Riding Chrome
Boomer and Rayce
AMAZING. INCREDIBLE. UNBELIEVABLE. PHENOMENAL.
I strolled into Chrome and Steele, whistling, frickin’ grinning.
Lucy looked up from her desk, snapping her perpetual gum. “Good day, boss?”
“Every day’s a good day.”
“You know I’m all for optimism, but to be honest, I kind of miss broody old Boomer.”
If I were immature, like Brodie, I’d have flipped the middle finger at her. Instead I just whistled louder, heading to my office.
She giggled, snapping her gum more ferociously while she went through the stack of mail sitting on her desk.
An hour later, Brodie busted into my office, wiping his oil-stained fingers on a rag.
I was still whistling under my breath, inputting numbers into financial files.
“How’s the wifey?” He slumped into the other chair, slamming his feet onto my desk.
I pushed his boots off. “Fan-fucking-tastic.” My broad grin testimony to that fact.
“Reeeeallly? No issues? No ups and downs? No weird moods at all?”
My glance slid to his, and I chewed on the side of my mouth. “Fine. She keeps waking me up all hours of the night with the oddest requests. Like I have to go rearrange the furniture right now or she’ll never go back to sleep. Or yesterday, Rayce made me go up to that goddamn superstore in North Charleston with a new list of things we need. Oh, and, here’s a kicker, last week she almost put my Topkick up for sale, claiming it’s not safe enough. I mean, seriously, my truck? It’s a fucking tank.”
“Mm hmm.”
“That’s all you got for me? Mm hmm?” I curled my lips. “You suck.”
“Listen, brah, the only thing you have to say is yes.”
“Because she’s pregnant?” Elbows on my desk, I leaned forward.
“Mostly, yeah. But basically just because she’s your wife, and a pregnant wife is like being married to a schizophrenic. And . . . twins . . . so, double whammy there.”
Twins.
Amazing. Incredible. Wild. And intense.
Rayce and I were expecting twin baby girls.
Phenomenal.
“So, even when she wants me to iron the burp cloths?”
“Yep.”
“And when she makes me help her color coordinate all the outfits?”
“Mm hmm.”
“When she made me put thebump.com app on my phone?”
“Roger that.” Brodie pulled out a stick of gum he must’ve stolen from Lucy and stuffed it into his grinning mouth. “And especially when she makes you sterilize all the bottles like five times in a row.”
“Really?”
“Guaranteed. Just say yes. I mean, don’t sell the Topkick or anything off-the-wall like that, but tell her yes, and she’ll move onto something else the next day.” The grinning buffoon was totally enjoying himself at my expense. “Only, don’t agree with anything she says about her body. Dude, that is a no-no.”
“Oh, I already figured that one out.” The time when Rayce complained about her cankles and I offered to massage her feet and she started crying—my badass Rayce crying?—and saying she didn’t want my hands on her because she was so fat she was a whale.
“Was Ashe like this with Roxy?”
“Worse.”
“How’d you survive?”
“Lots of sex because she was supremely horny.”
A goofy, possibly sex-crazed look must’ve crossed my face because Brodie said, “Oh yeah. That’s what I’m talkin’ about. Boobs, right?” He lifted his hands like he was squeezing a pair. “Big bazongas. Bet you wanna motorboat those funbags.”
That was Brodie, subtle as a sledgehammer.
My eyebrows arched high. “Please don’t call my wife’s breasts bazongas. In fact, don’t even refer to my wife’s anatomy . . . ever.”
Brodie was absolutely right. Rayce had always complained she was top-heavy—something I certainly didn’t have a problem with—and the pregnancy had just given me more to play with. Not that I’d admit it to the loudmouth. Rayce would kick my ass if she found out. Hell, I should probably kick Brodie’s ass.
My cellphone jingling delayed the ass-kicking, and I answered while Brodie made more obscene gestures.
As soon as I heard Stone’s voice, I sat up straighter. “What’s going on?”
Rayce—heavily pregnant with our twins—continued to work at the garage. Just another thing I’d had to agree with. But at least I had all the dudes there watching her back, and Josh was extra-vigilant as her boss and my in-house spy.
“You better get down here. She was complaining to Ray about her back aching, and he told me, and I finally got her off her feet. Stubborn woman,” he grumbled.
“Be there in ten.” I was already out the door of my office, Brodie tailing me.
“What’s going on?”
“Not sure yet. Stone said something about Rayce and a backache and that I better come get her.” My heart pounded in my chest.
Sweat broke out on my temples.
“Should I come?”
“Nah. Man the fort. Stay by the phone.” I slapped him on the shoulder.
His eyes popped wide. “This could be it, right?”
I took a deep shuddering breath, nodding, then he grabbed me into a bone-crusher of a hug.
When he released me, he shoved me away. “What the fuck you standing here for? Get going.”
I showed up at Stone’s Auto Body seven minutes later, not ten, on a tear, nearly frantic.
“Where is she?” I bellowed at Ray.
He thumbed back toward Josh’s office. And when I got there Josh and the rest of the dudes were all standing around like shits in a barrel.
“Did anyone call the OB?” I demanded.
Josh raised his hand.
“And?”
“Boomer?” Rayce called out from her prone position on the couch . . . the same couch I’d found her on so long ago after her dad—or rather the man she’d thought was her dad—had laid into her.
“Ugh. I’m dying.” She groaned when I kneeled beside her.
Her blue-streaked hair had grown out because she wouldn’t risk getting it dyed while she was pregnant. And even though she complained, she still glowed, but that didn’t make me any less worried.
My hands roamed gently over her belly. “What is it?”
“Josh called you?” she snapped. “It’s just heartburn. And my back really hurts. And I keep getting these cramps.”
Cupping her face, I came close to swearing. “So basically you’re in labor.”
Jesus Christ. Stubborn woman working until the very last second.
I glared at the other men. Gerald looked like he was about to pass out. Josh shrugged like I did my best, she’s all yours now. Mick looked like he wanted to puke. And Javier looked like he wanted to plan another extravagant baby shower because he just couldn’t wait to meet the twins.
I hated them all.
“It’s too early. They’re not due for another three weeks,” Rayce complained.
“Too early?” Eyebrows up to my hairline, I peered at her in disbelief. “You’re having twins, princess. The doc said this could happen.”
“I’m in labor?”
“How does she not know she’s in labor?” Ray peeked his head inside. At least he looked like he knew what he was talking about.
“She has a high pain-threshold.” I growled. “All right, princess, let’s get you up and into the truck.”
“I told you to sell that damn truck. It’s a safety hazard.” She winced when I helped her to her feet, swollen cankles and all.
Gerald had the unfortunate instinct to snort.
“What’s your problem?” She slammed him with a glinting hazel glare.
“Nothin’.” The man held his hands up nonthreateningly.
“Because it’s a pickup,” Rayce started where she’d left off about the Topkick.
“Okay. I’ll do it tomorrow,” I assured her, remembering what Brodie had said. “And then we’ll get a Volvo like Ashe’s.” Not.
“Good. Okay.”
Mick tried to suck his smirk back inside his mouth.
Josh hid a chuckle behind a cough.
Fuckers.
I lifted her in my arms, and Ray groaned audibly, the second one to earn a fierce glare.
He backed way away from me as I carried Rayce from the office.
“You don’t need to carry me, old man. Don’t need you having a heart attack on me right now.”
And that time, Josh didn’t hold back his loud laugh.
“Don’t you dare make fun of my husband!” Rayce hollered at the man who signed her paychecks.
I bit down on the smile growing across my lips. I figured the fastest possible route to East Cooper hospital as I strode from the building, all the dudes following.
At the truck, I shot back, “Call—”
“Everybody?” Stone asked.
“Everyone.”
“Got it, chief.” He saluted with two fingers.
Rayce griped as I helped her into the Topkick, newly outfitted with two infant car seats. “I do not want the whole world, Brodie, the flipping MC, everyone at work seeing my—”
“No one’s gonna see your—”
“Cookie,” she said when I leaned over to clasp the seatbelt closed.
“Cookie?” Laughing, I nearly hit the headliner when I jerked up.
“With babies—plural—coming out of it.”
Shaking my head—cookie?—I shut her door, rounded the hood, took my seat.
“Cookie?” I asked, starting the engine and sliding it into gear. “Since when are we calling your pretty pussy a cookie?”
“Since little human beings are coming out of someplace no one but you should ever see. And not like that.” She huffed, cupping the big round mound of her belly while I eased onto 17. “You’re gonna see my cookie. You should’ve had sex with me last night because I’m probably never going to let you back inside.”
On the road, relieved we’d chosen East Cooper instead of MUSC downtown so I didn’t have to drive very far—my hands were shaking, my legs were shaking, my nerves definitely shaken—but I cut a smirk her way. “Not sure I wanna if you’re gonna keep callin’ it a cookie.”
“I call bullshit on that one.”
“You got me.”
We laughed, and I squeezed her hand until she sucked in a breath only to let it out with a pained moan.
“Contraction?” I checked the time on the clock.
“Is that what it is?”
“Does it hurt like a bitch and you were just being bolshie?”
“Why are you breaking out the big words now?”
“Ballsy.”
“Pretty much.” Her wince relaxed and she blew out a breath.
Yep. There was my maverick woman. Brave and ballsy even in childbirth.
In the maternity ward, we were steered into a private suite. Rayce was efficiently undressed, her vitals taken, some kind of heartbeat monitor strapped around the beautiful dome of her belly, and a blood pressure thing clipped to one of her fingers.
“Phoebe Steele?” An OB nurse dressed in pink scrubs entered the room.
“Call me Rayce, please.”
“Rayce it is. So, twins?”
Rayce nodded, one hand falling to her stomach, which was stretched tight as a drum.
“Exciting.” The nurse held her hand out to me, checking her clipboard. “Harold Steele?”
Rayce let out a ferocious laugh while my cheeks heated.
“Call me Boomer, please.”
The nurse smiled before squirting Rayce’s abdomen with warmed gel, guiding the ultrasound thingie over it.
She pointed to the monitor, freezing the picture. “Ah, there she is. Baby A. Good strong heartbeat and in perfect position, Momma.”
Rayce’s hand flew to her mouth, and tears filled her eyes. I knuckled beneath mine, squeezing her hand once more.
The nurse shifted the wand for a different angle. “Baby B! Wonderful. You know these two are going to be bickering for years over who was born first?”
I could do nothing but nod, clasping Rayce’s hand while the nurse swiped the gel off her belly.
“How far apart are contractions?” Nurse chick looked at me.
“Near as I can tell about fifteen minutes, but that’s not exactly accurate because my wife here didn’t think she was in labor already.”
Rayce threw a glare in my direction.
“That’s totally normal. But it sounds like you’re making excellent progress, Rayce. Doctor McGrath will be down in a few minutes to do an internal.”
“Are you scared?” Rayce’s fingers lingered on my face as soon as Nurse exited.
“Yes.” I kissed her palm, sitting beside her.
“Nervous?”
“Definitely.” No lie.
“Can I do this?”
I moved down, sliding a warm slow kiss across her lips, holding hands across her tummy. “Fuck yes.”
She beamed at me until another contraction hit. The force ruling her body was intense, and frightening as fuck. Her face twisted. Her belly seemed to heave up. Her teeth gritted.
“Breathe, princess,” I reminded her, wiping strands of dampened hair from her forehead.
Her lips parted, and she panted in short exhalations.
Doc McGrath stuck her head inside then entered, smile on her face. She checked the monitors while Rayce’s contraction wound down.
She greeted us both, said some words I didn’t compute. I was too busy with ice chips and a damp washcloth and making sure Rayce was okay.
The doc snapped on gloves, situated herself between Rayce’s thighs and explored down below. “Big day, huh?”
Rayce laughed. “Something like that.”
“You two ready to be parents?” Looking up, McGrath winked.
“Definitely,” I said.
“Not sure.” Rayce’s face screwed up.
“So, Rayce”—the doc, who’d been the OB since the beginning of this journey and was an old hat when it came to the delivery of twins, stripped off her gloves after the internal—“when we discussed it before, you said you didn’t want an epidural—”
“That was stupid. I want all the drugs. All of ’em.” Rayce’s fingers twisted the sheets in a white-knuckled grip.
Thank God for small mercies.
McGrath stepped into the hall to call for the anesthetist then came back inside. “She’ll be here in two minutes. I know everything is progressing rapidly, but that’s a good thing. You are perfect. Healthy. And the girls are just fantastic.”
A frown of worry crossed Rayce’s brow, deepening when another contraction made her scream.
I’d only ever heard her scream once before.
This was nothing like that time. Nothing. Because then she’d been nearly killed by the man she thought was her father, and this time . . . this time it was about giving life.
Didn’t make me feel any better, though, about the pain I knew she was enduring.
When her water broke, my heart really started pounding, loud enough I wondered if anyone else could hear it.
This. Is. Happening.
The epidural was inserted shortly afterward, affording her almost-immediate relief.
I chugged in a deep breath and took just one moment to check my phone. A million and a half voicemails and twice as many texts had flooded in.
The waiting room had to be overcapacity.
“I don’t get why this is happening so fast. It’s my first time. It’s supposed to go more slowly. I read all the books, and . . .”
The doctor waited patiently as Rayce rambled on and on.
“Well, the babies are ready. Your body is ready, Rayce.” She calmly soothed because she probably dealt with cra-cra mothers-to-be hourly.
“Can we stop it?”
“No. Your cervix is engaged, and it’s time.” McGrath patted Rayce’s shoulder.
“But the house isn’t ready.” She turned a wild look on me.
“It’s ready. Nursery all set. Two cribs, two pack n’ plays, top-of-the-line double stroller . . .”
“We didn’t baby-proof yet.”
“We don’t have to worry about that until they start gettin’ around.”
“I’m not ready!” Rayce shouted, nearly levitating off the bed.
Kneeling beside her, I kissed her lips and eased her back against the pillows. I held her gorgeous hazel gaze, now wild with fear.
“I’m gonna be right here with you through it all.”
“What if everything goes wrong?”
“Nothing will go wrong.”
“Promise me.”
“I promise, princess. It’s time for the joy now.”
She’d been through so much—beaten, raped, abused—there was no way anything could go wrong today.
Rayce deserved this.
Her smile collapsed. “Don’t call me princess!” She grunted-screamed through another intensifying contraction.
“I thought the epidural was supposed to make her feel better.” I sent a worried look to McGrath, her sympathetic eyes visible below the cap.
“It’s time. And she has to push.” Reaching up from her position between Rayce’s raised legs, she gripped her hand. “You ready now?”
Rayce curled up, her high-threshold cracking.
Hell, I was cracking.
“Baby A is presenting first.” McGrath’s lips hovered in an encouraging smile.
My heart clenched hard.
“She’s crowning . . . beautiful, Rayce. Just beautiful. That’s it, keep bearing down.”
“Ruby.” Rayce gasped.
I nodded, voice caught. Sliding behind her back, I held her up, a giant tear slipping down my cheek, my hands around hers, letting her use me to push.
Then the weird calm—that wasn’t really calm at all—took over. The strength that was the core of Rayce overwhelmed me.
It happened in an instant, the sudden relief sweeping from her belly to her hands to her face as she relaxed against me.
Then I heard a high-pitched cry that launched my heart right into the atmosphere.
“Here’s Ruby!” McGrath held up a pink-faced, pink-limbed baby, who cried as if she had a definite point to make, face pinched . . . and so fucking beautiful.
“Go to her.” Rayce turned her head, a whole mess of tears rolling down her cheeks.
I kissed them away, but mine mingled with hers. “I don’t wanna leave you.”
After handing Ruby to the nurse, McGrath turned back around. “It’s okay, Daddy. Baby B—”
“Monroe,” I spoke through a thick throat.
“Seems she was racing Ruby to the finish line because she’s right here. You stay put.”
I curled around Rayce, propping her up again, whispering in her ear, “You are fucking amazing.”
“Now, one big last push, Rayce, and we got her.”
Another rush hit me, and I almost passed out from the feeling thundering through my chest as I captured Rayce’s salty lips in a kiss. Monroe, alive, perfect, screaming just like her older sister.
Beautiful.
Astounding.
Awesome.
Unreal.
Pure joy.
“Oh my God, Boomer!” Rayce’s voice shook when McGrath handed her Ruby—cleaned up but still squawking.
Our little daughter quieted immediately, so pink, so new, so ours.
I couldn’t even . . . couldn’t even speak. I hugged Rayce against my chest, careful of the baby—our baby—between us. And when a Monroe-made bundle was passed to me, I broke down completely.
Rayce cradled Ruby in her arms . . . holding her skin to skin.
We just . . . reveled in it. The feeling so right. Completely overwhelming.
“Swap?” Rayce rubbed her face against my shoulder, looking up at me.
“Swapsies.”
“Um, how are we supposed to tell Ruby and Monroe apart?”
Oh shit.
Both of them were basically the same size. Tiny. Same hair. Damp black curls. Same eye color, murky, but that was supposed to change.
Identical.
“Keep the hospital bracelets on them?” I offered, putting my nose against Ruby’s neck. They even smelled the same.
“Very fashionable.” Even tired, having given birth to two babies, Rayce’s wit was on fire.
We lay together, the babies snuggled between us, knowing they’d have to be taken at least for a few minutes for proper checkups and shit.
But none of that mattered when so much life had happened all at once.
“Where is everyone?” Rayce asked.
“Don’t worry, they’re in the waiting room. No one saw your cookie.”
Her soft smile warmed me inside out. “Is Tucker here?”
“Yep. Him and Gigi. Stone and the grease monkeys. The MC. Brodie. Cat. Ashe. Nick. Sadie and JB . . . all of everybody.”
“Can Tucker and Gigi come in?”
“After you cover up a bit.” I winked, holding both our girls while the nurse adjusted a fresh easy-open gown on Rayce.
The sheets had been changed. The ultrasound taken out. Two clear plastic baby carts with blankets wheeled in when Tucker and Gigi appeared.
“Oh my!” Gigi’s eyes widened, shiny with tears. “Congratulations!”
I watched Tucker come closer, his throat bobbing, his mustache twitching, his hands quaking.
“Which one is which?”
“This little lady here is Ruby.” I propped her up higher. “Wanna hold her?”
“Can I?”
“’Course, Granddaddy.”
His smile trembled when he took Ruby into his arms. Gigi wept silently, holding Monroe and cooing at her. I sat beside Rayce, arm around her, struck again by a wave of indescribable emotion.
“Little miracles, aren’t they?” He leaned over to get a better look at Monroe, too.
“Exactly that,” I said, heart once again lodged in my throat.
They didn’t stay long, although I could tell Tucker wanted to set up camp for as long as he could. But Gigi seemed to get it—Rayce needed her rest, and we needed time alone with the girls.
I sent a text to Brodie so he could wrangle everyone for a viewing through the nursery window when I took the twins for their big checkup.
Sure enough, everyone was waiting, phones poised for photos, grins all over the place, and a lot of teary eyes, too. Sadie and JB. Brodie and Ashe. Cat and Nick. Josh with Leelee. All the garage dudes. The whole MC posse.
“Those are my nieces!” Brodie boasted.
“My nieces.” Cat knocked her hip against his, swiping fingers beneath her eyes then kissing Nick.
“Hey, which one is which?” Josh asked the question everyone wanted answered.
Me included.
Luckily the plastic baby carts had little nametags on them so when I held Monroe in my right arm and Ruby in my left, I was pretty sure I identified them correctly.
Then Ruby started squawking. Monroe let out a noisy wail. And I imagined a whole lot of chaos would now be part of daily life . . . I could hardly wait to get started.
****
The next day, after I went home to shave, shower, change, and feed Shitlock the cat, I returned to the hospital the long way around. I stopped in at a jewelry shop and ordered two incredibly tiny, hypoallergenic, platinum charm bracelets. The charms were pink Harleys and miniature dirtbikes—and the tags read Monroe and Ruby, engraved in cursive.
Rayce watched while I fiddled with the tiniest of tiny clasps, hanging them on each girl’s diaper bag for the journey home, much more fiddly than all the car seat buckles when I’d carefully put the girls in their portable rides.
“Need a little help?” she asked, clearly amused.
“Got it.” I frowned then remembered Monroe was watching me with those big eyes, and I winked at her.
God. They were so beautiful they took my breath away. Couldn’t believe Rayce and I had made them.
“Done.” I stood up, clapping my hands together.
“Very clever.” Rayce appraised.
I rapped a knuckle against my forehead. “Brains and beauty.”
She smiled, but that smile faded when we left the hospital. She held Monroe balanced on her lap, and I carried Ruby while pushing the requisite wheelchair.
I’d already loaded the Topkick with all the balloons and flowers and yet more presents. Now I loaded the pickup with tremendously more precious cargo.
With everyone situated, after I’d checked the car seats about fifty more times, I started the engine, glanced at Rayce. “What’s wrong?”
“I don’t understand how they can just let us take these babies from the hospital.”
I snorted, pulling out onto the road after checking left then right then left again. “They didn’t just let us take babies, Rayce. Ruby and Monroe are our daughters.”
“But we don’t have nurses at home.”
Good point. Yet I was confident we’d figure it out. Together.
****
I’d been right about the chaos.
But during one quiet moment later that day, while the twins crashed out close by in their cushiony bouncy seats, I pulled Rayce down with me onto the couch and into the circle of my arms.
We watched the two sleeping beauties—their cheeks pink, mouths tiny rosebuds, the longest eyelashes imaginable, matching pink Retribution MC knit caps covering the dark hair.
Rayce glanced at me then back at our daughters. “I did it.”
“You sure did.” Lifting her face to mine, I took her lips in a slow, body-tingling kiss. “You were incredible. You are incredible.”
“Why aren’t you calling me princess anymore?”
“What?” I pulled back a little.
“I can’t remember the last time you called me princess.”
“Uh. You told me not to.” I rubbed the scratchy stubble on my jaw.
“I did?” Her nose wrinkled.
“When you were screaming at me, during one of the contractions.” I winked at her.
“Ohhhhh. Right. I was a straight-up bitch, huh?”
“You were . . . are . . . perfect, princess.” Wrapping her more completely against me, I tasted her with another of those slow burning kisses.
And later still, there were innumerable crying bouts and diaper changes and Shitlock the cat—we’d have to start calling him Sherlock soon—roamed around, bewildered, meowing louder then I’d ever heard before.
I’d tossed two shirts into the overflowing hamper due to spit-up then decided to forget about wearing a shirt altogether. Skin on skin was supposed to be better for bonding anyway, and it didn’t look like Rayce and I were ever gonna get a chance to sleep again, let alone do basic things like eat or shower . . . or wash laundry.
Later . . . Rayce blinked bleary eyes at me. She sprawled across the bed, half on and half off my bare chest. Someone was crying. Again.
“Can you hand me Monroe?” Rayce murmured, pointing to one of the babies-in-a-bouncy seat that had traveled with us to the bedroom.
“That’s Ruby.” I stood from the bed, stretching then crouching in front of Little Miss Red Face who looked mad enough to launch herself right out of the chair.
Had no idea how she’d freed herself from the tightly swaddled blanket, but her tiny arms and legs flailed around unfettered.
I quickly unbuckled her, hoping to quiet her before she woke her snoozing sister.
“I’m pretty sure that’s Monroe,” Rayce insisted.
“No, it’s Ruby.”
I think I know one of my daughters from the other.
Rayce had settled higher in the bed, in breastfeeding position, pillows all around. “Check the hospital bracelet.”
I did, and goddammit, she was right.
I laid Monroe gently in Rayce’s arms, kissing her on her plump cheek, amazed at how good she smelled, how soft she was. “Here’s Momma, little darlin’.”
And later . . . again . . .
I wasn’t sure what time it was anymore. Nighttime, because it was dark outside, but that was about it. Rayce had showered while I’d taken Baby Watch and managed to rustle some grub together.
I’d showered, almost falling asleep standing beneath the hot spray, lathering all over.
“Should we put them in their cribs?” Rayce asked when I dug around the dresser for a pair of gym shorts to put on.
I usually slept naked. But that would be A. difficult, no matter how exhausted I was, knowing I couldn’t fuck Rayce, and B. just weird when I’d probably be up and down with Monroe and Ruby all night.
“No.” I tugged up the shorts, amazed the twins were still asleep.
Half an hour.
Must’ve been a record.
“But—” Rayce started.
“Just for tonight. Or maybe a lot of nights. For now. I’m bringing the cot-thingies—”
“Pack n’ plays—”
“In here.”
“Okay, Daddy.”
Later, I couldn’t even be sure it was the same day anymore.
“Boomer! Are you asleep?” Rayce twisted one of my nipples.
I sprung wide awake. “What? Wait? Huh?” Where am I?
Oh . . . babies. Twins. Daughters.
“She’s hungry.”
“Which one?” I tugged on my discarded shorts—guess I’d kicked them off in my sleep after all—blinking my blurry eyes.
“Ruby.”
“How do you know that?” I turned on the bedside lamp, looking across at Rayce who’d already popped a breast from her tank top.
“Her cry pitches up at the end like a 195cc bike.”
I checked the portable cribs in our room, and—yep—Ruby it was.
I lifted her up and quickly exchanged a dirty diaper for a clean one, wrapping her like a hoagie in a blanket. The perfect little—loud—sweetie latched onto Rayce’s nipple like a ravenous animal, and Rayce yelped.
“Hurts?” I asked, lying beside them.
“Just a shock, really. And it’s kind of full and tingly when I can feel the milk coming in.”
“Looks full. You must have plenty of milk.” I grinned, getting turned on—of course—by the luscious sight of her tits, heavy and round, the nipples larger and redder than before.
Rayce laughed huskily and tossed a well-aimed pillow at my head.
And later, it must’ve been nearing dawn . . .
Rayce was dead to the world, sleeping, plumb wiped out. I’d covered her with a blanket and shuffled from the bedroom, closing the door behind me. With Ruby in one arm and Monroe in the other, I walked the length of the upstairs hallway, back and forth, back and forth. They stared at me with dark somber eyes, Monroe sucking the side of her curled fist, Ruby making some seriously funny faces.
Sometimes I sang to them. Sometimes I talked to them, my voice low, telling them about their family, and their amazing mom, and how long I’d waited for them, two beautiful daughters.
****
Then everyone descended on the house the next day. It was time for the Sip n’ See. Per thebump.com. Dammit.
My eyes were so tired I squinted perpetually.
Rayce wore a permanent frown.
More presents arrived, which meant I had to breakdown more freakin’ cardboard for recycling day.
About two hours in—me close to snoring, Rayce close to tearing heads off people like a hungry T-Rex—Gigi huffed out a disgusted sound.
She stood up, all of five-foot-nothing. Silver-haired and shrill-voiced. She clapped her hands together, glanced at Tucker, and he whistled long and loud.
Sure as hell woke me up from my snooze.
“Listen up, y’all!” Gigi took the grandma gig seriously, and I was happy to have her in our corner. “Git the hell out and let Rayce and Boomer do some parenting and bonding on their own.”
“But—” Brodie cut in.
“Don’t you but me, boy.” She wagged a finger under his nose. “I get it. He’s your brother. They’re your nieces. But for Lord’s sake, how much sleep do you think they got last night? And y’all up in here expectin’ to be entertained? You should be ashamed of yourselves. They are the parents of two new babies.”
Brodie’s brows beetled. He shuffled his feet.
Told.
“Here’s how it’s gonna work.”
“Tucker. C’mon,” Brodie wheedled.
“You think I call the shots in this marriage? Please. You take Ashe’s orders, right?”
Suitably shutdown, Brodie clamped his lips together.
I watched, yawning, pulling Rayce into the lee of my arms.
“What? What’s happenin’?” she asked like she’d just woken from a coma.
“Shhh. I think Gigi’s kicking everyone out.”
Rayce burrowed closer. “Awesome. Where are the girls?”
“Sleeping.”
“Why aren’t we sleeping? Because we’re supposed to sleep when they sleep.”
“Wait for it.”
Drill Sergeant Grandma went full bulldog-mode. “Brodie and Ashe, you deliver dinner, and I’m not just talking about today. Put Nicky and Cat on rotation too. This starts now, Monday-Wednesday-Friday, for the next six weeks. Retribution boys—”
Hunter, Bo, Cole, Kinkaid etc. scowled at the term boys.
Gigi didn’t give a shit. “Breakfast duty. Each of you pick a day. Six weeks. Monday-Wednesday-Friday.”
“But I’m not even awake at—”
Tail cuffed Kinkaid on the back of the head. “Shut it.”
Nice work.
Rounding on Josh, Gerald, Leelee, and the rest, Gigi toed up to her six-foot-something son, undaunted. “Y’all got lunch duty. That means real food, not takeout, and Joshy, you will not make Leelee cook to cover for you when it’s your turn.”
“Jeez, Ma,” the huge mechanic bleated.
“And if you bring presents, get rid of all the damn plastic ties and the damn cardboard and do the damn assembly yourselves.”
“Word,” I said.
“Can we sleep now?” Rayce asked.
“Gigi? Can we sleep now?”
She covered us with a blanket, tucked pillows beneath our heads. “Got milk ready for Ruby and Monroe?”
I waved a hand toward the kitchen. “In there. And bottles. Diapers. But Rayce’ll have to pump if she doesn’t . . .”
Zzzzzzzz . . .
I woke later when my phone’s alarm went off and discovered Rayce draped across me.
There was a message from Tucker:
We fed the girls. Bathed them. Put them down for a nap. Probably time for you to get up. Food is in the kitchen. Monitors right by your head. We took care of the recycling bins. Oh, and thanks for making me a granddaddy again.
I gave a giant sigh of release, feeling . . . refreshed. Lying there, listening to the silence, I stroked a hand up and down Rayce’s back.
She roused slowly, face nuzzling deeper into my neck. Then she popped up with a sudden groan, arms crossed over her chest.
“Oh shit! I’m leaking.”
“That’s fine,” I shrugged. With boobs so big I figured leaking was to be expected.
“Through my bra and my top . . . and your shirt.”
I fingered the double damp patches on my T-shirt. “Okay.”
“But I don’t have any clean clothes!” she hissed.
“Cat did the laundry.”
“When?”
“I think when we were sleeping? She snuck back in?” I vaguely remembered someone coming in, tiptoeing around. “It’s all folded right there. But if you wanna go topless I’m game.”
And then . . . days later, finding our feet together.
****
I took six weeks off, and Rayce had gone back to work after eight weeks at home. Josh had been generous with the maternity leave A. because he knew what being a new parent was all about, and B. probably because Gigi and Leelee would’ve had his balls otherwise.
Once she returned to Stone’s, working a shorter week, I managed both Ruby and Monroe at Chrome and Steele. It wasn’t hard, what with Lucy, Brodie, all the dudes and about half their women lurking around just for a chance to smother the twins with attention and affection.
I met Rayce at Stone’s at lunchtime with our babies so she could get in another good round of breastfeeding from the source—Stone’s office strictly off-limits during those time.
Tandem breastfeeding was nothing but a tease. I wanted two mouths so I could suckle from her.
Ruby and Monroe’s eyes gradually shifted to the same ice blue color as mine. No doubt about it, with Rayce’s hair and my eyes, they were gonna be stunners. We could finally tell them apart without checking the hospital bracelets, which came off after a week. Monroe was slightly plumper and she had a definite dimple in her left cheek. Ruby was louder, and she had a habit of scrunching her nose just like Rayce did when she was thinking hard. Their deep baby belly chuckles were identically infectious.
We’d figured out Monroe and Ruby slept better when they shared a crib, and we’d moved them from our bedroom to the nursery. It was cute, walking in there in the morning—or at midnight—to see them babbling at each other, and I wondered what was going on in their baby brains.
We had a routine. Everything was less frantic, survive-by-the-seat-of-your-pants chaotic. Every day was a new treasure, but I really needed to fuck my wife.
It was a Friday afternoon. I’d taken the day off to spend with Rayce and the girls at home. I was the boss after all; I could do whatever I wanted. And I wanted to be with my family.
“Hurry!” Rayce grabbed my arm.
I’d just stepped out of the shower, rubbing my hair dry and thinking about what to make for dinner because the kitchen was the one place Rayce couldn’t cook.
“Something wrong with the girls?” I switched into full panic mode immediately.
“They’re fine. They’re perfect. They’re quiet. We have an hour, tops, while they’re both napping.” Stepping back into the bedroom, she started tearing off her clothes dizzyingly fast.
“But I thought you said I was never getting inside your cookie again.” I dropped the towel in my hand to the floor, the other still hitched around my waist.
“Boomer Steele, get your big cock out.” She halted with her jeans pulled halfway down her legs. “And stop calling my pussy a cookie.”
I would’ve laughed but suddenly I was nearly voiceless, and the towel tented obscenely at groin level. “Yes, ma’am, Princess Phoebe, ma’am.”
I was more than ready to jump her bones.
Unfortunately she got all tangled up in the legs of her jeans and fell onto her rump, big tits bouncing, a laugh tumbling out of her. A laugh that ended when I shed the towel. My cock jutted up, thoroughly rigid. Harder than ever.
Rayce’s gaze roamed from the ink covering my arms to my cut abs and stopped and stuck on the thick cock rising from my pubes and already dripping precome around the twin dydoe piercing.
At her lusty stare, I pounced on her. I yanked off her pants, panties, everything that stood in the way of me and her bare skin and voluptuous body. I pulled her up into my arms and tossed her onto the bed, following right after with my mouth landing on hers.
The twist of tongues and lick of lips and deep-deep-dragging-drugging kisses made it hard for me to even consider taking my time. But then I heard her smoky whimper, and I felt her swollen nipples that’d fixated me for so many weeks. I could’ve gone blind watching her breastfeed our daughters.
Grunting, I moved from her lips to her neck to the upper mounds. Peppering her with kisses, leaving her skin glistening, I followed the high curves to those goddamn sexy nipples. Tender nipples I wanted to devour but had to be careful with. I lapped the buds instead of biting and sucking and pulling on them. I caressed calloused fingertips over them, entranced when Rayce gasped my name.
She arched, clasping my head to her. Twisted her hips beneath me. Trapped me in heavenly hot flesh.
With another lick to a straining peak, I trailed a hand down her belly. “Do you need lube or something this time?”
“Why, Boomer Steele.” Her hand curled around my heavily erect cock. “Have you been doing research on post pregnancy sex?”
“Ummm, yeah?”
“Cute.” She smirked.
I looked pointedly down to where she gripped my throbbing flesh.
Her lips curled into a sultry smile, and she stroked all the way to the broad crown, toying with the piercing there. I groaned, head cranking back, hips thrusting forward.
“Lube could work, but I can think of a better way to make sure I’m wet enough.”
Ka-ching.
“I’m totally on board with that.” Releasing her hand from my cock, I traveled slowly down the length of her body
“Wait!” She pressed a hand over her mound. “Are you sure you want to go down there?”
“Down here?” I pried her fingers free, laid her hand aside, urged her thighs open. “Down here, with my mouth, all over your pretty pussy?”
She nodded, eyes wide.
I took one long lick up her slit, grunting at finally getting a taste of her again. “Oh yeah. Fuck, princess.”
Her eyes drifted shut, a moan curling from her lips when I spread her further open and ate her softly, slowly at first. Just remembering her flavor, her heat, how soft and sexy she was. I dipped my tongue inside, groaning. Eyes closed, I buried my face in her, taking the time to relearn all the places she loved to be touched most. And when I finally rolled my tongue up to her clit, I had to hold her hips down while her legs clamped beside my head.
She came, crying out my name, and I rode her way over the edge, sparking two climaxes in a row.
Only her cursing pulled me away from her cunt.
“Oh shit!” She cupped both tits in her hands. “Apparently having an orgasm triggers the milk.”
“Happy to take care of that too.” I crawled up her body.
“Boomer, no.”
Too late.
Moving her hands away, I attacked. Both nipples were wet, and the milk didn’t just come out in drops. It sprayed, warm and sweet.
Finally, I sucked her deep with a guttural groan stuck in the back of my throat. She tossed her head back, moaning. My cock nestled on her wet pussy, and my lips ran from one nipple to the other, swallowing a new taste I had nothing to compare to, but goddamn it turned me on.
When I pressed up on my hands, angling my cock to her cunt, her tits shined wetly. Not the only place she was wet.
“Don’t think we’ll be needing that lube,” I murmured hoarsely.
“Hurry, Boomer!”
“Because we’re on the clock?” I teased her, slapping the engorged head against her sensitive clit.
“Because I need you.” Her fingers gripped my ass, trying to draw me into her.
Primed. Ready. Rock hard.
“Tell me if it hurts.” I resisted just one second longer.
“Imma hurt you if you don’t fuck—”
I roared, seating my cock inside with one slow plunge even though I wanted to ram senselessly into her.
“Okay?” I stopped, balls resting against her ass, dick pulsing with more blood, and I could feel my heartbeat through it, her cunt wrapped around me.
“Forgot how big you are.” Her cheeks were bright, her lips swollen, her eyes half-mast.
She gasped as I pulled out, then I rooted back inside, faster and harder because I needed her so much.
“I’m . . . I’m not gonna last.” My nads felt triggered already.
“Good.” Rayce’s hands climbed to my shoulders, and she met each powerful thrust with a kick of her hips. “Me either.”
Her breasts brushed the hair on my chest, and I felt it—more milk spilling out. That was what spun me right out of my mind and completely into my body, completely into her. My ass flexed, and her eyes flashed, and she clamped down on me from within.
“Holy fuck.” Teeth gritted, jaw tight, every muscle locked, I pumped faster, harder.
The release excruciating. Ecstatic. Overwhelming.
Exploding.
She gasped, clawing at me, and her voice blended with mine when she came as soon as the first jet of come unloaded deep, deep inside her.
When I could breathe again, my exhale came out with a ragged chuckle.
I bent my forehead to Rayce’s, heart strumming, cock not softening, and her pussy kept pulsating around me.
“One hell of a fucking ride, princess,” I murmured against her lips, laughing low when she swept her hands down my sweaty back to my rump, clutching me inside her.
“That’s one way of putting it.” She kissed my neck, my chin, my ear. “I missed this.”
“Bet I missed it more.”
“I doubt that.”
“But your cookie is just so addictive.”
She whacked me, no strength behind the punch to my ribs. “I love you, old man.”
I rolled my eyes, then rolled us over so she was on top of me and I didn’t crush her. “Love you too, princess.”
I kissed the tip of her nose, the place where her thick eyelashes fell against her cheeks, the top of one tit. “S’pose I better get you cleaned up.”
“You did make a mess.”
“You loved it.”
“Not disagreeing.” She smiled, eyes still shut.
I got up, stretched with pure satisfied male pleasure, then picked up the towels and her clothes and dropped them into the hamper. In the bathroom, I wet a washcloth and returned to swipe down Rayce’s chest—taking one beaded nipple between my lips just because—and cleaned between her legs while she gave a sexy hiss and a twist of her hips.
Baby babbling noises started on the monitor.
“You probably better cover that thing up.” Rayce pointed at my cock, still hard, ever-fuckin’-hard for her.
I dragged on some old jeans and passed her a pair of shorts and one of my old Ts she’d lopped off at the arms and neck, making it faster to snatch a boob out so she could stick a nipple in Ruby or Monroe’s mouth.
Easy access and all that. I wasn’t complaining.
Ambling across the hall, I peeked into the girls’ nursery then stepped inside. Yup, definitely awake. Ruby was gurgling away, and Monroe chirping back at her. Had no idea what they talked about in baby-speak, but I wished I did.
“Okay. Who’s Miss Stinky today?” I leaned over the crib.
Monroe had her hands free from the swaddle—again—and was waving them in the air like Me! Me!
I sniffed at her. Sniffed at Ruby. Wrinkled my nose because double whammy.
I still couldn’t get over how small their bottoms were compared to how big the blowouts were. Insane. Like it shouldn’t be physically possible. I got both changed and cleaned up, noted the Diaper Genie was full—again—and carried the bundles of love back to the bedroom.
“Figured I’d get them before they started kicking off.” I set Monroe and Ruby in the center of the bed then climbed onboard.
Rayce kissed them both, sweet-talking them and holding out squishy toys.
Who would’ve thought it? My kickass motocross queen/wench wrench mechanic a mom, a damn amazing mom who’d been through such shit and who loved more profoundly than anyone I’d ever met.
“They are so loved, aren’t they?” Rayce looked up at me, a rare tear slipping unchecked down her cheek.
“They’re not the only ones.” I drew her to me, kissing her deeply, and captured her hand against my heart.
The bigger they are, the harder they fall. Ain’t that the damn truth?