SIX-MONTHS LATER
“Happy Birthday to you,” Lisandro belts out, a little excitedly.
I don’t know what else I’m going to wish for, but I bend over the cake slightly and close my eyes, blowing out my candle as I make my last and final wish.
It has been a tough six-months for the club and its members, but it’s nice to see all of them here today, celebrating my birthday with me. I watch as Serina, the ex-clubwhore, slides up against Grease and wraps her arms around his large stomach. He’s definitely not the kind of man I would curl up next to, but they both look really, really happy. In fact, she’s sporting her fresh Grease brand on her upper chest, and proudly.
“What’d you wish for, sweetheart?” Paxton asks, his hand sliding around my back and waist as I stand up.
“It was really hard, because I have everything I could have ever wanted.” I smile looking up at him.
Mary-Anne takes the cake and starts to cut pieces, being the organized take-charge-mom, and I don’t mind one bit. I never could cut a cake proportionately anyway. Paxton’s hands slide down and cup my ass, squeezing it gently before he smooths down my lilac colored sundress.
“Nothing?” he asks, lifting a brow.
I shake my head as I smile. I literally have everything I want. He doesn’t realize it yet, that he’s given me the best gift I could imagine.
I’m six-weeks pregnant with his baby.
When I say that it’s been a tough six-months, it’s not just because of things that happened with the club—that including Soar continuing to stay in prison, officially, for the next three years—but also the fact that Paxton and I had miscarried.
I didn’t know it at the time, but I was pregnant when I had been taken by the Aryan’s. I miscarried a few weeks later. We’ll never really know if the mistreatment I’d suffered from them had anything to do with our loss, but of course we always speculated.
Now, I feel good. At six-weeks, I’ve already had an ultrasound, and I’ve seen the baby’s little heart beating. I even have a picture to show Pax. I know he’s going to be so excited, once he gets past being scared, which will be amplified because of the loss we’ve already experienced.
“How about something like this?” he asks as he brings up a small jewelry box and opens it for me.
I gasp when I see what’s inside. There, twinkling back at me, are LeVian Morganite drop earrings in a strawberry gold setting with vanilla diamonds surrounding the large teardrop peach stone. They complement my ring—not matching it precisely, but still complementing it nonetheless.
“They’re absolutely gorgeous,” I whisper.
I know that Lisandro has had a hand in this, not only because the box is from his store, but because he’s standing behind Paxton with a shit-eating grin on his face. I throw my arms around Paxton and press my lips against his, opening my mouth when I feel his tongue slide against my lips. I want so badly to tell him about the pregnancy, but I don’t. It needs to be something special just between us.
“Okay, a toast,” Ginger calls out.
Ginger stayed here, seeking a quiet life, but she’s had anything but since Paxton and the rest of the Devils rescued her. Snake didn’t take her being kidnapped and abused too well, like any man wouldn’t. He confessed his love, apologized for his stubbornness, and expected everything to go back the way it was.
Ginger stood up to him and stood her ground. She’d been hurt for months, and she needed time. Begrudgingly, and with the force of Sniper, MadDog, and Fury, he left. That doesn’t mean that he’s left her alone. He’s called every single day since he left her here in Shasta. Not only has he called, but he’s also sent a box of her favorite chocolates every single week. She’s teetering on the edge, and I think she’s about ready to fall back into him.
“To Cleo,” she continues. “The kindest, sweetest, most beautiful woman I have ever had the pleasure of knowing. Your sweetness drips out and touches every person you meet. You are truly a woman that I aspire to be like. Happy Birthday,” she whispers as she wipes a tear from her eye.
Everybody shouts their agreement and then takes a drink from their glass. A baby’s cry interrupts us, and I look over to see Mary-Anne has brought her baby out from MadDog’s office, where he has a crib set up. He’s so hands on.
It’s actually really surprising, considering his age. I, for one, thought that he’d make Mary do all of the work, but he doesn’t. Every time I’m around, he’s got the sweet little girl wrapped in his arms or cuddled against his big chest. It’s seriously swoon worthy.
I watch my woman. I’m sure she doesn’t even realize the way she’s looking at MadDog and Mary-Anne’s baby girl, Riley. I can see the pure want in her eyes. I wish I could give that to her right now. When we lost our own baby, I thought she’d get pregnant again immediately, but here we are five-months later, and nothin’. I know I’m being impatient, but it’s hard not to be when you watch the woman you love yearn for something.
“You ready to head home, sweetheart?” I ask a few hours later.
“Uh, yeah,” she says, scrunching her nose up as she turns to me.
I look past her and chuckle. I don’t judge my brothers and their relationships. Serina is marked, she’s Grease’s Old Lady, but that doesn’t mean that she’s only with Grease.
In fact, the reason Cleo’s nose is all scrunched is because Serina is bent over, one of the guys is fuckin’ her ass as she blows her Old Man. It ain’t my deal, but it works for them, so who am I to judge?
“You know they always put on a good show,” I chuckle as I wrap my arm around her shoulders and lead her outside.
It’s a warm night, and we’re on the bike. We’re only a few minutes from home, but it’s long enough we can feel the wind on our faces and the freedom singing past us in the air.
“You know,” she says, looking up to me. “They really do,” she smiles.
“Let’s get home, start our own private show,” I grunt.
“Okay,” she breathes as she follows behind me.
“Oh, shit,” she curses as she slams down on my cock and grinds her clit against my pelvis.
I bite my bottom lip, wanting nothing more than to come deep inside of her. Sliding my hands up her sides, I pinch her piercings and tug, harder than I should, but goddamn. Cleo moans and leans back, wrapping her hands around my thighs as she starts to really grind and roll her hips.
Fuck.
I’m going to die.
Moving one of my hands, I press my thumb against her clit and start to stroke her. If I don’t speed this up, I’ll be the one coming first, and I can’t let that happen on her birthday—or ever.
“Pax,” she breathes as she pushes against my thumb.
“Come, sweetheart,” I grind out.
Her legs start to tremble and then her pussy clamps down around me. I breathe out a sign of relief as she cries out. I wrap my hands around her waist and thrust up inside of her a few times before I follow her over the edge in my own climax.
“Oh, my god,” she whimpers as she falls forward, her chest pressing into mine with each breath she tries to catch.
“Happy Birthday, sweetheart,” I murmur against her hair.
“It is a happy birthday,” she announces as she lifts her head. My eyes catch the new earrings I bought her in the moonlight, and I grin, assuming that’s what she’s referencing. “I’m pregnant, Paxton.”
It takes a second for her words to register, and then I sit up and flip her onto her back as I loom over her. There’s a sly grin on her lips, and brightness shining in her eyes.
“Say it again,” I demand.
“I’m pregnant, Paxton,” she whispers.
“Fuckin’ shit,” I gasp before my lips crash against hers in a hard kiss.
Then I lift in a complete panic.
“Are you okay? Do you need to go to the hospital? What do you need?” I worry.
“I went to the doctor, everything is good. They’re going to keep a really close eye on me, but everything looks awesome right now. It’s still really, really early,” she whispers. I can see the worry etched in her features, even though she’s trying to hide it.
“I’m so happy. Worried, but happy,” I whisper as I lower my head so that our foreheads are touching.
“Me too,” she admits.
“I fuckin’ love you, sweetheart,” I rasp.
“I love you so, so much, Paxton. Thank you for the best birthday I could ever imagine.”