Free Mad Sea by K Webster

heart, is soaked. His black Metallica T-shirt sticks to his muscled torso, and I bite my lip to suppress the urge to attack him. Pregnancy makes me super horny we’ve learned. And this tiny baby, already growing in my belly, is no different than the last one. I jump him every chance I get.
    “What’s going on—oh!”
    Lene makes a splash. With her tail. “Fish!”
    My eyes meet Madden’s freaked out ones. Our baby has changed for the first time. Her pudgy little legs are now hidden beneath a cute sparkly green tail.
    “Fish!”—splash—“Fish!”—splash—“Fish!” Her giggles are too cute.
    I lean over the tub and ruffle her curls. “That’s right, baby. You’re a mermaid. Can you say mermaid?”
    “Mer-may!”
    “That’s right!”
    “And so it begins,” Madden say, stress straining his voice. “What if people find out? How will we protect her? If someone tries to take her, so help me I’ll put a bullet in their goddamn sk—”
    “We’ll protect her. Stop your fussing. Finish cleaning up downstairs and I’ll take care of it from here,” I instruct.
    All I get is a growl and a pop on my ass before he leaves.

    Several hours later, after Lene has gone to bed, I sit in Madden’s lap on the back patio. The sliding glass door is open so we can listen for our daughter. Tonight, the sky is clear and the ocean is rather calm. I inhale the salty sea air before sipping my steamy cup of honey tea.
    “Should we close the Pink Pelican? Move far away?” His hand grips my thigh and his entire body is tense.
    I couldn’t imagine closing our shop and moving elsewhere. My postcards and the wind chimes are popular at the gift shop, but it’s the frozen yogurt that allows us to pay the bills. This is our life. Our home. We’d be lost someplace else.
    “There are people everywhere, biker boy. We can’t run, nor should we. We’ll just have to teach her that she can’t go changing whenever she wants to. Nothing is going to happen to her. Besides, I thought you liked it here, Mr. Froyo.”
    He grunts, which makes me chuckle.
    “The frozen yogurt is your thing, not mine. I sell those wind chimes I make with Mom,” he tells me in a deep tone, as if to make himself sound manlier than he already is. “So technically, you’re the froyo girl.”
    I laugh. “No way. I’m not the one who goes through a gallon of the pink stuff all by himself every week. You’re totally Mr. Froyo.”
    “Yeah, yeah,” he finally admits and clinks his bottle to my mug. “Just don’t tell the boys.”
    Lying my head on his shoulder, I then lean forward and kiss his solid neck. “I don’t think Cass has any room to talk. He let Lene stick bows in his hair last time he came over. I think you’re good.”
    “Well Jagger would give me shit.”
    At this, I burst into a fit of giggles. “As I recall, Jagger has a Pink Pelican punch card. In fact, I think he comes in solely to see Becky. Hmmm,” I say with a smile and run my tongue along the flesh near his ear. “Sounds really familiar.”
    He groans, and I can tell he’s growing hard beneath me. So, I set my mug down and straddle him. His eyes twinkle in the moonlight with love and contentment. It’s such a beautiful sight. A sight I’ll never tire of seeing.
    “Ready to show me what a badass you are, Mr. Froyo?” I purr as I grind against his cock that’s trying desperately to escape his board shorts.
    He sets his beer down and then stands up with me in his arms. His full lips quirk up into a smug grin. “You just want me to lick you like I lick that spoon every day. You’re jealous.”
    “Maybe I am,” I admit with a wicked grin. “But I want you to lick me better.”
    His hands clutch my ass and he gives me a smoldering look. “You’ve always been my favorite treat, sea angel.”
    The next few minutes are a flurry of our clothes being torn off and then his ravenous licking and sucking. And he does lick me better than that damn spoon. As soon as I’m coming all