The Secret Life of Cel Monroe 69

Chapter 69

I glanced at Autumn, who gave me the tiniest smirk over the rim of her glass—silent, sparkly pep talk. I smirked back, then looked up at Aaron, my eyes heavy-lidded, lips parted, breath still coming in short little gasps from eating like a total pig.

“Um… (hiccup) yeah, I just… I ate (huff) too much.”

I pouted, looking down and smoothing a hand over the huge curve of my belly. “I’m (pant) too stuffed to move,” I murmured, lashes low, lips parted. “And I need to (gasp) go to the bathroom… but I can’t (huff) stand on my own. I’m just… too (pant) weak.”

I looked up at him again, voice soft, sultry, teasing. “I need a (gasp) man to help (pant) me up.”

Aaron didn’t say a word.
Just stared.
Then swallowed hard.

He turned, set his cigar down in the ashtray like it was yesterday’s news.

When he turned back, I saw it—the flicker. That memory. A few years ago, back in his and Jenna’s apartment, when he offered me a hand off the couch and I told him I didn’t need help.

Back then, I didn’t. Now? I sort of did. And that thought made me hot.

His fingers sank into my forearms like they were made to be there—steady, warm, sure. With a few slow rocks, he hoisted me up. And when I finally made it to my feet—jeans open, breath coming in short, shallow gasps—my boobs and belly pressed right into him.

And he didn’t budge.
Didn’t flinch.
Didn’t dare step back.

Just stood there.
Close.
Still.

Eyes locked on mine like I was something he wasn’t letting go.

Then—God help me—he wrapped his arms around me.

As far as he could.

His hands slid up my back, fingers sinking into soft rolls like he’d been waiting for this. And if he’d kissed me right then, in front of everyone?

I would’ve let him. Would’ve melted into him—tipsy, breathless, moaning right there on Autumn’s damn patio, with my hair wild and my heart fully on display.

But he caught himself. Barely.

He stepped back, his eyes still locked on mine, then reached for my hand. Took it like it was always his to take. Fingers laced with mine, like he knew where this was headed.

“All right,” he said, voice low, thick, the kind of tone that hit me right between the thighs. “Come on baby. Watch your step.”

I fluttered my lashes. Dizzy. Bloated. Reeling. “Did you (gasp) just call (pant) me baby?”

That smile of his curled, shameless. “Sorry. Slipped out.”

I bit my lip, gave him a look that said don’t you dare stop—my whole body humming, nipples tight beneath my bra. “I’ll be (huff) right back,” I whispered, my eyes never leaving his as I turned.

Hips swaying.
Jeans slipping.

I yanked them up with both hands, hoisting soft, billowy love handles, squishing and creasing as the denim stretched tight over each of my oversized ass cheeks—stitching pulled taut like it was begging for mercy.

Every step was a bounce, every shift a ripple, my breath going shallow, my heart pounding harder than it should’ve been for someone who’d just walked ten feet.

And yeah—I knew he was still watching.

By the time I made it back from the bathroom, Mike was handing Autumn a giant slice of cheesecake on a little plate, and Aaron?

He was in my seat. Right next to her. Right where I needed to collapse before my feet shattered into splinters.

He glanced at me—eyes dipping briefly to where the waistband of my jeans gaped open, my belly jutting out, hanging low over my pelvis like it was ready to pop.

Then his gaze slid back up to mine—lit with that slow-burning heat that settled deep in a man’s chest when he saw something he wanted.

“Want your seat back?”

“Yeah,” I breathed, voice low and thick with champagne, heart thudding beneath the swell of me. “I really (gasp) need to get off (huff) my feet.”

He started to rise, already halfway up.

“No,” I said, slow and smoky. “You stay (huff) right there.”

“But—”

I didn’t let him finish.

I turned, gave him my backside, bent over so my ass was right in his face, then lowered myself onto his lap.

All of me.

Hips spreading wide, belly oozing over the tops of my thighs, everything soft, heavy, hot. I was everywhere. On him. Around him. Sinking into him.

I wiggled my butt around, settled in more.
Let him feel it.

Because I was testing him.
Not with words.
With weight.

I needed to know—really know—I’d never be too much for him.

He sucked in a breath as I sank in deeper, every inch of me pressed to him, surrounding him. For a second, I worried—panicked, that I might actually really hurt him.

But then?

I felt him squirm.

Felt his hardness press beneath me as his hands slid over my hips, grabbing hold of my ass like it was something he’d dreamed about for years. Big, greedy palms sinking into my softness, holding me like he fucking meant it.

Like I wasn’t too much.
Like I was everything.

Then his hands moved—up, forward, bold—right to my belly. And instead of hesitating, instead of pulling back?

He grabbed my fat, my rolls. Gently rubbed me. Massaged the fullness like it was something he loved more than life itself.

I should’ve been horrified. I should’ve pushed his hands away.

But I didn’t.

Because it felt good. So good.

And I loved that he was doing it in front of everyone—like he didn’t give a damn who was watching.

Because it wasn’t for show.

It was him—his hands, his body, his breath—responding to me, real and raw, without a single trace of hesitation or shame, just like a man should.

Like I was the only thing in his world that mattered.

Lizzie clapped her hands. “Hold on, baby girl, the only thing you’re missing is some cheesecake.”

She wiggled—jiggled—her way to the low table, grabbed a box labeled Happy Wife, Happy Life (because of course), and cut me a huge slice. Just like Mike had done for Autumn.

I didn’t even have to ask. Didn’t have to say a word.

I just leaned deeper into Aaron’s touch—his hands still on me, warm, steady—and opened my mouth as Lizzie brought the fork to my lips.

One big, creamy bite. And I moaned around it.

“Okay,” Lizzie said, eyes twinkling. “We better let him feed you—let him earn you. But maybe slide off him a little before you kill him.”

I shifted my hips, turning just enough to let my back press into the arm of the sofa. Aaron adjusted with me—easy, smooth and to his right—so my ass slid mostly off his lap, and my thighs stretched across his like they were meant to live there.

He took the plate from Lizzie, the fork too, never breaking eye contact.

That look?

So full of heat it had my heart thudding and my lips parting before the bite even reached me.

And he fed me.

Another big, decadent bite. I moaned as I chewed, lips parting, tongue slipping out to catch the sweetness left behind.

He kept going.
Fork to lips. Bite after bite.
Until the whole slice was gone.

When I finished, he handed the plate and fork back to Lizzie without even glancing her way—like she wasn’t even there.

Then his arm came around me, pulling me in tight.

My belly folded between us. My breasts swelled. Nipples hard. Pulse pounding. Pussy already throbbing and wet against the clasp of my bodysuit, heat pooling low like every nerve knew what was coming next.

He leaned in— unrushed, no question in his eyes.

And when our lips met?

Magic.

Full. Soft. Deep.
A kiss that curled my toes in my boots, stole my breath, and made the whole world fall away.

The kind of kiss that didn’t need permission—
The kind that promised more.
So much more.

I heard Sydney clapping, Lizzie letting out a full-on woo-woo like she’d just watched her favorite rom-com finale live and in person. Then came the oohs and aahs from the rest of the patio, like Aaron and I kissing was some kind of cosmic alignment everyone had been waiting on.

And honestly? It felt like that.

“Jeez, (hiccup) you two look so hot together,” Sydney said, fanning herself. “That was (pant) freaking hot. Whatever that was.”

“Right?!” Lizzie squealed, practically bouncing in her seat.

I leaned back, breathless, hair wild, lips kiss-swollen. “I (gasp) didn’t hurt you, (pant) did I?”

Aaron just looked at me, hands sliding slow over my massive thigh, then easing up to the soft expanse of my belly—protruding like a blubbery balloon over my jeans. He gave it a gentle pat, a slow caress.

“No,” he said. “But even if you did… it was worth it.”

Lizzie gasped, hand to her chest. “Gawd, Cel, your body is insane. Like next-level goddess shit.”

I turned, met Aaron’s eyes—so full of everything.

“I’m not too (gasp) much for you… am I?” I asked, voice soft, low—like it carried every ache, every wish I hadn’t dared to speak.

But I wasn’t afraid. Not with him.

“No, baby,” he said. “Not for me. No matter how much I get of you, I’m always gonna want more.”

Oh God. Just take my clothes off already.

The sky was dark now, stars scattered like diamonds across velvet, the night holding its breath for whatever came next.

“In that (hiccup) case,” I gasped, lips curving slow and wicked, “I better have another (gasp) slice of cake… and another glass (hiccup) of champagne.”

I shifted, pressing my ass harder into his thigh—slow, deliberate—then slid my hand to his crotch, fingers brushing just enough to feel the truth of it.

“You’re (gasp) driving me (pant) home tonight, right?” I asked, voice low, lashes fluttering, playing sweet but meaning everything.

He smirked. Dimples out. Eyes soft, warm—like melted chocolate and something deeper. “Only if you let me buy you a big dessert on the way… and rub your belly while you eat.”

My nipples tightened. Butterflies kicked low in my belly—tight and fluttering, even through the fullness.
God, especially through the fullness.

I looked up at him, into those eyes that never wavered, not for a second.

“But that’s (gasp) just gonna (wheeze) make my butt (pant) even bigger,” I whispered, breath catching as I felt him grow even longer and harder under my hand.

His gaze didn’t flicker. “Good, I want it even bigger.”

That.
Right there.
That was the moment.

The one where everything inside me settled.
Clicked.
Knew.

Because it wasn’t just sexy.
 It wasn’t just words.

It was him.
 Seeing me.
 Really seeing me.
 Getting me—down to my softest, neediest places.
 And loving me not in spite of it…
 But because of it.

Yeah… home was already wherever he was.

But also?

I really wanted him in my condo.
Preferably naked.
And preferably soon. 

But after he bought me that huge dessert, obviously. 

The Secret Life of Cel Monroe

by Jolene Dubois (2025)