“Bite me harder. Please,” she begged.
“Tell me the truth,” he answered.
She sucked in a breath and said it. “I’m ovulating,” she said hoarsely. “I set the wedding date so I’d be not just ovulating but it’s the sixth month. Our cycles are the most powerful after the sixth new moon.”
For some reason, Ash slowed his thrusts. She thought at first she had said something wrong.
Then he let her have it. “My scheming little cat,” he said. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
She replied, “Would it have made you all that much hornier for the wedding night if you’d known all along that you’d be almost guaranteed to get me pregnant our first time?”
“Fuck yes.”
“I was trying to save you from losing your shit, Ash. Now, will you please bite me some more before I lose mine?”
Ash obliged, with vigor. When Rosemary writhed at the sensation of his teeth and begged for more, he bit harder and longer, sucking to leave the huge love bites that she craved.
She relished the thought of her entire body bearing his marks the next morning. She thrilled at the lifetime of fun days with the wild little brood they would make together, followed by nights of rough yet tender ecstasy.
The beasts inside them had met their match, and the animals wanted it all. The cat wanted everything the wolf would give and more. She had never imagined it would feel this good with anyone, especially anyone so unlike her kind.
Being intimate with Ash felt like falling off a cliff and flying at the same time. It felt as if neither of them was in control of this relationship any longer. They were just vessels for something greater. The seed kept coming, and her sex was drawing it all in with a vengeance.
Exactly what that new life would look like remained to be seen. What this little bean, already forming inside of her, could do was a mystery waiting to be discovered.
Epilogue
Ten Years Later…
Ash
Rosemary is up to her old tricks again.
Dammit.
But I have to admit, I kind of like it.
Ash ran his hands through his hair and gritted his teeth as he read the text from his wife:
You are so busted. I’m issuing a punishment. No more Rosie pie for you for the next five days.
And don’t even think about pleasing the master of your domain by yourself. Mama and Daddy are taking the brood away for the weekend, and I don’t want you wasting any of your good stuff. Save that shit up, because I want another baby.
Okay. A lot was going on in this text.
First, Ash had to remember what exactly he had done now to earn himself a spot in pussy jail.
Then he remembered.
Last night he had been texting with his buddy Vann, who was currently sailing Southeast Asia with his wife. Vann had said that GiGi had hinted that maybe she would have liked a bigger wedding. Those two had been married in a small ceremony on the beach, eager to get married quickly before the next travel show assignment. Ash had replied to Vann:
Consider yourself lucky. I could have done without Rosemary’s craziness around our wedding.
He realized then that Vann had shared this comment with GiGi, and GiGi, being a cousin who was more like a sister to Rosemary, had shared this comment with Rosemary.
Sure, Ash would have liked a shorter and less…abstinent…engagement. But the big picture? He regretted nothing. He looked around the family room of their six-bedroom home—with Legos strewn around the Oriental rugs and antique bookshelves filled with Pokémon cards next to first-edition classic tomes—and he couldn’t be happier. Ash Jr, age nine, had come along nine months after the honeymoon and was at this moment outside doing semi-dangerous science experiments.
Ash stepped over some Legos and slid open the glass door of the family room that overlooked the lake. “Junior, you need any help?”
“Wanna light the rocket for me?”
Ash went over and took the matches away from his oldest son.
“The teacher says I shouldn’t mess with fire by myself.”
Ash laughed. “You’re a Boudreaux. You were born knowing how to handle fire.”
Ash Jr. shrugged. “I know, but rules are rules.”
Reflecting on Rosemary’s text, Ash wondered if five days of abstinence was a lot to most married couples. He had no clue. He supposed he should be thankful he was getting nookie on a semi-daily basis.
Ash Sr. looked at his son and saw the sweet, crooked grin of Charlene Boudreaux. How he wished his kids could have known their paternal grandmother. She had been a beauty queen with an even more beautiful heart.
The rocket blasted off, and Ash Jr. cheered maniacally. Ash was grateful his kids at least had Betsy and Lionel, and his own father, Jimmy. Although Lionel was a royal pain in the ass, the old man was good to the kids.
Ash padded back inside the family room and spotted his oldest daughter, Rosie The Sequel (the family nickname for the oldest daughter, who was shaping up to be a replica of her mother), age seven, who was building Cinderella’s castle out of Legos. The twins, Leon and Beth, were five and were currently sharing a beanbag chair and drawing on each other with washable markers. The youngest, Robbie, was two, and asleep on the floor on a pile of clean, yet-to-be-folded laundry.
So, she wants another little ankle-biter, does she? Why the hell not? We’re still young. Mostly.
Ash retreated to the kitchen and poured himself a glass of water. He didn’t drink nearly as much whiskey since they started having kids, but he had to admit he wanted it more often lately. This house was pretty damn loud. And his little girls had screams that rattled his ears as nothing else could. The boys certainly gave the girls a run for their money in the screaming department sometimes, though.
And now Rosemary was getting the baby fever again. He downed the water. Better stay hydrated for whatever comes next.
“Want some vodka with that?” Ash spun
