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“We are so proud of you.” Sylvia fans her face as Taylor dabs at her eyes with a tissue. “Seriously, B, how are you Wonder Woman? Pregnant, kicking ass, volunteering all while establishing this?”
“Not to mention eloping,” Taylor adds on, both of them still bitter that they weren’t invited to the wedding and didn’t even know it was happening until after the fact. In our defense, nobody did.
We ran off to Hawaii, getting married on a gorgeous cliff in Kauai surrounded only by nature. It was breathtaking and exactly what we wanted. No paparazzi, no stressful plans. We got to enjoy it for what it was, the beautiful union of our lives coming together.
“I know, I know, but you’ll be there when this little one is born,” I say, encircling my belly. “Oh, she kicked.” I laugh and Beckham darts his hand down to feel it.
Since finding out we were pregnant, he has been beyond excited. He confessed to me the shame he felt when he went with Venus to the doctor and felt nothing. We both talked through his feelings, and I managed to help him realize it’s okay, because it wasn’t his daughter and it wasn’t the right person.
When we first found out I was pregnant, he initially panicked, worried he’d be the same way but the second he heard the heartbeat, he was a different man. Since then, his world is me and his unborn daughter.
“Sweetie, you were fantastic up there. I don’t know what you were nervous about.” My dad pulls me into his arms and hugs me tightly. “Your mother was smiling down on you; I could feel it, we all could.”
“Thanks, Daddy.”
“How’s my little granddaughter doing? She was a star up there too.”
“She’s good, been moving around a lot today.”
“Hey, Beckham, you see that bastard Mitchell Reardon is here?” My dad rolls his eyes, thumbing over his shoulder to where Mitchell is standing next to Miles Davenport. “Can you believe that piece of shit knocked up Venus?” He shakes his head.
“Better him than me.” Beckham laughs, draping an arm around my dad’s shoulders.
The day we went over and spoke to my father together, you could say all hell broke loose. There were threats, yelling, and at one point my dad threw a brandy snifter at Beckham’s head. But after Chantelle took him to his study and chewed him a new asshole, he came out ready to be more civil.
To say things just fell into place would be a lie. It took weeks and even months before they could golf together again without my dad either walking off the course halfway through or Beckham coming home with bent and broken clubs. But we stayed at it, showing my dad that we were serious about each other. That our love wasn’t going anywhere and after a while, it just wasn’t an issue anymore.
My dad realized that we were happy and eventually apologized for some of his outbursts, telling me that the only thing he really cared about was that I was happy. Weirdly, through it all, somehow, Beckham and my dad became even closer and the second we told my family we were expecting, my dad became the doting, emotional grandpa who shows up with toys and clothes by the handfuls every weekend.
“You ready to go shake hands and kiss asses for a few hours?”
I laugh and take Beckham’s hand as we step inside and do exactly that.
“My feet are killing me,” I whisper in his ear as I pop off one heel behind a high-top table and rub my toes.
“Why don’t we get out of here. You’ve put in the time; everyone can handle it without you, baby.” Beckham stands behind me, his lips at my ear and his hands on my now fuller hips.
“I feel bad,” I moan as I lean against him.
“I can make you feel so much better though.” He presses himself against me.
“Don’t tease me,” I say as my nipples harden beneath my dress. Since about day three of my second trimester, I’ve been insatiable. I’m talking four times a night and still fantasizing about my husband every other second of the day.
“I’m not teasing you, sweetheart. The moment I get you home I’m going to worship your body. How does a nice warm foot soak and massage sound?”
“Before or after?”
He chuckles, that low throaty type that I can feel in his chest.
“Are you feeling achy?” He runs his nose up my neck, his fingertips gripping me a little tighter as we look out over the crowd. “Needy for something?”
“Mm-hmm, something long and hard.” I press my ass against him, wriggling it a little.
“Behave yourself, Mrs. Archer.”
“I thought you liked when I disobeyed?” I reach around to grip his firm cock and he whimpers.
“Don’t think I won’t punish you just because you’re pregnant, sweetheart. I have no issue teaching you a lesson in obedience with that riding crop again.”
