by Willa Thorne
“It wasn’t that long ago,” Jill commented, and the answer was met with a slap to her ass.
She gasped.
I studied the sight of her, stomach pressed against the duvet with wrists bound to the king sized rot iron headboard. My cock was hard, aching within the restraint of my trousers.
I kept my gaze on her as I undressed myself. I forced her thighs apart and dipped two fingers swiftly inside her. She was warm and slick, ready for me.
“Tell me what you need,” I whispered with my body pressed firmly against hers.
“I need you… Sir.” She whispered with desperation in her voice.
“Say it. Specifically.” I smacked the delicious curve of her rear.
“I need your cock. I need you to fuck me,” she begged in a gasp and it pleased me greatly.
“Well, when you say it like that… how can I deny my wife?” I answered hoarsely. With one swift thrust, I was inside her. I sucked in a sharp breath and groaned, and heard her gasps as I thrust deeply, to the hilt. Her tightness wrapped around my length and massaged every inch.
The noises she made fueled my tempo and I was relentless. My hands gripped her ass, leaving marks that would be present the next morning. I leaned forward and nipped her neck and ears.
She gasped and moaned my name repeatedly, even when I slowed my thrusting to a steady, grinding motion against her clit. Her moans turned into desperate groans and I felt her muscles clench around around my cock. I was done for… I released with a tug of her hair.
I was exhausted from the lack of sleep, the travel, and my carnal need for her. I remained on top of her, breathing heavily for several minutes.
“I love you, Mason,” she whispered.
I reached up and unbound her wrists from the bed frame.
“I love you, my Jilly Bean.” I stated as she rolled over to face me.
I kissed her lips, and she smiled before she kissed my nose.
“Are you going to show me the rest of your flat?” She asked.
I smirked. “Greedy thing. Of course, once I regain my strength. If I’m going to give you the grand tour, I’d best do it right.”
She laughed lightly against my chest.
Hours later, I resumed the tour, and introduced each room, before I took her on a surface or position of my choosing.
“This is the kitchen,” I stated simply as I bent her over the dark granite island.
“I see that,” she returned a snarky tone, and it was excuse enough for me to spank that ass.
“Ms. P- Woodward-”
“Mrs. Woodward. There is no more Ms. Pryor for you,” she continued with sass.
I swear, my wife asks for this…
“Are you asking for a sound spanking, Mrs. Woodward?” I asked firmly.
“Perhaps. So what if I was? Is that so bad?”
I tried to contain my cool, domineering tone, but she made it very difficult. I love her sass.
“No, Mrs. Woodward, it’s not bad at all- but if you ask for it, I will give it to you.”
“So give it.”
Fucking hell. This woman. “Very well, my darling.”
20. Jillian Woodward
One year later…
I awoke and glanced at the digital clock on the nightstand beside Mason’s side of the bed. The bright red numbers read 3:08 am. His side of the bed remained untouched, and I sat up quickly when I realized the penthouse was too quiet. Mason never came home. Worried, I searched for my cell phone and realized I left it in the other room.
Quietly, my barefeet padded across the carpet of our bedroom. I wore one of Mason’s black t-shirts, and it was the only thing that covered the top half of my body. I left our bedroom and turned a corner. The door to the next room was left wide open, as it always is these days. I peered into the room, and my heart melted.
Mason was rested in the chocolate leather glider, half asleep. His black suit jacket was strewn across the matching ottoman and his matching tie had fallen to the floor. He still wore his white silk button-down, which was a rumpled mess. Our three month old daughter lay sleeping peacefully on his chest as he rested back in the cushioned chair. I couldn’t bring myself to disturb them, and the flash of my camera would wake Julia, so I leaned against the frame of the doorway and admired the sight of them together. My heart melted by the second. Gemma was resting with her head on Mason’s foot, eyes closed.
I watched our infant daughter sleep on her father’s chest. She was born with a head full of thick, black hair. She wore a green polka dot sleeper with little white sheep printed on the material. Mason’s hands remained pressed gently against her back to support her while she slept.
After admiring the view, I crossed the exquisite nursery and planted a kiss on my husband’s forehead, and then scooped our baby into my arms. Julia’s absence was enough to wake Mason and he shifted.
“Hello love,” he murmured. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep like that.”
I couldn’t stop smiling, and then I saw the wet drool stain on Mason’s rumpled silk button-down, and I giggled softly.
Mason glanced down at his chest, and then shrugged. He stood as I held our daughter and he removed the shirt from his body.
The olive muscles on his shoulders and broad back flexed as he removed the shirt from his body and tossed it into the wicker clothes hamper. We’ve been married for a year, and I don’t think I’ll ever tire of the sight of him shirtless.
“I was worried when I woke up and saw that you didn’t touch your side of the bed,” I whispered as I cradled the baby.
Mason gave a sheepish grin and wrapped his large arms around me and our sleeping daughter. “I think the sleepless nights have taken a toll on you. You were sound asleep by the time I arrived home around seven. She started fussing, and I didn’t want her to wake you.”
I looked over my shoulder, and our eyes met. “I love you. Thanks for letting me sleep.”
“Of course,” Mason’s eyes shone and every time I see his smile, my heart swells.
He took our daughter from my arms and very gently, very carefully placed her in the crib. He was being overly cautious; he still tucks her in as though he’s afraid he might accidentally break her. All other times, I have to pry her away from him. When my family visits, it’s a struggle for my mom or Travis to get a hold of her.
If I knew that he was going to be like this with her, I wouldn’t have been so nervous about telling him I was pregnant. I still remember that day; it was at the tail-end of our honeymoon. The pink stripes on the test stick that morning screamed at me.
Oh shit.
I debated whether I should just try to sneak out to a clinic and get a blood test to confirm or deny, rather than falsely scare Mason. He had made it perfectly clear that the dog was more than enough for us.
No, we promised each other no more secrets, even if they are false positives or negatives, I reminded myself of this.
“Good morning, love,” Mason greeted me with a smile as he poured us each cups of coffee.
“Morning sweetie.” I glanced at the coffee on the granite countertop. I wasn’t sure if it was my nerves, or it was the actual smell of coffee, but I suddenly felt nauseous.
“I reserved a table at The Shard,” Mason’s grin would have been panty melting if I didn’t feel so green at the moment.
“Oh that’s good,” I mumbled.
“I recall you liked it there very much last week,” He smirked and took a sip of his coffee. He looked at me. “Are you alright? You look pale.”
He pulled out a wooden chair at the small table in the kitchen and I sat, and then he sat with me.
“I think I’m okay,” I answered. Honestly, that depends on you.
He glanced at me suspiciously. “What is it?” He took another sip of his coffee as he looked at me.
Here goes. “Well, I was wondering … maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if we had kids someday?”
Mason spit his coffee out, and started coughing.
“Oh my God,
are you okay?” I got up and started patting his back.
“I’m fine,” he answered hoarsely, and pushed his cup away. “Bloody hell, Jill. Where did you come up with that?”
“It was just a thought…” I started to retreat in my explanation.
Mason’s brow creased and the knot in his jaw tightened.
“Actually, no. It wasn’t just a thought. I’ve been feeling sick off and on lately so I took a test this morning… and it was positive…”
Mason closed his eyes and I think the blood drained from his face. I watched him bury his face in his hands. He remained like this for several moments, with his elbows resting on the table. Occasionally, he raked his hands through his hair, before covering his face with his hands again.
“Mason, say something. I don’t want to go through this alone.”
My heart thundered in my chest as I waited for him to respond.
Finally, he looked up. His face was crimson. “I never said you would have to go through this alone. I just… needed a minute… to think…”
I watched him rub his hands over his face, as he often does when he’s severely distressed.
“What are you thinking?”
Mason was silent for several more minutes.
Finally he answered, and the expression on his face was perplexed. “I’m thinking of reasons why I shouldn’t be upset about this…”
“Well you shouldn’t be upset. I didn’t knock myself up.”
He let out a short laugh, but still rubbed his hands over his face in contemplation. After a few minutes more, he spoke again.
“I’m thinking that if you are in fact expecting, our child couldn't be blessed with a better mother. Maybe it won’t be so screwed up.”
He still looked stressed, but he turned and looked at me. “Come here,” he gently reached over and pulled me onto his lap.
“There are many things I’ve taken on in my life that I was convinced I didn’t want, but they actually give me a great deal of happiness: You, the dog, and… maybe this…” his lip twitched, as though he was still uncertain. “Whatever the case may be, I’ll be here with you because I love you.”
I smiled. My Mason. Warmth and relief washed over my being, and the queasy feeling diminished a bit. He kept his strong arms wrapped around me and rested his lips against my neck. As we sat there, I considered how far he has come. I thought about the man who waited for me in the silver Benz outside the Starbucks on that cold night… but, he’s not that man anymore.
~~~~
“Have you ever thought about returning to New York?” Mason’s question to my brother snapped me from my memory.
He and Travis were sitting on the sofa, watching a baseball game on the television. I sat with Julia on my lap in the livingroom of my aunt and uncle’s farmhouse in Ohio. Mason and I were there for the weekend, and I watched as he was again trying to talk Travis into moving back to New York.
“What for?” Travis asked as he topped off the rest of his beer. He stood and retreated into the kitchen and returned moments later with two cans. He handed one to Mason.
“You seem to dislike your job and what the hell is there in Ohio? You can’t possibly like it here.”
“I have a job, and a place to live. That’s good enough for me.” Travis answered as he popped the lid on the can.
“Easy on the beer, Travis. We haven’t even eaten dinner yet,” my mom scolded him from the kitchen.
“I have been looking for a new CFO for months, and I haven’t found a bloody soul I can trust enough.”
“Where is this going?” Travis asked with skepticism.
“Face it, Mate. There is nothing for you here.” My husband persisted. My Mason still insists on having the upper hand in all things. I’ve come to accept that about him. It doesn’t mean I’m not entertained when others challenge him.
“I got plenty going on here. I’m not leeching off you or your various enterprises,” Travis answered. “Do you know how fucking awkward it would be to work for my best friend?”
“Language.” Mason reminded my brother, gesturing toward our daughter, who was still propped upright on my lap.
I rolled my eyes, and Travis stated exactly what I was thinking.
“You just said ‘bloody.’ That’s the same thing where you’re from.” Travis eyed me. “You live with this guy?”
I smiled and shrugged. “He’s useful for some things.”
“Bloody doesn’t mean the same thing around here. It’s less offensive.” Mason explained as he popped the lid on the can.
Travis gave him a look. “Right. And that’s exactly why I won’t work for you.”
Mason looked to me for backup and I shook my head. No way, I’m not getting in the middle of this. It’s way too amusing.
“Travis! You never cleared the dishwasher and is that your second beer before dinner?” My mother persisted in the kitchen.
Mason threw his head back and laughed. Travis grimaced and punched him in the arm.
“On second thought, New York sounds good. I don’t know about the CFO position, but I can help you organize some sh-” he looked over to Julia, who played on my lap. “I’ll help you sort everything, but I won’t be micromanaged and I’m not making any promises.”
My heart leapt with excitement. Travis is coming back to New York! I wasn’t worried about mom. She seemed happy here with my aunt and uncle, and cousin.
“Do you hear that, Julia? We will be seeing much more of your Uncle Travy,” I spoke softly to her. My husband and brother were still discussing the potential plan while the game played in the background.
“Brilliant. We’ll sort the details and start arrangements on Monday.” Mason was already sounding like a CEO, ready for Monday, and it was only Saturday night.
Travis seemed a little hesitant. My husband only grinned, because once again, he got his way. Julia began fussing since it was close to her meal time, and I stood as I held her in my arms. I patted her back as I walked into the kitchen.
Mason rounded the corner and gently took the baby from my arms.
“Hello princess,” He smiled to our daughter and then kissed my forehead. She held her head up and smiled at the sound of his voice. She fixated her gaze on him as he spoke to her.
“I was just about to feed her,” I said softly. I grabbed a prepared bottle from the refrigerator.
“Let me hold her while you get her bottle,” Mason said, leaving no room for question.
I rolled my eyes but only smiled.
My brother came up behind me as he eyed his best friend. “I never would have pegged him for a family man.”
“I didn’t either, but he won’t let me hold her for five minutes.” I joked.
“You’re in so much trouble. You know that, right?” Travis smirked. “Just wait until she’s old enough to date.”
“Bloody hell.” Mason scowled, stopping in his tracks. “She’s not dating until she’s at least forty.” He carried that domineering tone in his voice.
“Yeah. Have fun with that.” My brother seemed to be enjoying this.
My husband’s face contorted into one of worry. “As long as she doesn’t run into any bloke like me…”
“Travis, stop.” I laughed. “You’re going to make Mason turn gray before he’s forty.” My brother only laughed and then left the kitchen, again forgetting to unload the dishwasher.
I warmed the bottle and tested the temperature before Mason took it from me, just before he kissed my lips softly.
“I love you,” I whispered.
“I love you too.” He answered with a smile. “Always.”
~~The End~~
Mason’s and Jillian’s story is concluded, but this isn’t goodbye!
Thank you for reading this series! Your feedback means so much!
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Love,
Willa