He laughed. “Kinda.”
Rosemary tossed her giant teacher tote bag on the bench in the huge mudroom and kicked off her heels into the pile of Stride Rite sneakers and flip-flops. There were hooks for bags and baskets for shoes, but try telling Rosemary what to do with her shit.
“You may as well give yourself whiskey dick now while you got the chance,” she said with a wink. “'Cause that little guy in your pants ain’t getting any action until Friday night.”
Ash glared. “Why do you gotta be so mean to me, baby? You know damn well he ain’t little.”
His wife glanced around, and seeing no children in the immediate vicinity, slithered up to her husband and stuck her hand down the front of his jeans. “Because you’re so damn sexy when you’re frustrated with me.”
He breathed at the touch of her hand on his cock. “Tease.”
“You knew that when you married me.” Rosemary stood on her tiptoes and kissed the side of Ash’s neck. He felt gooseflesh rising to the occasion, and his Little Ash was in full salute.
This was nuts. He had to go and marry a damn panther shifter, a creature that could resist doing the deed for as long as she wanted. She liked foreplay. Like, really liked it. And when Rosemary wanted foreplay, it could last weeks.
Before he could stop himself, he had her face in his grip. He let a dangerous, wolf-like growl escape his throat. “I was already imprinted on you when you pulled that abstinence bullshit on me before we were married. You knew damn well I didn’t stand a chance.”
He saw her pupils dilate and watched the blood plump up her lips. She was ready right now. Why not lock themselves in the pantry right now and git ’er done before the children even realized Mommy was home? They were both as athletic as the day they met—pretty much—and they had repeatedly defiled every room, closet, and nook in this big old house, time and time again.
Ash could pick his wife up and take her right now, and she wouldn’t resist. And he would still be able to fuck the shit out of this crazy woman every other night of the week. He was tempted to try it. Ash looked down at that sweet face. She was looking up at him with a viciously arched eyebrow, like she was reading his mind. She was daring him to try something. To step out of line. Her lips were so close to his he could already taste them. He clenched his jaw.
She read his yearning for her like a book. Her lips parted, and she revealed her feline fangs for a quick moment, just enough for him to see them and to watch her run her tongue over those sharp, lethal edges before retracting them again.
Shit. It was unbelievable, the control this woman had over sex and over the release of her beast. Ash’s control was more black and white, but he could never just allow his fangs to show themselves. Once he crossed that threshold, there was no stopping the wolf.
Her hand was still on his dick, and it was now hard as granite. This was torture. Ash’s hands moved up away from her jaw to the back of her head, where his fingers laced into her waves. He gave a gentle tug. Her eyes widened; she hadn’t been expecting that, and in response, she let out the faintest panther growl that turned into a purr as soon as their lips touched.
She might make him insane, but she was always worth it. Those lips of hers warmed to him always and invited him to do anything he wanted and promised to do all manner of unspeakable things. Everything else fell away whenever their lips and tongues met.
Rosemary’s hand jerked away from Ash’s crotch at the sound of several pairs of little feet pattering down the hall from the family room.
Damn.
She tried to pull away from his kiss, but Ash was not having it. He let go of her hair and lifted her feet off the ground with a big bear hug, their lips still fully engaged in a serious snog.
“Eeeew!” It was the favorite new phrase of the five-year-old twins, Beth and Leon.
Ash put his wife down and promised the twins that one day they would understand. Before the twins could tackle their mom for a hug, the newly awakened toddler came jetting in line ahead of them. “Mama!” Robbie cried as Rosemary scooped him up for hugs and kisses.
She cooed over her littlest. “You’re so warm, did you just wake up from your nap? Your daddy’s a hot sleeper, too.”
Ash nodded. “Yeah, he napped, but I reserve the right to not tell you where exactly he fell asleep. Everything’s a little chaotic out in the back of the house right now.”
But the toddler chirped, “I woke up on a pile of Daddy’s undershirts!”
Rosemary laughed and shot Ash a look that said Ash had earned himself a spanking later.
He narrowed his eyes playfully at his wife. She arched an eyebrow at him again.
She had him by the short hairs, and she always would.
And Ash was pretty much fine with that. Pretty much.
* * *
Rosemary
Lionel and Betsy DuChamp came with their driver in their shiny black Suburban promptly at five p.m. on Friday. Rosemary smiled to herself as she watched her beefy, bossy daddy in his three-piece suit wrangle her five kids into car seats and boosters. She was deeply grateful, but also wished they would hurry up. She had just finished a five-mile run and wanted to wash the sweat and trail dirt off her body before Ash came home from his last-minute sex errands.
The driver efficiently stacked all of the kids’ suitcases, sleeping bags, and backpacks in the way back.
This was the first used vehicle that old Lionel
