Dad drives fast, hazards on. He calls Dr. Burden and tells her that we’re incoming.
I look down at the little sleeping face. I’m chuffed. I delivered my own fucking baby. And he’s the most beautiful thing in the world.
My father’s phone rings. It’s Mom.
“Right on cue,” Dad gushes, “She said her motherly instincts were itching … and that it meant something bad was gonna happen, so she sent me there to check up on you.”
“Bless those motherly instincts,” Mel giggles. “I hope I get some of those now.”
“Hi darling,” Dad answers his phone as we pull up to the emergency department.
“I’m going to have to call you back.”
Dr. Burden and the pediatric doctor, whose name I can’t remember now, are waiting outside with a stretcher and some nurses.
“After everything that little bean put me through, he didn’t even wait for me to be present at the delivery,” Dr. Burden jokes as they push Mel inside. I hand my son over to the pediatrician as Mel gets pushed into a separate room to make sure everything is alright with her.
Thank the Lord, it’s over. I never want to go through that again. My phone rings – it’s the groom.
“Hi, Enrique, dude,” I answer hesitantly. “I think you better sit down.”
Date = 1 September (about 1 year later)
Place = San Francisco (Grimm house)
Melaena Blackburn = 21 years old
Damion Grimm = 22 years old
Xamos = 1 year old (born 15 August the previous year)
(You get to meet the little girls Leyla, Lili, and River in Book 2)
(Ethan is Thalia’s little 10 year old brother)
POV Damion
Damion: I’m sure that from lack of use, my sperm grew legs and looks like frogs instead of tadpoles! But it’s gonna be fixed before the night is over (winking-face emoji)(hot-pepper emoji)(eggplant emoji)
I touch my crotch with a groan, abstinence from Mel is definitely not my thing. These last weeks have been torture, being in bed next to the woman of my dreams, and the closest I got to touch her was a hug. Fuck, a day without sex with Mel is a fudging long time, two weeks is a fudging excruciating fierce eternity … a month … that’s just plain torturing hell.
These four weeks without sex were even worse than the six I had to wait after the baby was born.
This no-sex shit before the wedding was her idea … all hers. And I didn’t agree to it, but it’s not as if I had a choice in the matter. She said she wanted to surprise me on our wedding day. It better be one hell of a fucking surprise.
My dick stirs at the forecast of ripping off her clothes and moves into a full-blown hardon when I look at the photo she sends me as her answer. She’s fudging with me, the devious little witch, but I keep staring at the picture of her feet, her toenails painted in a checkered flag pattern. Damn, my soon-to-be wife. Even her fudging feet turn me on.
Damion: You make my balls so blue – sure this maltreatment is sexual abuse!
This time her answer is a photo of her butt, covered only by the skimpy white string of her undergarment running between her cheeks … showing off the same skull logo as mine, tattooed on her right tush.
Mel: Surprise!
Fuck … when did that happen? I drop the phone on the bed with a smile and turn to look at my image in the mirror.
So that’s why she didn’t want me to see her naked. She got a fucking tattoo.
And yeah … it’s a pretty darn sexy surprise.
I can’t wait to see that ink up close and personal. Lick it maybe. What my little soon-to-be-wife does not know is that I’m going to fuck her every place and second possible on our upcoming honeymoon. And if she returns knocked up again I would not mind a bit.
As long as the next one stays put until we reach a hospital.
Dressed in a tux over a black T-shirt, the single white orchid on my chest breaks the darkness like an angel. The dubious fact that I’m getting married is still sinking in. Me? Damion fuck … fudging Grimm getting married – it’s a laughable matter.
The badboy, man-whore biker who got knocked on his ass by his best friend’s little sister – knocked hard like a fudging wrecking ball.
Shoved back, knocked out, red-flagged – and I wouldn’t change it even if I could.
Why would I? This is it, the moment I’ve been waiting for for what seems forever, probably since I was 10.
Fuck, who knew that I would walk into a haunted house and meet an angel, one that would fight my demons – one by one – fixing a once broken boy to turn him into a man … a father. I pick up the paper lying on the table and look at it with a huge smile – my new rules, set up by the love of my life.
Rule 1: Fall in love with your best friend’s sister over and over again.
Rule 2: Control is overrated.
Rule 3: Always know what you’re fighting for.
Rule 4: Fear your wife – always.
Rule 5: No matter who starts the fight – it should always end in bed (angry sex)
Rule 6: Always fuck and never leave – your space is ours now.
Rule 7: No protection necessary.
Rule 8: Your wife should catch you with your pants down all the time.