Rafe
September 30, 2017
I SNUCK INTO THE house after a long day of practice at Crush training grounds, carefully closing the door and tugging off my sneakers without making so much as a sound.
Peyton had left a note on the kitchen table. Dinner was warming in the oven. But I had other appetites to take care of first.
Lights were on throughout the house, and the place was a little more cluttered than when I’d first moved in. That was to be expected, and I loved all the brightly colored picture books and wooden toys and stuffed animals strewn about the place.
Bending down in the play area of the giant living room, I carefully arranged Callum’s books, leaving his favorite dinosaur tale in the center of the tot-sized table set up beside the windows.
On my way upstairs, I collected the odd pairs of discarded socks, Callum’s Spider Man sneakers, and—not at all surprising—one of Peyton’s Fozzie Bear slippers. I deposited the dirty clothes in the laundry room, and carried on.
In Callum’s room, I set his sneakers side by side next to the bed. Then I leaned down and smelled his soapy hair and clean scent. He still slept sprawled all over like a passed-out starfish, a sight that tugged a grin from my lips.
I kissed his forehead, smoothing back the springy cowlick in his auburn hair.
He murmured, eyes drifting half open. “Daddy?”
“Shhh. Go back to sleep, son.” Saying that never failed to tighten my chest.
His nose twitched. He nodded once. His eyes drifted closed again.
Thank God for that, because Pey would never forgive me if I woke him at nine o’clock at night when he had school the next day.
Fozzie Bear slipper still clutched under my arm, I headed down the hallway.
Peyton sat up in our bed, her light on, nose shoved inside the latest Sports Illustrated. From the looks of it, she wore very, very little. Something black and lacy—hugging her more than generous tits—thin straps snugged over her shoulders.
Without saying a word, I raised an eyebrow and tossed her slipper toward the closet. It landed next to a pair of the world’s sexiest heels she preferred wearing.
She only looked up when I started stripping down, and I saw the flirty smile kicking up the corners of her lips. The magazine forgotten, she watched me throw off my shirt, unzip my jeans. And when my cock appeared, she slid from the bed, sauntering to me with her long loose red, red, red hair.
A pile of folded laundry in a wicker basket lay next to the Moses basket near the foot of the bed, a present from Charmaine and Marquis. Teensy pink booties and tiny white caps topped the stacks of clothes.
“Long day?” Pey asked, all sultry and sexy.
She better not be starting something she wasn’t ready to finish.
It’d been the most amazing six weeks of my life, but also the longest, waiting for the go-ahead to fuck my gorgeous wife again.
I hooked her to me, slanting a kiss across her lips as my jeans slid down my legs and I stepped out of them, naked. “Not as long as yours, I’ll bet.”
“Well, they’re both asleep now.”
“I noticed.”
“Did you now?”
Leaning back and placing her an arm’s length away, I drank in the sight of her. I had nothing against all the teddy bears and soft toys and shit, but goddamn, Peyton in a sinful black lace teddy was the finest vision I’d ever seen.
“Mm hmm.” I kissed the side of her neck, and my hand fell to the soft slight pooch of her belly I loved so much. “Did you see the doc today?”
Her pregnancy seemed to have gone by in the blink of an eye. And I’d treasured every single moment. Even the times she shouted at me at the top of her lungs over some fool thing or other that usually made no sense at all, but like I was gonna fight with my heavily pregnant wife.
I wasn’t that friggin’ stupid.
She’d had heartburn, insane cravings, a raging libido I most definitely took advantage of. I didn’t mind one single bit of the whole experience. Not even when she cried over being fat and ugly and ungainly and a hippo.
I’d kissed away the tears and massaged her aching back, bought her a body-pillow, and sat up with her in the middle of the night when our baby moved too much, keeping her awake. All the things I’d missed with Callum, I etched on my mind forever.
The rounder her body got, the more I wanted her. Her tits even heavier and fuller than before, the swell of her belly, the sweet feel of our nugget kicking. Couldn’t wait to knock her up again.
And that night she’d woken me up, prodding me in the shoulder.
“Rafe. Rafe, dammit! Wake up!”
Instantly alert, I popped up to sitting. “What? Huh? Peyton?”
She hunched over, hand on the side of the bed, panting and groaning, her delicate face scrunched in pain.
“Oh, shit. Ohshitshitshit. It’s time?” I scrambled from under the covers, quickly wrapping an arm around her to shore her up.
We got to the hospital just minutes before her water broke. And sweat broke out on my forehead. The private suite ensured no one from the media would be privy to the momentous occasion, but that sure as hell didn’t stop the team from showing up, straggling in one by one in the middle of the night to take up residence in the waiting area.
I didn’t leave Peyton’s side for a single moment, just wishing I could trade places with her to take away the pain. Her blood-curdling screams pierced me. She gripped my hand so hard I thought she’d break bones. I probably fucking deserved it at any rate.
Hours later, my mom and Liv on the way, Callum safely in Phil’s care, probably the entire Carolina Crush team, coaches, GM outside in the waiting room, pain the likes I’d never witnessed rolled through Peyton’s body. Her screams shook me to my core, and I might’ve blacked out for a moment or two.
But, oh, man.
Man, oh man.
When our gorgeous little angel came into the world, squalling fit to be tied, tears rushed to my eyes so fast I was almost blinded. I kissed Peyton over and over, brushing damp hair from her cheeks as our tears mingled together.
“Is she okay?”
“Oh, darlin’. She’s fucking perfect. So perfect.” My voice cracked hard.
As soon as our sweet one was cleaned up, a nurse passed her off to me. Holy shit. I’d never felt such intense love in my life as I cuddled Peyton’s and my daughter in my arms. The tears streamed down, and I brushed my lips over the little button’s pink cheeks.
“Look what you did, Momma.” I sat gingerly next to Peyton who’d been cleaned up, too.
She gathered our baby against her, and I slid an arm around her shoulders, hugging both close.
“She’s beautiful.” Peyton lifted watery eyes to mine.
We kissed then, slowly, softly. We sat there, wondering at this gift. Filled with immense love and gratitude.
“What are we naming her?” I asked. “We hadn’t decided.”
Phil entered, big-eyed Callum in tow. “I vote for Philomena.”
Callum raced forward, folding into my arms and I lifted him up. “What do you think?”
“That’s my sister?”
“Sure is. Isn’t she pretty?”
Callum wriggled down then climbed up next to Peyton. He grasped both her cheeks in his hands and kissed her with a loud smacking sound then turned to plunk his butt down and inspect the new addition.
“Pretty?” He scratched his head. “She look all pink and scrunchy and weird. Why her eyes all gooey?”
We all laughed and I ruffled his hair. “The nurses just have to put the goo on her eyes for a bit. It’s good medicine.”
“The first name we decided.” Peyton drew me to her, searching for and finding my lips. Then she whispered, “Charlotte.”
Baby Charlie.
Once we got home, Callum had gone through a monster phase until I’d explained he was the big brother now and it was his job to look after baby sis.
Couldn’t believe he was in the first grade already. I’d taken him to school the first day on my own so Peyton could hopefully snatch a bit more sleep while Charlotte happily snoozed in a milk coma. But Pey’s eyes had shined with giant tears, watching our son toddle off to the Scout with the huge backpack weighing down his slim shoulders.
“Hey, now. No cryin’, darlin’.” I cupped Peyton’s face, kissing her firmly on the lips.
Of course I was the one who choked up when I’d walked him up to the doors of the elementary school, especially when he peered back to shout, “Bye-bye, Daddy! I kissed Baby Charlie before I left, and she smiled at me.”
I didn’t have the heart to tell him she probably just had gas.
The new NFL season started, and we were hell bent on making it to the Super Bowl two years in a row. Peyton stuck to her maternity leave, and we’d hired a nanny for times when Pey just couldn’t have Charlotte at work, but as soon as the eight weeks was over, I knew Peyton would be right back at the helm of Carolina Crush.
With our sweetheart right beside her—and me—as much as possible.
I’d been on top of the world the first Family Sunday we brought Charlie along. Per usual, Callum bounced around like crazy, but even he hushed when the dudes gathered around the littlest, newest member of Team Crush.
“Damn.” Akoni didn’t say anything else . . . because he immediately began blubbering.
Coach D held Charlie against his chest—our rough-voiced and badass head coach imparting a rare huge smile and soft-toned words. He was honorary grandfather after all.
All the dudes cooed at her. Brooklyn seemed most taken, after Akoni and Coach D that is.
“She’s so damn tiny,” he said, cupping one huge palm behind her head. “Am I doing this right?” He rocked her softly.
“Doing it just right,” I assured him, hand on his shoulder. “Calder, you wanna give it a go?” I asked our center.
“Fuck no.” He backed away, palms held up.
“Calder Malone. Get over here right now and introduce yourself to Charlotte Macintyre.” Peyton used her I’m the owner voice.
“Goddammit. All right. Hand her over,” he grumbled.
“She’s not a football, you know.” Brooklyn joked, doing the pass off with my precious baby daughter.
“Better not butterfingers the princess of Carolina Crush!” Marquis hooted.
Calder’s blush deepened as he held Charlie with such care.
His head bent until his nose met her downy neck.
He looked up, amazed. “She smells good, huh?”
Peyton had pressed up to kiss near my ear, chills rocketing down my body. “Baby fever’s catching.”
“You’re a damn meddler, woman.”
“You’re not complaining.”
“Not one damn bit.” And I sure as hell wasn’t. Except for the six week sex embargo.
Yeah, the birth of our daughter, Charlotte Caroline Macintyre, had knocked the breath out of my body . . . as Peyton was knocking the breath from my body now, in a wholly different way.
In front of the bed, Peyton’s arms looped around my neck and she rose on tiptoes. “Yes, I had a checkup today.”
“And?” I grasped her hips, bringing her to my solid erection.
“We can make love.”
“Not sure about makin’ love at this point,” I snarled. “But I wouldn’t mind fucking you all night long.”
Picking her up in my arms, I devoured her lips, swallowing her immediate gasp. I settled her on the bed, softening my kiss to light little plucks until I pulled back so I could take her in.
“You look like pure wicked heaven, darlin’.”
“Do I?”
I narrowed my eyes as she arched her back. “You know you do. Can’t you see how fucking hard you make me?” I hefted my cock, stroking a fist over it.
“God, Rafe. I’m not sure I can wait much longer.” She licked her lips, the black lace hugging her torso a tempting, flesh-teasing sight, her red hair cascading all over.
Stretching beside her, I caught her lips in mine. With driving lunges of my tongue, I speared her mouth, hands roaming to her back and lush ass.
She reached low, fisting my cock with a tight curl of her fingers until I groaned, searing pleasure shooting through me.
“Take it off. Take it off right fucking now.” Immediacy pulsed along my vitals.
But before she even tugged one strap down, I was on her again. I found a row of tiny buttons, popped them all open. Tussling with her, laughing at one point when we almost toppled off the bed, I removed the black lingerie and stared at her, starving.
Hips wider. Tits bigger. Ass plumper.
I’d fallen for with Peyton seven years ago when we were so much younger. Now she’d matured. Become even hotter . . .
A bead of milk shimmered on her puffy, engorged nipple, and my eyes latched to it.
“What?” she asked in a smoky tone.
“I wanna taste it.”
“Then taste it.” She gave me the type of dirty smile that made my cock throb harder, lifting her tit for me as the droplet rolled down, leaving a shiny trail on creamy flesh.
I followed the glistening wet track to the tip of one primed peak, which I lapped before sucking whole into my mouth. A slight burst of milk coated my tongue.
“It’s sweet!” I jerked up, her taste swirling in my mouth.
“I know.”
“You tried it?”
“Well, it is my breast.”
“That’s naughty.” And fucking hot.
So hot I went back down on her. I sucked at her with long slow lusty pulls, my fingers sliding down her belly and across her swollen clit then onto her cunt. Inside her pussy, I massaged hot wet flesh, preparing her.
She gasped as her hips hitched up, and I lifted wet lips to hers, leaving her nipples and crushing up against her.
“Fuck. Need to be inside you.”
Peyton looked delirious, disheveled, never sexier. She spread her legs, drew me in with her heels anchored on my ass.
I split her open, pinning her hands in mine above her head as I stretched out, fully on top of her. Her hips rolled up, her pussy taking me so goddamn deep my balls slapped her ass.
Peyton came with a whimpering sort of shout she tried to keep quiet against my neck.
I let out a rugged laugh, sawing back into the clasp of her cunt. I grasped her to me by the nape of her neck, the flesh of her ass. On my knees, I punched forward, my cock engorged beyond belief.
“Gonna come so hard. Jesus.”
Her hot moan and that clutching tightness drawing my orgasm right out of my body. I shuddered and grunted. Flexed and froze and strained.
Harsh raw thrusts spiraled, and I exploded inside Peyton. She came again, a hiccup of a gasp rolling from her throat as I held her against me.
The blood-come-rush pounding against my ears barely dimmed before I heard it.
The baby monitor.
Breathlessly, I chuckled.
I dropped my forehead to Peyton’s then nudged our noses together.
Withdrawing from her, I fought to inhale a deep breath. Peyton rolled to her side, laughing lustily.
I swatted her on the ass. “She’s demanding. Takes after her momma.”
I got to my feet, and Peyton whistled when I retrieved a pair of shorts from the dresser. In the bathroom, I wet a washcloth and returned to Peyton so she could clean up.
Looking at me from hazy eyes, she winked. “Hope you left enough milk for Charlotte.” She swiped all around her breasts.
“You, woman, are pure evil.”
Her low laugh followed me into the hall.
Charlie’s nursery lit in a soft glow, I padded to the crib decked out in pink ducklings. At six weeks, her eyes were now bright green instead of that newborn blue-brown. Green like Callum’s and mine. And her hair was black as jet. Thankfully she took after me in coloring only. She had Peyton’s rosebud mouth and the prettiest nose I thought I’d ever seen.
I scooped her up into one arm, wiping softly at the tiny tears on her pink cheeks. “Hey, baby doll. No more cryin’ now. Daddy’s got you.”
After she calmed, I laid her on the changing table, keeping the tiny squirmer in place with a hand on her belly while I retrieved the supplies. I sang to her, nonsense shit like changing Charlie’s diapey, here comes the wipey, don’t pee on Daddy as I got her cleaned up, tossed the diaper, and got her all nice and snug and ready for Momma.
Charlie gurgled up at me throughout the whole thing. So goddamn cute.
When I lifted her in my arms, her fingers curled around my thumb, and she cooed at me.
My heart expanded yet one more time.
“You really are the baby whisperer.” Peyton’s eyes shined with unshed tears when I delivered Charlotte to her.
“Hey, sweetie.” She kissed Charlotte then placed her at her breast, nudging a nipple inside the tiny mouth.
I crawled in next to them, on my side, my hand against the back of Charlotte’s head, fingers threaded with Peyton’s.
As soon as Charlotte had her fill, her bright eyes drowsy, I took her from Peyton. I swayed around the room a little, waiting for that final burp before I gave her a kiss then tucked her into the Moses basket so we wouldn’t have to go too far if she needed us in the night.
Skimming out of my shorts, I joined Pey. She was already asleep. I smiled, turned off the light, and pulled her into my arms where she snuffled a bit. I fell asleep curled all the way around her.
Weak early morning rays of sunlight streamed into the room when a noise set me off.
I pried my eyes open.
No, not a noise, but Callum. Loud, boyish, singing some made-up song about morning, and definitely heading our way.
“Oh, shit,” I muttered, pressing my fists to my eyes.
Peyton yawned, stretching against me. “Huh?”
“How come he never woke up early a day in his life until there was a sleeping baby in the house?” I nudged Pey, quickly finding her robe and sliding it to her moments before Callum burst in.
He woke Charlie with his shouted, “BREAKFAST TIME!” but miraculously, she quieted as soon as he squatted down and started babbling at her.
I peered at Peyton.
She looked at me.
We held hands beneath the covers, wide smiles wreathing our faces as Cal spoke in a quieter tone, “Don’t cry, Baby Charlie. Don’t cry. Big brother’s here. Look, I can make you laugh.”
He pulled a funny face, and she chortled like only a baby could.
Another hit of emotions climbed right up my chest. I squeezed Peyton’s fingers before shuffling back into my shorts, also under the covers.
Then I hunkered near Cal. “What do you want for breakfast, little man?”
“Pancakes!”
“Dude. Volume.”
His shoulders hunched up near his ears, an impudent grin on his lips, he whispered, “Pancakes, Daddy.”
“Pancakes it is.” I sent him packing after a morning hug and nose nudge.
“Thank you, Rafe.” Peyton called out when I pivoted toward the door.
“For the sex?” I asked, turning back while Callum raced downstairs. “Because I can do that on repeat.”
She threw a shoe at me with her usual awesome aim. Good thing I’d learned how to duck fast.
Yeah, her aim was wicked, but her face was so soft, her smile so compelling, she drew me back to her.
When I reached her side, she pulled me down to her lips, the kiss just as soft, just as compelling.
“For your love. For Callum and Charlotte,” she whispered.
My throat tight, I framed her face in my hands. “No. Thank you, darlin’. For filling my heart until I don’t think it even fits in my chest anymore.”