Rowe by Jessica Gadziala

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Billie - 3 weeks

“Vi, have you seen a baggie of screws and washers?” I asked, rifling through my disorganized junk drawer.

“I don’t exactly snoop through all your shit, Bills,” Vi said as she poked at the soup I’d made her with a grimace. “This smells peppery.”

“It is peppery. It’s going to burn that cold right out of your system,” I told her.

“Will I have any lining left in my mouth and throat after?”

“Stop being such a terrible patient,” I demanded. “Drink your water and your tea, and eat your soup, or that cold is going to hang around a week longer than it needs to. Did you take all your vitamins?”

“There were eight of them!”

“And all eight of them have a purpose,” I said, nodding.

“Can’t you just like… wave some crystals over my face and make the ick go away?”

“Sure. If this was some cheesy TV show, I could totally do that,” I agreed, closing the tea cabinet. Why I was looking in the tea cabinet for a baggie of screws and washers was beyond me. But sometimes things could end up in the strangest of places if I got distracted when I was trying to organize. I once found my flavored massage oil in my spice cabinet. “And put some of that salve under your nose or on your chest.”

“It burns. It burns worse than the store-bought cold stuff.”

“Because it works better,” I told her. “Do you want me to get Rowe on the phone to tell you about how much better my pain salve works than the store-bought stuff?”

“Ugh, him again.”

“You love Rowe,” I reminded her.

“I loved him until I heard you screaming his name at two in the morning,” she told me, leaning up over the back of the couch to shoot me an outraged look. It was underscored by her red nose and puffy sinuses, though. She’d come back from her latest skip with a major head cold and a decently high fever.

And Vi, well, Vi was a terrible patient. She always had been. So bad, in fact, that her mother used to beg me to come and pick her up when she was sick because Lou had a worse bedside manner than most of the guys in the club, so her sick and high maintenance daughter was too much to handle.

“I know. Your poor, virgin ears, huh?” I asked, rolling my eyes.

“Listen, I am pretty sure that the rules of hostessing say that the hostess and host may not have loud, unruly sexcapades when they have a single and sexless guest crashing on the couch.”

“Really? What book of etiquette did that come from?” I asked. “And maybe you would be getting more sex if you weren’t constantly working.”

“Working is good. Working brings in the big bucks.”

“The big bucks that you never have any time to spend because you are, say it with me, always working.”

“Hey, I treat myself. I got four appetizers for dinner last night. I’m fancy as fuck.”

“All that cheese and fat might be why you are so congested today,” I reminded her. “Food is medicine,” I reminded her.

“Well, when it smells like this, it sure is,” Vi grumbled down at her soup again as there was a knock at the door.

“Expecting someone?” Vi asked, still a little on-edge about my having a stalker and never really saying anything about it thing.

“Yes. I am having another psychotic student of mine over for tea and strip Twister,” I said, rolling my eyes as I went for the door.

“That is an unnecessary visual,” Vi griped as I opened the door for Hope who, for the first time in months, had an afternoon free.

“Oh, thank God. You brought food,” Vi said as Hope came in with a bag of what looked like Chinese food.

“Um, eat your pepper soup, you pain in the ass,” Hope said as she walked past.

“How did you know I have pepper soup?”

“It’s not pepper soup!” I insisted, throwing up my hands. “It is literally vegetable soup with noodles and a little extra pepper.”

“It’s pepper soup,” Hope countered. “But it will burn any cold or bug out of your system in all of twelve hours if you have it a couple of times. So stop being a pussy about it and eat.”

“It’s lucky neither of you went into nursing,” Vi said, but she picked up her spoon and started eating.

“Did I miss anything?” Hope asked, holding out a container of vegetable lo mein to me.

“Only the porn Billie and Rowe were filming last night. At an ungodly hour, I might add. Oh, and Billie needs a baggie of screws and washers.”

“Screws and washers for what?” Hope asked, popping open the top of her container as she propped her legs up on the chair in front of her.

“She didn’t say,” Vi said, looking over.

“Because you don’t want to know,” I told her.

“When has that ever stopped you before?” Violet asked.

“Fine. It’s the bits and bobs I need to put my sex swing back together,” I said. “Told you that you didn’t want to know,” I added when Violet grumbled.

“Ugh, I hate that I know this,” Hope said, stabbing her chopsticks into her fried rice. “But you taped the damn things to the bars of the swing itself.”

“How do you know that?” Violet asked.

“Because I was the one who had to bring her the tools to disassemble the damn thing in the first place.”

“You’re a genius,” I said, hopping up to rush into my bedroom, finding the baggie almost immediately. “I feel so much better,” I said, coming back out.

“Isn’t your man still, you know, limited with his range of motion?” Hope asked.

“He’s getting a lot better, actually. Now that he has someone around to force him to do what the doctor said, not more or less, he has been recovering a lot faster.”

“Men. They’re terrible patients,” Violet said, nodding.

“Um, hey, Pot. It’s Kettle. And, I don’t know how to tell you this, but you’re black,” Hope said, rolling her eyes.

“I’m not that bad.”

“No, you’re worse,” I said, smiling at Vi’s mock outrage. “Hope, can you pass me chopsticks?” I asked, pointing to the set on her side of the table. She went to reach for it, then jolted hard and hissed, her face contorting in pain. “Whoa, what is that?” I asked, standing as Vi started to get off the couch as well.

“It’s nothing. Twisted wrong,” Hope insisted, but refused to make eye contact when she said it, not wanting to lie to our faces.

“That was not twisting wrong,” Violet said, coming into the kitchen.

“You stay back with all your germs. I can’t afford to get sick right now,” Hope snapped.

“Get up,” I demanded, reaching for her wrist because I knew she was going to object.

As soon as she was on her feet, I reached for her shirt, yanking it up.

“Fuck, Hope,” Vi said, mouth falling open as we both stared at the nasty bruise snaking up her side.

“It’s nothing.”

“This is not nothing,” I insisted, carefully touching the dark purple and blue flesh. “And, judging by the looks of this,” I said, spanning my hand out toward where a bruise had faded to green and yellow, “this is not the first nasty altercation you’ve gotten into recently. What the hell is going on with work, Hope?”

To that, her head fell. When she spoke, her voice came out small. “He’s back.”

“Who’s back?” Violet asked.

“My old partner.”

“The old partner you had on one job?” Vi asked. “One job where you nearly died, I might add?”

“That’s the one.”

“Where has he been?” I asked.

“I don’t know.”

“Well, why is he back?” Vi demanded.

“I don’t know,” Hope repeated. “But he is. And it’s like our boss is fucking with me because of it. I am getting every dangerous job while the rest of them sit on their asses in cars doing fucking surveillance.”

“Quit that fucking job, Hope,” Violet demanded. “Come work with me. We can chase skips together. It would be a lot more fun than dealing with those dickheads you work with.”

“It’s halfway tempting,” Hope said. “But if I do that before I get what I want, all of this,” she said, waving at her midsection, “will be for nothing.”

“What is it for?” I asked. “I don’t understand. You’re a strong, smart, and capable woman. Why does their validation matter so much?”

“I don’t know,” Hope admitted, and for a horrifying second, there were tears in her eyes before she blinked them away. Hope never cried. Never. I’d literally seen her impale her hand on a knife once and all she did was bitch about how long it was going to take to heal. No tears. “It just does. And I can’t make it not matter. So I have to deal with it.”

“That’s really not—“ I started.

“I don’t want a lecture, Bills. I know you mean well. And I love you for caring so much, but I don’t want a lecture.”

“Okay. How about I put some salve on that for you instead of giving you a lecture?” I asked. “And then maybe we can invite everyone over for a girls night.”

“Don’t you want to have sex swing x-rated fun with your annoyingly perfect man?” Violet grumbled.

“He’s out of town tonight. They’re, you know, handling that whole… Knuckles or whatever thing finally. I just wanted to get the swing set up for when he gets back.”

“Well, if we can track down the girls and they are willing to catch whatever she’s got,” Hope said, waving at Violet, “then I’m game.”

Did we all end up with head colds?

Yep.

Yes, we absolutely did.

But it was worth it.

Men were amazing.

But you always had to have your girls too.

Always.

Rowe - 2.5 months

“You okay?” I asked as Billie glanced around her bare apartment. She looked lost. And I felt an almost immediate surge of concern that I’d asked her to move in with me too quickly, that she hadn’t really gotten a chance to process it.

But, well, her lease was about to be up.

So it was either ask her before then, or have her paying another year, and the two of us bouncing back and forth between the two places. It just made sense to make the move. But that was easy for me to say since I wasn’t the one giving anything up.

“I, ah, I don’t know,” Billie admitted. “I’m going to miss Manuel,” she admitted.

“Well, you can be like Layna and subscribe to his naked poetry readings,” I suggested.

“That’s true,” she agreed.

“Do you want to change your mind? We can wait. We don’t have to rush into this.”

“It’s not rushing,” she was quick to object. “I’ve wanted this for a really long time. But I’ve never, you know, had a place that wasn’t my own.”

“It will be yours too, baby. And if you don’t think it will be, then we’re not ready for this step,” I told her, running my thumb down her jaw, then tracing under her lower lip. “I want you at the farmhouse. I want crystals on the counters and rose quartz by the front door.”

“Well, that would be silly,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Rose quartz is for self-love, not protection. You mean selenite or black tourmaline.”

“Of course, that’s exactly what I meant,” I agreed with a smile. “And I want your crazy colors splashed everywhere. And that weird cult music playing while—“

“That is Tibetan meditation music,” Billie objected.

“And I want to watch you from the front porch when your perfect ass sticks out while you bend into downward dog during your morning yoga session,” I added, reaching behind her to give her ass a squeeze.

“I like that. I can see it. Keep going,” she demanded, stepping forward into my arms, resting her face against my chest.

I was finally out of my fucking brace unless I was going to be on my feet and moving all day, in which case the doctor advised I might want the extra support. But the day I finally got to take the damn thing off and feel my woman against my skin with nothing but thin material—or nothing at all—between us had been a really good day.

“Okay. I’m looking forward to coming home from work to find you in the kitchen brewing up your teas or soups or whatever, dancing around to that new-agey, high-vibe shit.”

“And then?” she prompted, her hands starting to move up and down my back.

“And then I might have to interrupt you,” I said, my hands sliding down her back to cup her ass.

“Really? Why would you need to do that?” she asked, tone mock innocent.

“Because I’d gone the whole day without seeing you,” I told her. “Without touching you,” I added, pulling her ass more tightly against me, so she could feel my cock pressing against her.

“Really?” she asked. “And what would happen then?”

“I’d strip you naked and—“

“Show me,” she demanded, taking a step back.

“What?”

“Show me. Show me what you would do if you came home after a long day of work to me in the kitchen,” she said, sidestepping into the kitchen that looked nothing like hers anymore with all the peel & stick tile and wallpaper gone.

And this woman, this amazing, wonderful, unexpected, ridiculous, sexy, perfect fucking woman started to dance around her kitchen, shaking her ass to the song she was humming and pretending to mix something in an invisible bowl she was holding against her chest.

She’d never been opposed to a little role playing.

And I could never get enough of her.

“Oh, honey!” she said, beaming at me. “I didn’t know you were home. How was your day?” she asked, in full-on 1950s housewife pleasantries.

“Long. Stressful,” I said, taking a step toward her.

“Oh, no! We must find a way to ease your stress. Immediately!” she said, pressing her hand to her heart, making a laugh bubble up and burst out of me. “I have an idea,” she said, pretending to put her mixing bowl down on the counter.

“Do you?” I asked. “What’s your plan?”

“Well, sweetie,” she said, reaching for both of my hands, giving them a squeeze. “We could meditate together.”

To her credit, she said it with a straight face even.

And I was reminded yet again of a fact I’d become acutely aware of.

I loved her.

God, I fucking loved this woman.

With all her crazy and her warm and her sweet and her absurd.

No matter how many stinky salves she rubbed on me or how much disgusting tea she made me drink.

I loved her.

More than I’d ever loved anyone before.

And I had a sneaking suspicion it was only going to keep growing.

“I have a better idea,” I said, grabbing her hip with one hand, yanking up her sundress with the other, and pinning it against her stomach, giving me a view of her bare pussy. Because Billie liked going commando when she was wearing a sundress. It ‘made her feel like she had a secret.’

And I was sure as fuck not going to complain about the ease of access.

My hand moved downward, teasing up the soft skin of her inner thigh before my fingers slid up her wet pussy to tease around her clit.

“I think I like your idea,” Billie said, her voice catching as I snagged the bud of her clit between my first two fingers, and wiggled them up and down until she was whimpering and mewling, until her hips were rocking impatiently against me, silently begging for more.

“Think you might like this better,” I said, lowering down in front of her. I won’t say it was easy. My range of motion wasn’t perfect yet, but I was getting there. Besides, when I had good enough motivation, I could manage to do just about anything. Like fucking her to oblivion in that sex swing when we came back from tracking down those amateur bastards who’d been terrorizing their own neighborhood for well over a year.

And when it came to tasting Billie?

Yeah, I was very fucking motivated.

“Yes,” she cried when my lips closed around her clit, sucking it into my mouth in quick, relentless movements that had her angling her leg outward to give me more access as her hands grabbed my head so hard it seemed like she was attempting to crack my skull.

Her hips started to move against me, riding my face as I sucked and licked and nibbled at her sensitive flesh before finally, after she’d damn near screamed for it, sinking two of my fingers inside her tight pussy.

“Just like that,” she cried as my fingers started to thrust in and out of her. “Don’t stop,” she demanded.

But I had to.

Because I needed to feel her squeeze my cock as she came.

I got back up on my feet, grabbing her, turning her, and slamming her down against the kitchen counter, landing one hard smack to her round ass before freeing my cock and sliding on a condom before moving in close behind her.

“Fuck me,” she demanded, rocking her ass out toward me while I stood there for a second just enjoying the view of her dripping pussy that was begging to feel me inside it. “Rowe, please,” she cried, going up on her tiptoes and angling her ass out perfectly as I moved in that last step, and slammed inside her.

Hard.

Deep.

Taking every inch of her tight pussy.

“Greedy pussy,” I growled as I pushed my hips in just a bit harder, hearing that little gasp of hers that I loved.

“Hard, Rowe,” she demanded as her hips started to move in circles, my cock grinding against her walls as she did so. “Fuck me hard,” she demanded.

And, well, I didn’t need to be told twice.

I gave my woman exactly what she wanted.

I fucked her hard and deep, her hips slamming into the cabinet with each powerful thrust.

My hand snaked up her back, grabbing a fistful of her hair at the nape of her neck and dragging it back and down, forcing her to push upward on the counter, to arch her back to ease the sting as I kept fucking her. My other hand moved forward, yanking at the straps of her sundress, then pulling it down to expose her breasts, watching the reflection of them bouncing in the darkened window as I kept fucking her, faster and faster as her moans got louder and louder.

And then she was screaming out my name as she came, her pussy milking my orgasm from me too, leaving us both panting and spent.

But it wasn’t too much later that Billie let out a laugh that had me releasing her hair and sliding out of her, moving off to the side to deal with the condom.

“What’s funny?” I asked as she stood up, turning to face me, tits still out, smile beaming.

“I guess it’s only fitting I gave her one final thing to be pissed about on my way out of this place,” she said, nodding toward the wide open front window where a horrified Mrs. Barnard was frozen in place while walking Chanel. “Maybe we gave her some inspiration to take home to Mr. Barnard.”

“I didn’t need that visual,” I grumbled, grimacing.

“Oh, come on. Sex is beautiful.”

“Babę, I know you believe that. But I don’t want to be picturing saggy bits when I’m thinking about fucking.”

“Well, you know, one day my bits are going to sag. And so will yours, I might add,” she said, brows raising.

“That’s different.”

“How so?”

“Because that will come up on us gradually, give us time to get used to the changes. It’s not just going to be sprung up on us one day when we are getting physical.”

“Well, that’s true, I guess,” she agreed.

“Your tits are still out,” I told her, a smile tugging at my lips.

“I know. You love it,” she said, chin lifting, daring me to contradict her.

“I do,” I agreed. “You know what?” I asked, reaching for her hips, pulling her up against my body again.

“What?”

“I love you,” I told her, watching closely as the emotions played across her face. It was one of the most endearing things about her. She didn’t know how to hide her feelings. She just let herself feel them, and let everyone else see them. But no one quite as much as me. I got to see surprise and joy and love and the tiniest dash of fear play across her beautiful eyes.

“I love you too,” she said, her hands sliding up my arms to wrap around my neck. “Can I tell you a little secret?”

“Is it about another panty police of yours?” I asked, getting a slap to the back of the head for it.

“I’m trying to be serious here,” she said, shooting me faux angry eyes.

“What’s your secret, babe?”

“I think I always have.”

“Always have what?”

“Loved you. I know it sounds crazy and woo-woo, but I think I always knew. Some part of me just… I don’t know… recognized you. I know you don’t believe—“

“Babe, usually, no. But just this once, I think I get it,” I admitted. Because, despite it defying all rational thought, I was pretty sure I’d experienced damn near the same thing. It was why I could never get her out of my head even though I never considered her ‘my type.’ It was why it was so hard to keep my hands to myself. It was why a part of me had almost been terrified to start something with her. Because I knew how much there was to lose.

“You know what else?”

“What?”

“Your land has always felt right,” she told me. “It was why I was so connected to Malc’s land. Because it was yours to begin with. So, yeah, I might be grieving leaving this place,” she said, looking at her apartment. “Because I’ve had some really amazing times here. But I want to go. I want to be with you on that land and have even more amazing times there with you and our loved ones.”

“Well, then, what are we waiting for?” I asked, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

“Well, for you to tuck your cock away, for one,” she said, shooting me a wicked smile. “I feel pretty possessive about that. I don’t want anyone else seeing it.”

I shot her a smile as I slipped her straps back into place, making her dress cover her breasts, then tucking myself away.

“There we go. Perfectly normal couple,” she declared.

And it was about right that moment that I realized something was off about her sundress.

See, it looked like flowers all over it from far away.

And it was.

Except, up close, you could see actual cocks coming out of the center of the flowers.

Yeah.

Perfectly normal couple.

A one-percent, arms-dealing biker and his dick-dress-wearing woman.

Billie - 2 years

“Why are you crying?” Layna asked, stopping short as she walked into my house.

It looked a little different than it had when I’d seen it for the first time. The bones were still the same, of course, but like Rowe had mentioned before I officially moved in, there were crystals scattered on the surfaces, there was art on the walls, there were some colorful carpets on the floor.

It was the perfect mix of Rowe’s laid-back, rustic, masculine style and my over-the-top, colorful, eclectic one. And much like me and Rowe as a couple, it shouldn’t have worked, but it did.

“She’s always crying lately,” Hope grumbled, not the best at dealing with soft emotions like that.

“You guys are being mean,” Gracie said, patting me on the shoulder. “She’s full of hormones right now. She can’t help it that she’s emotional.”

“It’s not that,” I admitted, reaching up to wipe the tears off my face.

“What is it then?”

“I don’t like it,” I declared, and it was a low, choked sound because I hated thinking it, let alone saying it.

“You don’t like what?” Layna asked.

“I can’t. I can’t say it. You’re going to think I’m awful.”

“We could never think that,” Gracie assured me, giving my hand a squeeze. “What do you not like?”

“Being pregnant,” I whispered, my hand moving over my mouth as the admission finally escaped me. After months of thinking it. “It’s supposed to be so beautiful, so magical. I always pictured myself as glowing and radiant and blissful as a pregnant lady. But I was tired and sick and achy and moody and bloated. God, I was so bloated. My face was retaining water.

“Well, that’s not a surprise,” Hope said, shrugging.

“What?” I asked, surprised.

“Yeah, well, I mean you have this thing inside of you leeching off of you,” Layna chimed in. “And if it wasn’t enough that it was stealing all your nutrients, it plays on your bladder like a trampoline and, well, you’re kinda puffy, y’know? Sounds pretty miserable to me.”

“And you literally spent three months with your head in a toilet day and night,” Hope added.

“I’m supposed to love this!” I objected, a pathetic sob catching in my throat.

“Says who? Aside from you,” Danny said, coming in with a bag of groceries. Including about ten pounds of chocolate I’d asked her to pick up since I’d given up on having a health-based pregnancy at the five-month point. “Do you not remember me when I was in your position the first time?”

“I vaguely remember you telling me that you wanted Fallon to have to carry the baby and push it out of his dick,” I recalled, smiling a little.

“I still stand by that,” Danny said, putting the bag down, patting her steadily rounding out tummy. There was some comfort in having her pregnant at the same time, in having her there to tell me that it was okay if I was a complete whiny bitch for nine months if I wanted to be. “You know the worst part?” she asked, plopping down on my other side, kicking her swollen feet up on the coffee table.

“The way my nose has gotten wider?” I asked, reaching up to touch it, surprised with how self-conscious I’d been when that had started.

“No. That will go back down. The fact that your little gremlin is going to come out looking just like his damn daddy,” she said. “You’d think with all the work we do incubating them that they would have the decency to come out looking like us.”

“I mean, I don’t mind a little Rowe walking around,” I admitted.

“Yeah, he’s not bad to look at,” Danny agreed. “Did he steal my spawn?” she asked, looking around for her son.

“He did,” I said, smiling softly at the memory of him bouncing the toddler around until he was squealing and letting out a belly laugh that it was impossible not to smile back at. “They went to the stream. The ducks came back this summer,” I told her. “Shaw wanted to feed them peas.”

“He’s cute as hell,” Danny said, smiling. “He was worth all of that,” she said, waving at me. “And she will be worth all of this,” she added, waving at her belly.

Then, as if we’d summoned them, there was Rowe with a passed out Shaw asleep against his chest.

“Uh oh. Are we discussing doing a home vasectomy with a dull set of scissors?” he asked, grimacing at all of us looking at him.

“Actually, I think I need to see you holding at least five babies just like that,” I said, smiling at him. “Even if they all come out looking like you,” I added.

Did it make me any better of a pregnant lady?

Not in the least.

But Danny was right.

When Bay came out, he was worth all of it.

Rowe - 10 years

“Ah, babe, can I see you over here for a minute?” I called, seeing Billie looking at me as she put down the pile of junk that had accumulated in the living room, despite having toy boxes in all the kids’ bedrooms.

“At my herb cabinet?” she asked, sounding amused as she rounded the couch and made her way over toward me. “What’s up?” she asked.

Taking a step back, I reached for one of her mason jars. It was labeled Bay leaves.

“Bay,” I said, naming our firstborn.

I reached up for a jar of liquid.

“Clary Sage,” I read off the label.

Our identical twin girls that came in short order after Bay were named Clary. And Sage.

Billie’s lips were pressed together at that, her eyes dancing as my arm lifted again to grab another jar filled with little red and black nuts, then grabbing another with dried yellow flowers and setting it down next to the nuts.

“Mace and Rue,” I read off the labels.

Just like our fraternal twins, a boy and a girl. Because, apparently, since Billie’s mom and aunt had only each had one child, we hadn’t realized that not only did twins, but triplets, ran in their family tree. We learned that only after we’d had our doctor look at us with a wince at the ultrasound just a year and a half after being blessed with our first set of twins.

“You guys are going to have your hands full.”

Those were his words.

And they proved very, very true.

“You named our children after your… herbs,” I said, a strange, airless laugh escaping me.

Really, it shouldn’t have surprised me.

This was Billie after all.

We’d struck the deal on the names in her first trimester of her first pregnancy, when she was sick and miserable and saw no light at the end of the tunnel. So I’d told her I would let her name the babies if she let me name the dogs.

I guess it never occurred to me to ask the origins of the names.

“Well, you can thank Hope for talking me out of naming them after crystals. She thought that even with a badass biker daddy, little Agate and Peridot and Tourmaline would get their butts kicked on the playground,” she said, smiling.

Agate and Peridot and Tourmaline?

“I owe Hope a bottle of Scotch,” I said, shaking my head.

Billie let out a throaty laugh at that, a sound that was interrupted with a ear-piercing shriek from the front yard. My whole body jolted.

Billie didn’t even flinch.

See, Billie might have been a terrible pregnant woman.

But she was an incredible mom.

Maybe all those years of yoga and meditation had given her the advantage she needed to deal with five children, four of whom were within two years of each other in age. And even Bay’s age advantage over all the younger siblings was only a year and a half.

Which meant we were currently dealing with a son who was about to turn nine, two girls who were almost six, and a boy and a girl who were four.

The house was indescribably loud and chaotic from the moment the kids woke up in the morning until the second they fell asleep at night. And there was Billie, going through her day with a serene smile and unending patience.

“If it makes you feel any better,” she’d told me once when I was mad at myself for getting short with the kids, “the only reason I keep my calm is because of my scream and cursing yoga classes,” she said, shooting me a wicked smile. “You get it all out there and come home refreshed.

“Sounds like someone is either missing a limb or can’t find their plushie,” Billie said, moving past me to head out to the yard where the kids had all been playing so we could clean up inside.

They were under the watchful eyes of Johnny and June, our absurdly massive Saint Bernards we’d invited into the family around the time Billie found out she was pregnant with the second set of twins. Had it been somewhat insane to add two giant dogs to the family when we were expecting two more kids? Absolutely. But in our defense, we hadn’t been planning on getting pregnant again, and we’d already reserved the puppies from an ethical breeder we’d spent years reaching and sitting on the waiting list of.

I’d been ready to cancel the reserve, but Billie had been the one to stomp her foot and pout and remind me that she thrived on crazy.

And so she did.

Her mom instincts were on point too, because when we went out front, we found Bay playing keep-away with Clary’s favorite stuffed pig. Yes, favorite. The girl had fifty of them. And I wasn’t exaggerating. They all came from her Uncle Dezi who’d picked a different animal for each kid, and then went overboard with them for every holiday.

Bay had sloths.

Clary had pigs.

Sage had kittens.

Mace had opossums, for fuck-knew what reason.

And Rue had hippos.

“Bay,” I called, putting a little more force in my voice. It was my dad-voice, as Billie called it. And I guess that was exactly what it was. All I knew was it was effective. Bay immediately gave the pig back to his sister who did not possess any of her mother’s passivity, and retaliated by kicking her big brother in the shin with every bit of force in her body.

And then there was a lot more screaming.

Bay ended up with an icepack on his leg sitting in lotus position on the side of the yard with Clary beside him, both being encouraged to meditate on how they could have handled the situation differently. Unfortunately for her, Bay and Clary weren’t her meditating kids. She got them in Sage and Rue, the calmer, sweeter girls who were spitting images of their mom. Bay and Mace were a lot like me. Outdoorsy and active. Clary, well, we went ahead and blamed all that sass on her aunts. But we couldn’t be too mad about it because we knew that her level of attitude would serve her well as a teen and adult.

“What do you say about being really lazy parents tonight?” Billie asked, walking up toward me after giving up on Bay and Clary.

“I’ve never been opposed to lazy. What did you have in mind?”

“I say we order the kids pizza and Chinese and whatever else junky food that we don’t normally let them have. And we sit them down in front of the TV with unlimited access to the Disney app. Then we let them stuff their faces and watch movies until they can’t keep their eyes open anymore.”

“I can get behind that plan,” I agreed, nodding. “And what will we do? Sleep?” I asked.

“Well, I was thinking maybe we would lock the door and have some adult time, but now that you mention sleep…” she said, giving me a saucy smile as I grabbed her and pulled her against my body.

“You can’t take it back now. Adult time it is,” I said, leaning down.

“It’s been a really long time,” she said, relaxing into my arms.

We’d decided that we didn’t want to take any chances on landing ourselves with triplets after two sets of twins, so I’d gone ahead and gotten snipped a few weeks back. And since I wouldn’t be shooting blanks for about two months, we’d decided to forego sex.

Well, Billie had.

With some spiel about how explosive it would be when we came together again.

While I got her logic, I was just about to start getting blue balls.

“I vote we give ‘em ice cream too. Those little cups of chocolate and vanilla that they can serve themselves,” I pitched in.

“I will mourn for our couch’s upcoming stains some other time,” Billie agreed, pressing her lips into my throat. “Oh, you know what?” she asked, pulling back to look up at me, eyes animated.

“No, what?”

“I have an even better idea.”

“Don’t think there is a better idea than me fucking you,” I told her, letting my hand slide down her spine to give her ass a squeeze.

“Well, how about you fucking me in a quiet house with no worries about the kids burning it down or causing serious bodily injury to one another?” she said, smile spreading.

“Oh, baby, I don’t know if that is fair to your father,” I said, realizing her plan.

“Dad loves the kids.”

“Last time they came over, he ran around putting throw-away party hats on all the alien and monster penises around their place,” I reminded her.

“I told him not to worry about that. I grew up around all the penises and pussies and I’m fine.”

“Billie, honey, I saw a picture of you as a kid holding one of those alien cocks that you’d put a bowtie on.”

“I was like four. I had no idea what it was. So what does it matter? You know how many dirty, adult jokes they put in kid movies? It goes right over their heads. Besides, I bet my parents would love a little impromptu sleepover from their grand babies. And they can stuff them with junk food and ice cream and deal with the stains.”

“You know, it is sounding better and better. Call your mother,” I demanded, giving her ass a pat.

It was amazing how quickly two parents could pack overnight bags for their five children that would have absolutely every possible little thing their kids might decide they need to go to sleep with when the motivation was a night of uninterrupted sex.

Within a few hours, Peyton and Sugar were pulling up the driveway. Yes, in Peyton’s hearse. Because some things never change. They were going to be borrowing Billie’s hippie van where all the car seats lived, and we’d exchange back the next day.

“Pop!” Bay cheered, rushing up to Sugar, a man he hero-worshipped. Which I liked for him. And the other kids.

Having grown up a good chunk of my life without a family after my grandparents had died, I guess I really had no idea what I was missing out on until I joined the Henchmen, until they invited me into their enormous, crazy family.

And I loved that my kids would have what I never did.

They had a bunch of uncles and aunts to learn things from, since we all had our own ways of looking at the world, our own special sets of skills. And they had a ton of cousins—and more being born every year—to play with, to grow with, to build bonds with. Like Billie had with the girls. Like the guys in the club had with one another.

On top of that, they had a crazy-ass grandmother and her patient, adoring husband.

And, of course, the absolute best fucking mother the world had to offer.

Sure, maybe I was biased, but that was what I saw when I looked at Billie.

The best mom.

“I’m coming,” Peyton called when Sugar informed her that he had the kids all in their seats. “Here, I brought this for you guys,” she said, handing Billie a box. That I mistakenly figured was some sort of dessert or something. Until Billie pulled off the lid to reveal some sort of butterfly-shaped clit vibrator that seemed to be hands free, attaching to the upper thighs with straps. At my choked, uncomfortable laugh, Peyton’s gaze rose to me, eyes bright, amused at my discomfort. “Have fun with the child-free fucking,” she said, whacking me on the shoulder before turning and walking away.

“Oh, it’s okay,” Billie said, leaning her head into my arm. “So what if my mom knew what we were up to?”

“Just a bit of a mood killer, babe,” I admitted.

“Really? Hm. I can see that. Hold on one sec,” she said, moving through the house to the bathroom while I let the dogs outside to go roam around for a while. They were getting antsy, which usually meant Wolf’s dogs were outside, and they wanted to go hang out with them.

After that, I tossed some toys off the couch that Billie had already cleaned up earlier, and dropped down, taking a deep breath, finding that my ears were practically ringing from the silence in the house.

“So, are you sure the mood is killed?” Billie asked, coming from behind me. “I can always go head upstairs and hit the hay early,” she added as she moved out in front of me.

Stark fucking naked except for the hands-free butterfly vibrator.

I felt like I’d been kicked in the stomach at the sight of her.

“Fuck,” I hissed, my cock already getting hard.

“It came with a remote,” she informed me, opening her hand to show it to me.

“Give it to me,” I growled, holding out my hand.

Lips twitching, she placed it onto my hand.

“Yes, sir,” she said, eyes bright.

“Now why don’t you get over here and suck my cock?” I suggested, spreading my legs a little wider, inviting her between.

And I got to watch as the woman of my dreams moved forward and dropped down onto her knees to eagerly suck me off.

It wasn’t the first time and wouldn’t be the last, but I’d learned over the years that each and every fucking time was new and exciting.

And this time, we got the added benefit of the toy that I got to control while my cock was down her throat. Which had her moaning and whimpering around my cock, the vibrations of her pleasure shooting through my own body as well.

“Get up here and ride my cock,” I demanded, grabbing her hair, and yanking until she was crawling up onto my lap, lifting her hips, and dropping down on my cock, taking me deep in one motion.

Her head buried in my neck on a moan as her tight, wet walls tightened around me.

“You’ll feel it too,” she told me, rocking her hips in a circle. “When you use that remote on me, you’ll feel it too,” she told me as she pulled back to watch me as she started to ride.

I just watched for a long moment, never getting sick of watching her as she drove herself up using my body—the way her hair flirted with her shoulders, the way her tits bounced, the flush that crept over her skin, and the way her body tightened with each wave of pleasure.

My finger moved to the button thinking she was mistaken.

But then the vibration moved through her and into my cock, making me damn near come right then and there, I was so unprepared for the sensation.

It wasn’t the first time we’d used toys during sex. Hell, Billie’s collection of toys was expansive and always growing, and I never turned down a chance to try one with her, but we’d never used something quite like this before.

“Told you,” she told me with hooded eyes as her movements got sloppier and disjointed, like they often did when she was getting close. Which always made her lose the orgasm before she could grab ahold of it.

Grabbing her around the waist, I knifed up, dropping her onto the couch and getting on top, wasting no time.

I fucked her hard and fast and deep as my finger found the remote button and held.

Her whimpers became moans that turned into cries that bounced off the walls in the house, driving me closer and closer to that edge with her.

“Rowe, I’m going to…” she panted, trying to catch her breath, but failing as her nails raked down my back and arm.

“Come for me, baby,” I growled, fucking her harder still as the vibrations moved through both of us.

And then she was coming, her pussy squeezing my cock hard and fast as the toy continued to vibrate, creating this new sensation that had me powerless to stop my orgasm as it slammed through my system, damn near making me pass out from the intensity of it.

I collapsed onto her afterward and she wrapped me up with arms and legs while the aftershocks coursed through both of us this time.

“Wow,” Billie said when I finally managed to get some strength back into my arms, enough to press up to look down at her, finding her beautiful face serene and heavy-lidded.

“Yeah,” I agreed, watching as she pressed her lips together. “What?” I asked.

“So, ah, you know those ice cream cups we were gonna give the kids?” she asked, making a laugh bubble up and burst out of me.

“Want me to grab them and meet you in the bedroom in five?” I asked.

“That’s a splendid plan. Now, if you could talk my legs into joining in so I can walk there, that’d be great,” she said, grabbing the back of my neck, pulling me down for a long, lingering kiss that left my lips feeling tingly. “Okay. I think that convinced them to pull their weight,” she said, pressing a hand into my chest until I sat up then climbed off the couch.

“Five minutes,” she demanded, giving me a firm nod, then turning and walking away from me.

I was helpless but to watch her ass as she went.

But then I yanked up my pants, put the remote in my pocket, let the dogs back inside, then grabbed the ice cream to head back to my woman.

And I found her.

Sitting on the floor.

Putting the sex swing back together.

“Woman, you are going to kill me,” I declared, shaking my head at her.

“Oh, but what a way to go, right?” she asked, beaming up at me.

And she was right.

So I sat my ass down on the floor with her to put it together, both of us taking turns feeding the other some ice cream while we worked.

Then we went ahead and gave it a good workout until we were both so spent that we barely made it back to the bed.

“Hey, Rowe?” she called about an hour later as we both dozed on and off, not fully committed to sleep, but our bodies spent.

“Yeah, babe?” I asked, stroking my hand down her hair.

“I just realized something.”

“What’s that?”

“It’s a full moon,” she declared, pushing up to look down at me.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I said, a choked laugh escaping me.

“Hey now, I distinctly remember you saying that if you ever complained about fucking me outside under the full moon, that there was a problem with you,” she said, sliding off of me, and going to the closet to get the lunar blanket she always dragged out when she got a wild hair about fucking in the moonlight.

“I do vaguely remember saying that,” I agreed, folding upright.

What was it that I said about spending the rest of my life with Billie?

Insane.

But so much fun.

And that was exactly what it was like.