Merrily Yours (The Bardot Siblings)

Chapter 6

“Let’s be naughty and save Santa the trip.” — Gary Allen

Damn.

My wife is hot.

Seeing her pregnant is definitely addicting. I loved it the first time around with Elodie, and I love it even more now that I can watch her blossom in motherhood. She continuously amazes me. Growing a human inside you? I can’t imagine. Growing a human inside you while keeping up with the toddler terror? The woman deserves a medal.

Or an orgasm.

We are going ice skating with the family today, so the orgasm will have to wait. I would be lying if I said I hadn’t thought about taking my wife in her childhood bedroom though.

Focus, Anders . We have a little human that needs to get out the door.

I chase Elodie around with her snowsuit, which I realized was a mistake as soon as she started giggling. She’s decided we are playing a game of keep away from Daddy that has now turned into keep away from any adults. El was an early walker which has turned into a speed demon toddler.

“Elodie Elaine Bardot-Olsson! Get back here or we can’t go ice skating!” I call after her.

“Damn, that’s such a mouthful,” Gabe chimes in, rather unhelpfully.

“Language, Gabriel,” Bex scolds from the couch where she’s struggling to get her snow boots on.

“Damn! Skate-ing!” Elodie screeches from down the hall. Bex shoots daggers at Gabe who is trying desperately not to laugh.

I ignore them both and round the corner into the kitchen where I find Elodie sitting calmly on the counter. Elaine is next to her with a plate of powdered sugar donuts and a glass of chocolate milk. My mother-in-law gives me a look that seems to say Try me, so I just raise my hands in surrender and approach the scene slowly.

Elodie, now distracted by sugar, lets me put her pudgy little arms and legs into the snowsuit before zipping it up. “Doh-doh, Dada!” Elodie holds a donut up to my face, and I pretend to take a bite.

“Yummy, El! Delicious donut!”

“De-lis-is!” Elodie repeats. Bex waddles in holding tiny snow boots and thick socks. El wiggles her toes and giggles at her mom, her chocolate curls bouncing as she belly laughs.

“Anders! Distract her, please,” Bex requests.

I twist one of Bex’s curls around my finger and pull. “ Boing! ” I say, causing a full-blown cackle and enthusiastic clap from Elodie.

“More,” she says and signs at the same time, pushing both fists together. “More boing! ”

I do it again to Bex’s hair and then turn and do the same to Elodie’s hair.

Bex finishes putting on El’s socks and boots and then stands, watching us with her hand on her belly. “I swear if this baby doesn’t have red hair, I’m sending you back.”

“Me?!” I ask, incredulous. “You’re the one with the stronger DNA!”

She steps in, wrapping her arms around my waist before laying her chin on my chest. “You know I only married you so we could have red-headed children.” She raises an eyebrow and looks pointedly at Elodie, not a red hair in sight.

“Yes, darling. I’m so sorry to have failed you so egregiously. However can I make it up to you?” I tease.

“I’m sure I can think of a few ways.” She kisses my nose and then turns toward Elodie. “Okay, my cabbage. Let’s go ice skating!”

“Damn! Skate-ing!” Elodie says.

My arm shoots out, holding Bex back from pummeling Gabe. “I’ll take care of it,” I say. “You get loaded into the car.”

“Fine. But make sure to rip him a new one!” She shakes her fist for emphasis. Indignant Bex is fucking adorable.

I salute her and then start looking for Gabe.

I find him poking at the presents that are already under the Christmas tree. “Gabriel,” I chide, laughing as he nearly jumps out of his skin.

“Santa’s Snowballs!” he exclaims.

“Much better. Stop teaching my daughter bad words,” I say. “And if Bex asks, I really messed you up, okay?”

“Yeah, okay. Sorry about that. She’s talking so much more than the last time I saw her,” Gabe muses.

“She is half Bardot. You are a chatty bunch.”

Gabe huffs. “Don’t even think about blaming us—you’re the one who never shuts up.”

“Let's just say she comes by it honestly. You ready?”

He takes a deep breath, stretching side to side. “As I’ll ever be.”

Gabe seems a little solemn today so I ask, “Everything okay? Did you and Luci stay much later at Louie’s last night?”

“I don’t know man, I think?—”

“Anders!” Bex calls from the front door. “Grab some snacks, please! I’m already hungry!”

I slap Gabe on the shoulder. “I want to hear about it later, yeah?”

“Yeah.” He nods, sighing. “Yeah, let’s talk later.”

Bex has had a bag of goldfish, nachos, and hot chocolate from the concession stand, and half of my churro. I can see she’s fading fast, and both my girls are going to need a nap soon.

I skate over to the edge of the rink where Bex is leaning up against the boards. Planting a kiss on her forehead, I ask, “You still grumpy, Baby Bardot?”

Her brows furrow. “I’m not grumpy,” she protests. She’s so cute when she’s a little pissed. I take my glove off and push her pout up into a smile.

“You’re pouting.”

She pouts even more, which I didn’t know was possible.

“I just want to be out there with you and El! This is the first winter she’s been skating, and I can’t even go with you guys,” she moans.

I tuck a curl behind her ear. “It’s for your safety, baby.” I reach over and rub her belly. “For the safety of the baby, too. You’re like bambi on skates.”

“If you’re trying to make me feel better, it’s not working.”

“Okay, grumpy. I’m going to do one more lap with our daughter—you stay here and try not to make it obvious that you’re staring at my ass the whole time.”

She puts her head in her hand and sighs. “It’s a nice ass, though.”

I can’t argue with her, so instead I wink and skate over to Elaine and Hugo. They are bracketing Elodie, guiding her on her baby skates as she giggles up a storm. She’s such a happy baby, and I love that she gets to be a big sister.

I also love that I get to be a dad. I was so fucking terrified at first—I didn’t exactly have a great example to model my parenting after. Between the Bardots and friends that we’ve made in New York, Elodie is truly being raised by a village of people who love us.

Elodie looks up at me as I get closer. Her chubby cheeks are rosy, and her gummy smile melts my heart. “Dada! Damn, skate-ing!”

Elaine busts out laughing at my toddler even though she’s been saying those same two words the entire time we’ve been at the ice rink. “Yes, darling. Skating! You’re doing a great job.” I reach out and take her little mitten hands in mine. “Want to skate with Daddy?” I ask.

She nods enthusiastically in response to my question, and we take a slow lap around the ice. My quads are burning from skating backwards while bending down to her level, but it’s worth it to watch how much she loves being here.

“Wave to Mommy!” We skate past Bex who can’t decide if she wants to be grumpy or sentimental. Elodie lets go of my hand to wave but quickly loses balance. I scoop her up right before she falls on the ice and skate to the edge of the rink. “Alright, that’s enough of that. Should we get more food and then we can go home for a nap?”

“No nap!” Elodie says at the same time Bex says, “God, a nap sounds so nice.”

I look at Elodie and shrug. “Mom’s the boss.”

She pats me on the head. “Okay, Dada.”

Bex unties Elodie’s skates as I take mine off, and we walk over to the concession stand.

“Welcome back,” the woman manning the stand greets us.

“I’d like more nachos and a fresh hot chocolate… Let's do a pretzel, too.” Bex turns to me. “Do you want anything?”

“Oh, none of that is for me?” I ask, smiling at my pregnant wife.

“I’m growing a baby, killer. That’s all for me.” She contemplates for a moment. “I might share some of my pretzel with El.”

“I have another bottle in the bag for El,” I reply.

“Well then, it’s all for me.” She grins. “Are you ordering?”

I get my own nachos and drink, even though I know Bex won’t finish hers.

We find a picnic table with a view of the skating rink so we can watch the rest of the Bardot siblings make a fool of themselves as they race around the rink.

Bex pops a nacho in her mouth and chews—her thinking face tells me she’s trying to figure out how to say what’s on her mind.

“Spit it out, Baby Bardot.”

She looks at me quizzically. “My nachos?” she asks, her mouth still full.

“No, whatever it is you’re thinking about.”

“How do you know I’m thinking about something?”

I circle my finger around her face. “Because I know you. And that face means you’re thinking about something important.”

Said face scrunches up and then she sticks her tongue out at me. “I have some ideas for that tongue,” I whisper.

“Anders!” she laughs, and then finally says, “Okay, I was thinking about something… What if you’re disappointed?”

I’m confused. “Disappointed?”

“By the gender of the baby.”

I immediately get up and circle the table, pulling her in and tucking her head under my chin. “Oh, baby. How long have you been worried about this?”

“Since I found out.” Her words are muffled in my chest. I rub my hand up and down her back and then pull her away so I can look her in the eyes.

“Baby Bardot.” I take her face in my palms. “I could never be disappointed in something that you made.”

“We made,” she corrects.

“Even better.” I kiss her nose. “I will love this baby no matter what, because they’re a part of us.” I nod toward Elodie. “They are a part of this crazy little family we are building.”

“I just want them to have red hair,” she cries.

“Of course, baby.” I go back to soothing strokes up and down her back. I can see sleep heavy in her and Elodie’s eyes.

Bex takes two more bites of her food, and then she’s ready to go. I wave down Gabe and point to Bex’s unfinished nachos before nodding to the car.

We make it back to the house, curling up for a family nap in Bex’s childhood bedroom. I watch as my girls slowly drift off, mirror images of each other. My chest hurts as I’m overcome with gratitude. I rub at the ache, and then twine my fingers with my wife’s, slowly falling into a restful sleep.

Gabe’s Santa duties start tonight. Each member of the family gets to open one present on Christmas Eve. It’s not really a surprise though, because they always open up matching pajamas to wear to bed that night.

This year it seems as though we all get flannel pajama pants with a dancing reindeer pattern and a red long sleeve T-shirt with our names across the back. I pretend to act surprised when Gabe drops my present in my lap last.

He shrugs. “You were the last to join the family.”

“Technically, I think that was Elodie,” Jules chimes in.

“Obviously, El was going to be the first to get her present!” Gabe looks affronted, as if we personally wounded him.

“I’m fine being last,” I assure everyone. I tear the wrapping paper off my gift as everyone watches. The first item on top is a tiny red onesie that says “Baby Bardot” across the front. I glance at Bex—her eyes are already on mine, watching.

“You will always be my Baby Bardot, but I’m excited to add another one,” I tell her.

She smiles and nods toward the rest of the package. “There’s more.”

Obviously, my matching pajamas are in there as well, so I don’t know why everyone is watching me so intently. I pull out the pants and wrap them around my neck like a scarf which makes Elodie laugh.

Then I pull out the shirt, opening it to reveal my name across the back. But instead of my name, it says, “Girl Dad?” I ask.

I look around a little confused before landing on Bex. She has tears in her eyes, and she’s biting her lip. She rubs her belly and repeats, “Girl Dad.”

“It’s—” Holy shit . “It’s a girl?” I choke on the last word as a tear finally falls down Bex’s cheek. She nods again and my eyes begin to sting.

“It’s a girl!” Elaine screeches. “Oh, El, you get a baby sister!” She swoops down, picking up my daughter and hoisting her into the air. They do a celebratory dance around the living room, Elodie sitting happily on her LaLa’s hip.

“Sit-ter,” Elodie parrots, clapping and dancing even though she doesn’t truly understand what’s happening—she’s simply matching the joy she sees on everyone’s faces.

Jules hops up from his spot on the couch, calling over his shoulder, “This calls for celebratory sparkling cider.”

Hugo pulls down the fancy champagne glasses, pouring a glass of sparkling cider for all of us. Elodie even raises her bottle as we cheers the newest member of the family. I tug Bex under the mistletoe that Elaine has hung up in the door frame and kiss her senseless, her family whooping and laughing the whole time.

She pulls away breathless. “You aren’t disappointed? You wouldn’t prefer a boy?”

“Are you kidding? I get another mini-you.” I smile. “I couldn’t be happier, Bex,” I whisper, leaning down to nip at her earlobe. “I love you.”

Her eyes are shining again when she says, “I love you too, killer.”

Elodie has finally fallen asleep in her crib in the spare bedroom. She was wired, high on the excitement we all have about adding to the Bardot family. One of my favorite parts of being off work is singing lullabies to my daughter, so I didn’t mind the extra snuggles.

And now, I get to show my wife just how excited I am about being a girl dad—again. I quietly shut the door to the room Bex and I are sharing, laughing when Bex opens one eye and says, “Took you long enough.”

“El was extra snuggly tonight. I wasn’t going to pass that up,” I reply, sliding under the covers next to her.

“She’s a daddy’s girl, for sure.” Bex smiles and my hand finds hers, tangling with it under the thick quilt she has pulled up to her chin.

Her grin turns from sweet to wicked as she guides my hand to her hip. Her very naked hip. “I have something else for you,” she murmurs. Her eyes dart to my mouth as she licks her bottom lip.

“Rebecca,” I warn, knowing my stern tone gets her off. “What will I find if I take this blanket off?”

She bites the same bottom lip she was just licking and looks up at me through her thick lashes. “Why don’t you find out?” she challenges.

I hum, loving when she pushes my buttons just as much as she loves doing the pushing. My hand releases her hip and slowly tugs the quilt down. The first thing I see are Bex’s perky pregnancy tits— God, I love pregnancy tits —wrapped in a red silk bra. An underwire half-cup situation helps push them up, and a large ribbon looking thing is tied in a perfect bow across her nipples.

“Fuck me, Baby Bardot,” I groan.

“That’s the plan,” she brats, pushing up from where she was laying so she can prop one elbow on top of the pillows behind her. When she lays like this, the blanket slides down exposing part of her pregnant belly and places her nipples directly in line with my mouth. I can’t help but lean forward and lick one through the fabric bow, which grants me a pleased sound from my wife.

I continue to lick and suck at the skin of her cleavage as I inch the covers down to expose more of her. I realize her hip wasn’t naked like I originally thought, but instead, a thin strap wraps around it, leading to another bow right at the top of her ass.

“Where the fuck did you get this?” I ask, my eyes drinking in the sight of her laid out just for me.

She frowns slightly before answering. “I was feeling so frumpy last week when my stomach really started to pop. I feel so much bigger than I felt at this time with El.” I reach out and soothe the furrow in her brow.

“You know I think you’re beautiful,” I mutter, kissing the tip of her nose.

I can feel her eyes roll. “I know, but I wanted to feel beautiful. So I went down to that lingerie shop down the street from that Thai place we like and spent probably way too much money.” She shrugs. “It seemed like a good idea at the time.”

“Oh, it was”—I lick a line down her jaw—“a very”—a suck under her ear—“good idea." I punctuate my thought with a tug of her ear between my teeth. “Get on your knees,” I command, a soft whisper that makes her shiver.

“Yes, Daddy,” she replies, instantly making my cock harder.

She gets on all fours, presenting her ass to me like the present it is. I push her wild curls over her shoulder and trail my finger down her spine, until I get to the bow. I’m about to tug on it when Bex’s words stop me. “They’re crotchless,” she says, knowing eyes meeting mine over her shoulder.

Fuck, she’s sexy like this. It feels like the only time she actually listens to me, and I love the control she’s able to hand over. Only ever with me. Only ever with each other.

My finger continues its exploration, slipping between what I can now tell are two straps that open up for easy access to her delicious cunt. “How wet will you be if I slide my finger just a little… bit… further, baby?” I tease down as I ask, circling the pucker of her asshole.

She moans, arching her back and attempting to push back onto me. I tsk, lightly smacking her right ass cheek. “Patience, Baby Bardot. You know this,” I scold.

“Anders,” she begs. “Please, baby.”

I lean over, covering her back with my front. I’m still fully clothed up against her mostly naked body, and I’m loving every minute of it. I bite her exposed neck, and she rocks back into me again, grinding into my lap as much as she’s able to. “Tell me what you need,” I demand.

“You,” she replies. “Anything—everything.” She shakes her head, frustrated at the lack of friction.

“What did I say about patience?” I ask. “You know I’ll reward it. Be patient ,” I remind her.

She nods, dazed. My finger resumes its teasing, slipping through her slick folds and circling lazily at her entrance. “You are so good for me, baby. So wet and…” I thrust a finger into her, curling to hit the spot that makes her moan. “Tight,” I finish.

I sit back on my heels and watch as she rides my finger. “More,” she begs, dropping to her elbows. But I don’t listen. Instead, I continue my steady pace, watching as she gets more and more worked up. More and more agitated. More and more turned on.

I know my wife. I know what she likes. She might beg for more, faster, harder, but she loves to be toyed with and teased. She wants me to wring every last drop of pleasure out of her and that takes time.

She knows this.

I know this.

So I don’t give her more—yet—and instead, I continue pulsing in and out of her tight pussy, my other hand reaching up to lightly wrap around her neck. She fucking leans into my hand, applying more pressure to her throat, a quiet whimper slipping through. I add another finger to her cunt so I can stretch her for me and hold there for a moment.

I wait until she relaxes slightly and then smooth my left hand down her throat and over the top of her breast. She whines at the loss of contact around her neck, but I remind her, “We can only play so much, Baby Bardot.” I rub my hand down over her stomach. “I have to protect what’s mine,” I growl.

She sighs in understanding before muttering, “Fatherhood is making you soft.”

That earns her another slap to her ass. I push my fingers into her and then pull her up onto my lap so she can feel exactly how soft I am. “Soft, huh? How soft is my cock? I know you can feel exactly how ‘soft’ you make me,” I mock.

I can’t spank her again, so instead I reach down and pull the bow at the top of her ass, releasing swiftly, allowing it to snap back. I instantly feel her tighten around my fingers. “Fuck, you love that, don’t you? That bratty mouth loves when I punish it.” I think for half a second, making up my mind quickly. “On your knees. The floor this time.”

Bex moves quickly to the edge of the bed, getting down on her knees. Her curly hair halos around her head making her look like some sort of Christmas goddess. It sounds ridiculous but the red silk bow across her tits is begging for me to yank the fabric, unwrapping the ultimate gift.

My finger runs along the edge of her jaw and tips her chin up to me. Her soft lips part, releasing a quiet pant. “Ready to put that bratty mouth to good use?” I ask.

Her eyes darken, meeting mine as she nods enthusiastically.

“Good girl.” I unbutton my pants, standing. Her hands automatically come up to my waistband and she pulls down.

“You never wear any fucking underwear,” she laughs, abruptly stopping when my cock springs free.

“If that was truly an issue for you, I’d start wearing underwear.” She wraps her hand around my shaft and strokes until she gets to the bead of pre-cum at the tip. My next words are strained. “My guess, though, is that your perfect cunt is dripping from the sight of my cock in your hand. So I think…” I pretend to weigh my decision, and Bex responds by sticking her tongue out and licking my tip. “ Fuck . Yeah, I think I’ll keep making things easy for you to access.”

She grins wickedly up at me, pulling my pants the rest of the way off, and then gets to work. Bex used to be unsure in her movements when sucking me off, but she’s confident now. She wraps those plump lips around me, taking me deep into her mouth. Her hand wraps around the base, covering what her mouth can’t quite reach. She pumps up and down, her tongue pressing up against the underside as she sucks.

We both release a loud moan, and then our eyes instantly widen in tandem as we remember where we are. Bex doesn’t come off me but her eyes do crinkle at the corners in mirth.

“Something funny?” I grit out.

She does pop off then, a string of spit still connecting us together. She wipes her mouth and then says, “Did I ever tell you about the time Mom asked me if I knew how to pleasure you properly?”

“Fucking hell, Baby Bardot.”

She laughs again and then her smile turns coy. “Well… do I?” she asks, looking up at me with swollen lips and watery eyes.

“Nothing,” I start, cupping her cheek in my hand. “Nothing could ever bring me more pleasure than you do, Rebecca. You are the other half of my soul. My heart outside of my body. You, and you alone, bring me more pleasure than I have ever deserved.”

She blinks, registering my words. “Good answer,” she whispers. And suddenly, I don’t want her on her knees anymore.

“Come here, baby. Let me make love to you.” I stand her up, pulling her underwear off before I guide her back onto the bed. Leaning against the headboard, I settle her on my lap, loving the way she slides over my cock with her slick heat.

She reaches down to the hem of my shirt, and I lift my hands so she can remove it. Once I’m totally naked, I reach up and toy with the bow across her chest. “May I?” I ask, tugging lightly.

Bex nods once and I pull down, untying the bow and revealing her perfect breasts. She hisses as I suck one of her nipples into my mouth, my hand coming up to find the other. She reaches down between us and positions the head of my cock at her entrance. I let her slowly slide down, restraining myself even though I desperately want to piston up into her.

Once she’s slid down to the hilt, she leans down so her forehead touches mine. Her eyes are screwed shut and she whispers, “Feels so good. So full.”

“Take your time,” I whisper, leaning in even more to take her lips with mine. We kiss lazily as she gets comfortable. She slowly starts to move up and down, her tongue getting more desperate and possessive against mine as she goes.

Eventually, she moves faster, her tits bouncing beautifully for me. I tweak her nipple and move my other hand between her legs to circle her clit. That sends her head falling back in pleasure, exposing the column of her throat to me.

Keeping both my hands where they are, I also lean in and suck hard where her shoulder and neck meet. That causes Bex’s jaw to drop open, a whine slipping out. “I’m so close,” she whispers. “So, so close.”

I bite down and she explodes, waves of her orgasm crashing over her. “Look at me,” I command, and her eyes pop open. Her mouth is still wide in pleasure, and the fucking picture she paints sends me over the edge too. My thrusts become erratic, but I try to keep my thumb on her clit as her thighs vice grip around mine.

We continue moving through the aftershocks until neither of us can take it anymore, and Bex collapses against me, my dick growing softer inside of her.

I rub slow circles up and down her back, massaging the knots that have formed in her shoulders. She groans, kissing my neck, and I shudder. We sit there like that, soaking each other in until she gathers enough strength to waddle to the bathroom.

“Your cum is dripping down my leg, killer.”

I follow her into the bathroom, turning the shower on. “Sounds like we need to clean up,” I say.

She yawns but nods, stripping her bra off. I come up behind her, kissing across her shoulder and rubbing her belly. “My wife,” I murmur between kisses. “My baby.” I circle her stomach again.

“I love you,” she sighs, relaxing into me, a smile playing at the corners of her lips.

“I love you,” I reply.

Contentment washes over me, as it often does when I pause to take stock of our life together.

It stays with me through our shower together. It stays as we dress in our matching family pajamas and crawl into bed together. It stays as we kiss some more, wishing each other a Merry Christmas between kisses. It stays and stays and stays.

Contentment stays, and I know it always will. And for that, I will always be grateful for Bex, and Gabe, and this family that so quickly accepted me as one of their own.

Eventually, we both fall asleep, sated and exhausted and so incredibly happy.