Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 75683 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75683 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
“Maybe later,” I said, tossing a carrot toward Verb, who, luckily, only had one brain cell, and said brain cell could not think about food and his grandmothers at the same time.
“Oooh, you’re cooking,” Savannah said, placing the basket on the counter. “That smells amazing,” she declared, washing her hands, then coming up behind me, her arms going around my stomach, giving me a squeeze. “What are you making?”
“Ravioli,” I told her.
“My favorite,” she said as I stirred the sauce. “Should I be topless and on the counter right now?” she asked, throwing back to the last time I’d made her ravioli from scratch.
“Always,” I said, and she pulled away.
I expected a laugh.
But when I heard silence, my head turned, finding her stripping out of her dress, letting it fall to the floor, leaving her in nothing but her panties.
Her head tilted, giving me a sexy little smile.
“How long do we have?” she asked.
I didn’t give a fuck if the sauce burned.
I didn’t care if the entire fucking house burned down.
I turned, reaching out, dragging her against me, sealing my lips to hers.
Our hands were hungry then, touching, grabbing, pinching.
My fingers dragged down her panties, and my fingers were inside of her, driving her up, getting her ready for me even as her hand toyed with me through my pants before freeing my cock.
Then I was inside of her, fucking her against the counter, bringing her up and through an orgasm once, twice, before her tightening walls were dragging my own climax out of me, leaving us panting, bodies close.
“Stir the sauce,” she murmured, giving me a soft, sex-sated smile.
“In a minute,” I said, reaching into my pocket.
Was it maybe a bit unconventional to propose to a woman after fucking her in the kitchen while cooking her dinner, with your cock still buried inside of her?
Yeah.
But, somehow, it was right.
My hand went into my pocket, pulling out the pale yellow canary diamond ring, and holding it out to her.
“Yes.”
“I’m supposed to ask first,” I said, giving her a smile.
“Oh, right. Okay,” she said, shaking her hair out a little. “I’m ready to be asked.”
“Will you—“
“Yes.”
We didn’t drag out the engagement.
Savannah wanted a wedding in the summer, surrounded by nature. Her original plan was in our backyard until my mother gently reminded her that the Grassi crew simply wouldn’t all fit.
We’d agreed to have it at Massimo’s vineyard instead, since the place was full of gorgeous flowers.
There’d been a bunch of flower girls and boys, since Savannah and Sunshine didn’t subscribe to the idea of flowers being a female thing only. And Verb had been the ring bearer. Who had caught sight of a rabbit or a bird or, hell, his own freaking shadow for all we knew, and had taken off at a dead run, leading to half a dozen suit-wearing mafia members chasing the fucking Golden Retriever all over the venue until someone got him on a leash, and led him down to us, so we could finally seal the deal.
And so we did.
Surrounded by sunflowers and family and more love than either of us could have ever seen coming.
We’d gotten right to work on the whole ‘expanding the family’ thing that weekend, tucked away in the safe suite sweet simply because it brought back good memories.
Savannah - 10 years
“Mommy!” a little voice shrieked, making me look up from nursing my youngest on the back porch.
Nino and I, we’d really worked hard on the next generation thing. I was pretty sure we’d put the entire family to shame with how quickly we started bringing little babies into our lives.
What can I say? We really liked the process of making the babies. Getting a present from those acts nine months later was just an added perk.
As it was, we had five.
Eight, almost six, just turned four, two, and the little three month old at my chest.
We’d never settled on our final number, but we both seemed to be pretty content with the five we had. If we wanted too many more, we were going to need to expand the house.
Even as I thought that, though, the four older kids came crashing up the back steps, all black hair and green eyes with my mom’s megawatt smiles, and I thought… Oh, maybe just one more.
“What do you have there?” I asked, seeing our eldest with cupped hands.
At that, little fingers opened, and there was a bright green Praying Mantis standing there. If insects could look miffed, this one certainly did.
“Verb was trying to play with it,” I was told. “So we saved it.”
Oh, my sweet, gentle children.
I mean, make no mistakes, they were children. Young ones. So they were also rough and tumble and loud and impossible. But they had a soft spot for nature, for all creatures great and small.
I loved how they’d taken to the outdoors, spending their days making up games, playing in the mud, exploring plant and insect life. Did that mean that they had once all come down with nearly head-to-toe poison ivy? Yes, yes it did. Did it also mean that there was just an absolutely endless pile of laundry to be done? Absolutely.