Taste of Violet

ZACH

Dr. Andrew Bartley is a man full of himself. He’s poking and prodding at Violet’s stomach, acting like he’s an expert. But is he really?

He’s humming to himself, probably to fill the silence in the room. It’s grating on my nerves.

“Your uterus seems to be shrinking well. How has the milk been coming in?” he asks.

It’s been coming in wonderfully good, thick and sweet enough to coat my tongue and leave an aftertaste that has me craving more. And I’ll definitely have more.

“Literally streaming out,” she says, turning to Callum and me with a smile on her beautiful face. And it was, streaming out last night in the shower, like a fountain from her nipples in multiple directions.

I thought it was a waste, so I bent down and took one of her swollen breasts in my mouth. Callum watched as he washed himself, but soon joined me, taking the other in his mouth. We both suckled her breasts.

My hands expertly brought her to orgasm soon after. To my surprise, I still like breast milk. It was sticky and sweet, nothing like cow’s milk.

The fact that the taste was unique to Violet made it all the more personal.

Just thinking about last night makes me hard. In fact, I’m hard all the time recently. I’ve gotten so used to having sex around the clock that the one time I’ve had with Tyler, in this last week, just isn’t enough.

I want her, want them. All of us. The nightly foursome that we’ve become used to.

It’s like my own brand of drug that I’m starting to crave due to withdrawals.

“And how about sex?” the doctor asks, looking pointedly at me. I smirk at him.

It’s like he can read my mind…or see my arousal.

“We’re waiting…for the six weeks to be up,” Violet says shyly, and he nods his head. She’s waiting.

That doesn’t mean the three of us will. We have each other, until she’s ready again. Then she’ll be taken harder, faster, deeper than we’ve ever taken her before because I know the other two are suffering just as much as I am.

“Everything seems to be going swimmingly. How is the bleeding?”

“Like a light period now.”

“That’s wonderful. It will probably stop within a week or so,” he tells her, and she nods, taking Ella from Tyler’s hands.

She fusses instantly, turning right into Violet’s breasts.

It’s like she’s hardwired to sniff them out and wants them instantly. I’m inclined to do the same thing.

I watch the doctor watch her latch Ella on.

She does it seamlessly, mostly hidden by the fabric of her long top. And we can all hear Ella noisily nuzzle down the milk once it starts flowing… I can’t blame her, it tastes divine.

The doctor smiles, nodding his head as if he’s happy with her technique before he turns back to his paperwork again.

“So she’ll be needing an injection today because she was born at home, meaning she never had it the day she was born. My receptionist will give you appointments for the rest of them when you leave. Is it okay to do it now while she’s breastfeeding? They tend to stay calmer that way.” Violet nods dubiously, and the doctor produces a drawn syringe from the fridge on the countertop to our left.

“She might cry a little but don’t worry, offer her the breast again, and she should take comfort in you,” he says, pulling the cap off, and it’s like a slow-motion show as I watch the thin metal needle travel through the air to her naked leg.

He pushes the needle toward her stick-thin legs, breaking the skin as it indents. She flinches at first as he plunges the liquid into her body and then starts to wail in Violet’s arms.

I see red… he’s hurting her, and I don’t realize I’m walking toward them until Callum’s hand comes down hard on my shoulder as I stand a hair’s breadth apart from Violet and the doctor. My hands fisted at my sides.

Damn it.

“It’s best to be vaccinated,” the doctor says to me as he pulls back. I watch the metal exit our daughter’s leg, probably no more than a centimeter, and then he recaps the needle before walking it over to the yellow bin and depositing it carelessly inside.

“How many more of those does she have to have?” I hiss.

“A few. But she will be fine. Babies forget about it instantly,” he assures me, walking back to his chair on the other side of the desk. I huff my annoyance at his lack of empathy. Punching him would make me feel better, that’s for sure.

“Do we have any questions then?” he says, typing things on his computer quicker than I would have expected for someone his age.

“I do. Are her eyes anything to be worried about? Any vision problems that we should be looking out for?” Callum pipes up for the first time since we’ve been in here. His question is valid.

Her eyes are two completely different colors. I know they can change in the first few years, but they are so different they contrast with one another. And now that he’s verbalized his concerns, will her vision be impaired?

“Ah yes, they are beautiful, aren’t they? It’s called heterochromia. Most people with it have twenty-twenty vision. But we will do an eye test when she’s older to make sure that she isn’t the rarity that has vision problems. Unfortunately, we won’t know anything for certain as babies this age can barely see and can’t verbalize a problem.” We all nod. So it is something to look out for then? Great.

Cross that bridge when it comes to it!

“So the DNA, what brought that up?” he asks, taking out a white A4 envelope and placing it in front of himself on the desk.

Violet smiles at him as if she doesn’t understand why he doesn’t understand.

“I want a child from each of them,” she says with a shrug, and he nods with a smile. It’s nice to hear her reconfirm her reasoning.

At first, I must admit I took offense.

Who cared whether Ella was Tyler’s, Callum’s, or mine?

I didn’t, and I still don’t, but I guess…yes, it is nice to think that we could all father a child genetically, though I don’t want the knowledge of paternity hindering the number of children we might have because I’d easily have four or five or six kids.

A whole house full of tiny humans, our tiny humans.

Running around our feet as they play hide and seek or race down the hallway. Maybe even duvet surfing the stairs like Tyler and I used to do. And we have a lot of stairs to do that on.

“Makes sense. Do you want me to read it, or do you want to take it home?” he questions.

Violet thinks for a second, looking up only when she has that determination of a decision fleeting across her face.

God, she’s breathtaking.

“You read it, Dr. Bartley, so we can’t misinterpret it in any way.”

He smiles at her, taking a small envelope knife to open it.

It consists of three paragraphs.

“Well, I’m happy to say that Tyler Mason is 99.99 percent the biological father of baby Henderson,” he states with a smile, placing the paperwork on the table in front of us. He points out the three paragraphs. Plainly written that there is a zero percent chance Callum or I were the genetic match as fathers.

“Well, looks like you’ve pulled the short straw for the next one,” I clap him on the back with a big grin. More fun for Callum and me. And I’ll be making sure that I leave my cum deep inside her at least once a day when she decides it’s time for another.

Heck, who am I kidding? She’ll be so full of it that it will literally run down her legs twenty-four seven.

“I mean, you didn’t need the paperwork when she’s your carbon copy,” Callum states, smiling down at Ella.

We leave the doctor’s office after getting all Ella’s appointments for the next damn year sorted…the doctor has one busy schedule.

He also gave Violet a birth control shot that should cover her for four months, so I guess we’re all in agreement that we won’t be using condoms, so the next best birth control was one for Violet and not the pill because she would probably forget it like the damn phone she never has on her.

The drive toward home is filled with contented silence. Tyler sitting in the back, letting Callum drive. I think he did that because he felt bad. After all, the car is rather cramped now.

No longer fitting his needs, our needs. But we will remedy that soon. He already had his eye on a larger car. A seven-seater car that is basically a minivan with Volvo’s stamp on it.

It was about time he retired this car anyway. He’s had it for so long that I’m not sure how it hasn’t broken down already.

“Can you drop me at my mother’s, Callum?” Tyler asks from the back. I can’t help scoffing at him, asking to be dropped somewhere in his own damned car.

“Can we drop by? I bet Liz would be thrilled to meet El,” Violet suggests, her gaze softening as she peers into the car seat. Her eyes are brimming with affection for our tiny miracle. I’m still grappling with the reality of it all. After years of yearning to be a dad, Ella arrived in a whirlwind and time seems to be on fast-forward… But I wouldn’t change a thing.

“My mom would be over the moon,” he replies, reaching out to intertwine his fingers with Vi’s. I watch as their hands fit together effortlessly.

And so, we set off, bypassing the private entrance to our home and driving an extra six miles to pull into a flawlessly paved driveway. Liz’s driveway. We really need to fix ours. I make a mental note to call the contractors for a quote on the driveway, fencing, and gate. Our home will be a fortress when I’m done with it. A sanctuary where Violet and Ella will be safe, where no one can just drive down the dirt road. There will be no risk, no danger. Just our girls in our home, shielded from the world.

“Mom?” Tyler’s voice echoes as he pushes open the front door.

We follow the sound of voices down the hallway and into the lounge. We find not only Liz but Kelsie and Ava too… and Sophie, cradling a baby that can’t be more than a couple of months old. Tyler halts abruptly, his gaze darting between the three women, causing us to stop as well. Violet maneuvers around him, surveying the room. I have to give her credit. She recovers much faster than the rest of us. She strides into the room, settles on the sofa with Ella in her arms, and a warm smile on her face. She doesn’t miss a beat.

“I hope you don’t mind, we thought you might like to meet Ella?” she offers, extending Ella toward Liz while fixing Sophie with a pointed stare. Sophie, who has been as quiet as a church mouse since that night at the club. I can sense her discomfort, being here in Tyler’s mom’s house. But honestly, I couldn’t give a damn. I plop down next to Violet on the couch, spreading my legs wide in a display of ease, even though I’m far from it.

Callum mirrors my actions, taking a seat next to her, his movements stiff. Tyler is the only one left standing in the doorway while Liz fusses over Ella, completely oblivious to the tension in the room.

“My niece has bright red hair just like her mommy,” Kelsie breaks the silence, moving to sit next to Liz and Ella. This is her first time meeting Ella, and it’s a pity that the moment is marred by Sophie’s presence.

“Ty?” Ava toddles over to Tyler, reaching up for a hug. He hesitates for a moment before he scoops her up. With a forced grin on his face, he greets Ava and turns his back on the rest of us on the couch.

“There’s my favorite little niece. What are you playing? Is that your baby?” he asks, leading her to the patio doors where she has a small play stroller set up with a doll and several accessories. He doesn’t acknowledge anyone else in the room but instead sits down with Ava to play dolls while the rest of us sit in silence, except for Liz and Kelsie who are cooing over Ella.

“How’s parenthood treating you?” Kelsie asks, either ignoring the fact that none of us has acknowledged Sophie or simply unaware.

“She doesn’t like to sleep unless she’s snuggled in bed with us,” Violet answers with a smile and a shrug. I can’t tear my gaze away from Sophie.

She’s nursing her baby, holding her close, trying not to look around. But her eyes keep darting to Tyler playing with Ava, then they meet mine, and I smirk. She still wants him, even after all this time.

“Ava sleeps in bed with me, always has,” Kelsie shares as Liz hands Ella over to her. She pulls her knees up on the couch, cradling Ella.

“Ava, come meet Ella? She’s Violet’s baby,” she calls, and Ava comes running, chanting “baby” over and over. She scrambles onto the couch and leans over to look at Ella.

“Baby,” she points at her, planting a gentle kiss on her cheek that makes my heart flutter. She’s the sweetest toddler I’ve ever met, and I can only hope that our little girl will be just as sweet when she’s Ava’s age. Maybe with a newborn sibling that will be Callum’s or mine.

“How are you, Sophie?” Violet’s voice slices through the silence, and I almost crush her hand as she addresses Sophie across the room. Everyone looks up then, waiting for Sophie to respond. She looks momentarily confused before answering.