Money Power 29

Emery’s POV

The first time I saw my daughter, something inside me finally clicked. It was like I became whole in that instant, like every missing piece I didn’t even know was gone snapped back together.

I realized right then I didn’t need anything else. Just her.

Motherhood is exhausting, overwhelming, and sometimes it feels like everything is a constant struggle to stay afloat. But with her, everything suddenly felt bearable.

Like the chaos around me faded just enough for the two of us to find peace.

The second month after she was born, the world shrank down to the size of our tiny coastal apartment. No gala invitations cluttered the calendar, no whispers or rumors in the press, no endless boardroom battles waiting on the other side of the door.

It was just us. It wasn’t some magical or storybook ending.

We didn’t suddenly slip back into an easy rhythm, pretending like nothing had ever happened. There were still long nights when exhaustion felt endless, mornings that arrived too early, and moments when I questioned everything, wondering if I could ever find solid ground again.

But Landon was there. Every single day. He didn’t wait for me to ask for help. He just showed up. He changed diapers at three in the morning without a complaint.

Bottles were washed and stacked before I was even awake.

When I looked like a zombie, which was most days, he would gently take the baby from my arms and pace the apartment, rocking her against his chest and whispering made-up lullabies just to give me a break.

He never brought up the past unless I did. There were no dramatic speeches or guilt-soaked apologies. Instead, he just stayed present, steady, consistent. His presence alone was enough.

There were moments when I didn’t even realize I needed him until he was there. Like the night I stood in the kitchen at two a.m., half-asleep and fumbling to reach for the formula canister.

I hadn’t even turned on the stove yet when Landon walked in, rubbing his eyes, carrying a warm bottle in his hand.

“Already done,” he said softly, handing it to me with a tired but genuine smile.

Or the mornings when I couldn’t get her to stop crying no matter what I tried. I bounced her, paced the room, sang every lullaby I knew until my voice cracked and tears threatened at the corners of my eyes.

Then Landon came in, took one look, and without a word scooped her up from my arms.

“You rest,” he whispered. He held our daughter close against his chest and rocked her gently. She quieted within seconds. I just stood there, stunned. He smiled then, quietly.

“I’ve been watching you,” he said. “You don’t have to do it all alone anymore.” And for the first time, I believed him.

Some nights, we barely said a word. We just sat on opposite ends of the couch while the baby slept soundly between us in her bassinet.

I watched him fold tiny onesies with the same hands that used to slam down on boardroom tables during meetings. It was a different kind of strength now.

One evening, I was nursing her in the rocker while Landon folded laundry nearby. The windows were cracked open, letting in the cool sea air.

Everything felt still, like the world had slowed down just for a moment.

He looked up at me, his expression unreadable at first. Then he spoke. “Can we start again?”

I blinked, caught off guard. “Start what again?”

“Us.” His voice was soft, almost shy, not demanding or desperate.

“I’m not asking for everything,” he added quickly. “Not yet. Just… a beginning. With nothing expected. Just you, me, and this.”

I stared at him for a long moment, my heart not racing, but feeling something quieter and steadier than that. I looked down at our daughter, her tiny fingers curled around the fabric of my shirt.

I thought about all the nights I had cried alone, the girl who left without a suitcase because she had no one to pack for.

And now, this man was asking for a chance to earn back the version of me he never really saw the first time around.

My throat tightened and my eyes stung, but I nodded slowly. “Yes,” I whispered. “We can try.”

His whole body softened, like he’d been holding his breath for weeks. He walked toward me slowly, carefully, like I might vanish. He crouched down in front of the rocker, gently touching the baby’s foot.

Then he looked up at me again and this time, I didn’t hold back. I leaned forward, and kissed him. It wasn’t rushed and uncertain. It was full, and deep.

The kind of kiss that says, “We’re not perfect, but we’re trying.”

He kissed me back like he’d been waiting his whole life to. And maybe, in some way, we both had. By the time she was asleep in her bassinet, the air between us had changed.

He stood behind me in the bedroom, his hands at my waist, his mouth against my neck.

“I’ve missed your body so fucking much,” he growled, his breath hot on my skin. “I’ve missed your pussy, the taste of it, the way you moan when I’ve got my cock buried inside you.”

I shivered, too shy to say anything, my body already betraying me with how wet I was getting. He pressed me against the dresser, grinding his cock, already thick and hard, against my ass through my sleep shorts.

“You want me?” he whispered roughly. “Tell me. Say it.”

I swallowed hard, barely able to breathe. “I want you.”

“Louder.”

“I want you, Landon.”

He groaned like he was in pain. “Fuck, baby…”

His hands slipped under my shirt, grabbing my tits roughly, thumbs circling my nipples until I gasped. Then he dropped to his knees, yanking my shorts and panties down in one swift motion.

“Spread your legs, let me see that pussy.”

I hesitated for half a second, blushing, but obeyed. He groaned low when he saw the wetness glistening between my thighs. “Goddamn. You’re dripping for me.”

He dove in, his mouth hot and greedy, tongue lapping at my folds like he was starved. He sucked my clit hard, fingers digging into my thighs to keep me in place.

“Oh, fuck- Landon,” I gasped, clutching the edge of the dresser.

“You taste like heaven. I’m gonna make you cum on my tongue before I even fuck you.”

He slid two fingers into my pussy, curling them just right while he flicked my clit with his tongue, fast and ruthless, my legs shook.

The tension snapped so fast, I screamed, cumming hard around his fingers, thighs clenching against his face.

But he didn’t stop. He stood up, lifting me by the waist and tossing me onto the bed. His cock was already out, thick and leaking. “I should take it easy,” he muttered darkly, “but fuck, baby, I want to ruin you.”

I stared at him, wide-eyed and flushed. “You scared?” I shook my head slowly. He smirked, crawling over me, rubbing the head of his cock through my soaked folds.

“Good. Because I’m not stopping until you cum on my dick too.”