Total pages in book: 30
Estimated words: 27299 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 136(@200wpm)___ 109(@250wpm)___ 91(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 27299 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 136(@200wpm)___ 109(@250wpm)___ 91(@300wpm)
“I felt it wasn’t mom-like.” She gives a small shrug. I let my hands drift over her bare back. She’s always so soft. I’ll never get enough of this. Touching her alone means so much to me.
“Rose, I don’t care what color your hair is. You’ll always be the perfect mom no matter what color your hair is.” It’s silly for her to think otherwise. The woman is supermom.
“Or that it stains our sheets and towels,” she adds with a smile. It does in fact do that.
“That’s just shit we can replace.” I slip the onesie off her shoulders, letting it fall to her waist. “Fucking hell, you’re beautiful.” I don’t know how I got so lucky to have found her. I think my parents sent her my way knowing she was what I needed. She really is something special. Different from all the rest. Rare.
“You want to stay in?” She leans back, putting her hands on the floor. Her tits bounce and her small baby bump is on full display. I know I’m not going anywhere now. I’m going to have my fill of her. We won’t be leaving this room all night.
“All I ever want to do is be with you, Rosabelle. It’s all I’ll ever need.” She gives me a smile. No more tears from my girl. I lift her, taking her over toward our bed and laying her out not just for my taking but to worship her like she deserves.
Epilogue
Rosabelle
Five years later…
“I think these yoga pants are cutting off circulation in my body.” I pull at the top of the pants. These used to be my favorite ones. This is the first time I’ve been in them in almost a year. I’m bound and determined to make them fit and that isn’t going to happen at home. Not with a husband like mine around.
“But yoga pants are stretchy.” Rie tugs on the waist of my pants. It’s clear they are too tight. The small muffin top I’m rocking gives that away. I should have put a shirt on over my sports bra to hide it, but this is what I normally work out in. That said, I normally work out at home. I don’t care what I wear when I’m there. Blaze built a gym in our basement, but the problem is I can’t ever actually work out in it. Whenever I try to he shows up two seconds later with his hands all over me. Or I forget I’m working out and start watching him lift weights and then I’ll be all over him. Nope. If I’m getting this baby weight off, I need to go out to a gym that my husband isn’t at.
“Apparently these are stretched as far as they can go.” I give the yoga pants another yank, trying to pull them up more. “Why are we even here?” I glare at my best friend who can pop out a baby and you can’t tell two days later. I’d want to punch her for it if I didn’t love her so much. I have no clue why she wanted to tag along with me to the gym.
“Thought I could talk you into getting a milkshake instead.” She shrugs, pointing across the street to an ice cream shop. I know she’s dead serious. She dressed the part to go work out, but I should have known better. Rie only runs if she’s running late or to catch a moving food truck. I grab her hand, using the other to push open the door to the gym. She lets out a long sigh, following me in to the front counter. Two pretty girls stand from behind the counter. They both look like they could be fitness models. They are even in full makeup, their hair perfect.
“Hi!” I say, trying to keep a smile on my face when I really want to fidget because I feel out of place now.
“Can we help you ladies?” one of them asks.
“It smells like testosterone in here.” Rie scrunches her nose. “And not in a good way.” I elbow her in the side. I glance over to where she’s looking. Three fourths of the people working out are men. Heck, that number might be higher.
“Have you been here before?” the other girl asks, pulling my attention back to them.
“No. I was hoping to check the place out,” I answer. She hands both Rie and me a clipboard.
“Sign these and we’ll give you a day pass to check the place out.” We both sign the forms, handing them back before allowing us to head on in. I wander in, a little lost, not sure where to start.
Weights bang and crash, and I let out a surprised scream and jump. Several men turn to look at us. If I didn’t see two other women working out, I’d swear this was an all-male gym. Those two women are lifting weights I’d never dream of trying myself. I can see every inch of their muscles as they strain and push. I’m feeling more and more out of place by the second.