday, and it is our secret.

My cocky, sexy, handsome husband has made every moment we have been together since our two-day private sanctuary in the San Diego hotel after we got tasered, a place where my heart has felt protected and loved. And every day, he makes me laugh.

We came from non-dates to meet the family. We moved onto absence-makes-the-heart-grow-fonder to where we are now—three glorious years later—and I have no regrets for inviting Tucker straight away into my home. Those two days we spent at the hotel convinced me I no longer needed to fear the four-letter word.

I fell in love with a man who vowed he didn’t do complicated, he was a problem solver, and he lived up to every word. He crushed all my fears because he talked the talk, and followed it up by walking the walk.

Tucker’s parents took over his Redondo Beach home until they could buy another home. Funnily enough, they are still there writing paranormal books under Tempest Brooks and other genres under other pen names. They prove that age is just a number, and you can discover a lucrative new career at any age. They live their best lives, taking the indie self-publishing world by storm.

I accepted Tucker’s marriage proposal within a month of living back in Temecula. I will never forget the effort and love he put in. It was a Tuesday, and we didn’t have any bookings. I had been lazing around the firepit with my local sisterhood in the late afternoon, expecting a casual barbecue dinner with friends, including Jensen and Hank, who had made it back from Florida while I worked in San Diego with Mack.

Chance called that morning to announce he and the family would drop by at three o’clock-ish to show CJ the animals on their way home from their day trip to San Diego. Then Jeff, Judy, Harry, Tavish, and Ellen “popped” in. Tucker’s parents stated they had called in to spend time with Harry, Matty’s father, and thought they would come to say hi for a while before heading back down to Redondo Beach.

Around four o’clock, familiar music started playing, and Angus, Shamus, Wiley, and Tucker, dressed in black leotards and low black heels, danced on the decking, lip-synching perfectly along to the hit Beyonce song “Single Ladies”. Their dance moves were well-practiced, admitting later on that they started rehearsing two weeks after we arrived back in Temecula.

My sisterhood was clapping and cheering, and of course, they were in on it, capturing it all on video from two perspectives so they could edit it together later as a keepsake. Let’s just say the rough-cut has garnered eight hundred thousand-plus views on YouTube since Alice was allowed to upload that one.

I had my phone out, snapping pictures, thinking the guys were putting on a show because they love getting together and performing. Then I realized Tucker was making his way toward me with his backup dancers.

He took a knee, and I couldn’t have been more surprised. I truly wasn’t expecting to get engaged so soon, but I didn’t hesitate to answer him before he could even get all his words out. And then he put the most beautiful ring on my finger.

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