Moving through the house and out the back, Jake carefully sits Jasper next to Jasmine and then runs inside and whips up some scrambled eggs for the adults and grabs some baby food for the twins. Their birth came exactly, to the day, on what would have corresponded with me getting pregnant that night I lost my innocence, and gained these two adorable bundles of joy in return…and so much more.
I swear the man’s addicted to cast iron skillets right now and being that he’s a jeweler and into hard stone and things of that nature, I know it’s not a fad. I’m not complaining one bit though. Just when I thought the man couldn’t have any more skills than he already does, now he’s attempting to master the kitchen.
But all that really matters is that he’s already mastered my heart.
I reach down and give Ramsay a good rub under his neck, smiling at his collar which Jake made as soon as we got here to Colorado. Of course, it says, “Jake and Jewel’s Best Bud, Aside from Each other,” underneath the stone he embedded in the collar.
What can I say, the man is possessive about everything in his life…especially us.
He’s been talking about homeschooling the kids since before they were born and Jasmine not dating until she’s forty-one. Jake says if it worked for him why can’t it work for her. Of course, when I remind him that he married me at eighteen he stutters and expresses his displeasure.
I don’t mind though, because it gives me a chance to get bratty and I always know what’s going to happen after that.
Despite having twins, and a dog, and a mom we need to keep an eye on, just in case, Jake seems to have an endless supply of energy, and shall we say…enthusiasm…for me still.
He worships the ground I walk on and my body equally as much.
“I added some avocado and cooked them in butter. It’s healthier,” he says as I dig in.
“Um, these are so darn good,” I say, wishing my fork was a snow shovel so I could pile the eggs in at an even faster rate. “But isn’t butter and avocado filled with fat?”
“The healthy kind. Eat up,” he says, not missing a beat.
“Jake, I’ve gained ten pounds since we got here.”
“Good. That’s ten less to go. Now eat, little girl, before Daddy comes over there and feeds you…or spanks you first.”
“I like the sound of both of those ideas,” I say, before pausing. “But honestly. You don’t think I’m getting too big?”
“Too big?” he stops, his normally good manners suddenly lacking as his mouth falls open with food in it. If he’s responding this way I absolutely know he thinks I’m crazy.
“Woman, you need more weight…lots more. I’ve got things I want to do to you you couldn’t even dream of. I’m just waiting until your body is ready to take the punishment.”
“Birthstone. Birthstone. Birthstone,” I tease, yelling out the safe word I still haven’t had to use yet. Jake is so attentive and really understands me. He knows when to push, both in the way we play sexually, and in life, but he also knows he can bend me, but he never pushes so hard it breaks me.
And do I ever appreciate the pushes. Without him I never would have branched off and started my own Etsy store, designing and making handmade chokers for women with a
, shall we say, a similar lifestyle that we have.
Everything is personalized and I spend a lot of time with clients before, during, and after the purchase. I know what it’s like being with a possessive man from my own firsthand experience. And I want to make sure we get the collars and chokers right, so when those possessive men from around the world buy from us, they have the kind of good experience putting their hands on their claimed women the first time they’re wearing our products, as Jake and I do with the things we design for that part of our own intimate lives.
Not that there’s any separation from intimacy and everyday life.
That’s what I’ve come to really understand. Being Jake’s little isn’t something I can turn off and on anymore, nor would I ever want to. Sure, there are times we play and times we’re adults, but we live this life of trust, respect, and revel in the various types of fulfillment we give each other twenty-four hours a day seven days a week.
It’s who we are. It’s what makes us tick. And it makes our lives just as magical as my favorite Disney movies, which I know I’ll be watching this afternoon. Most likely One Hundred and One Dalmatians.
“Daddy, can we get a new puppy for the twins? For Ramsay to have a friend?” I beg, turning my bottom lip up.
“Are you sure it’s not because mommy wants one, little girl?”
“Maybe!” I say, my face turning into a big smile.
“Just be honest with Daddy then. Try again.”
“Daddy?”
“Yes, honey.”