by Hannah Gray
“Pfft, wow. Talk about cocky. Your dick isn’t that big, Mason.” She rolls her eyes.
I cock my head to the side. “That’s not what you said in the Hamptons. If I recall, you said it was huge … and what was the other word? Oh, right. Perfect.”
“You’re annoying. Just shut up. I can’t believe you are turning me down for sex.”
I sigh. “I just can’t do it. It freaks me out. I promise after you have her and are healed, I’ll make it up to you. Numerous times a day”—I press my lips to her ear—“in different positions, all over this house.”
A clear shiver runs down her body. She pulls away and lets out a long groan. “You suck. You’re the one who put me in this position, and you can’t even take care of me sexually. Asshole.”
I feel bad. Really, I do. But it’s fucking weird. I’m sure she’s sexually frustrated as hell. I mean, fuck, she told me she hasn’t even gone on a date with anyone since our weekend in the Hamptons. So, I’m sure she has a lot of sexual tension built up. I wish I could take care of her, but I can’t.
A twang of guilt hits me. I was with Stassi for months. In those months, we certainly had sex. The entire time, I couldn’t get Anna out of my fucking head, but still, she was carrying my child while I was fucking another woman. Nothing has ever made me feel so low in my entire life. Anna knows all of this though. She’s chosen to forgive me for it, and that shows just how strong of a person she really is. Most girls would keep bringing it up. Rightfully so too. But not Anna. She asked me a few things about it and asked me if I had any remaining feelings for Stassi. I answered truthfully and said hell no. She was a great girl and all, but she wasn’t for me. She was just someone to help pass the time.
Wow, what a dick thing to say, asshole.
After leaning against my chest for a moment, she springs back up. “Well then, I have an idea. If you can’t pleasure me with your”—she points to my crotch area—“then I have different way you can.”
A grin spreads across my face. This girl, always so fucking fierce and ready to fool around. “That sounds perfect.” I wink. Imagining what other fun things we can do to relieve our sexual tension.
“Great!”
After watching her struggle to climb off of my lap, I push her to stand. She disappears into the bathroom and returns a minute later with some lotion.
Well, well, well, what kind of dirty things does she want to do today?
I’m about to strip her clothes off when she sits back on the couch and sets her feet up on the coffee table. “A foot massage!”
Yep, not what I expected. A groan escapes my throat. So much for getting her naked and fooling around.
I take a look at her perfect yet swollen feet and sit up. “Ugh. Fine. Only because you’re pregnant. I fucking hate feet.” I really do. Although honestly, hers do not gross me out. Anything to make this girl happy.
She shrugs nonchalantly. “I hate the New York Giants. Yet here I am, having a baby with their wide receiver.”
My mouth hangs open. I glare at her. “You take that back.”
Her eyes dance with fire. “Never. Now, rub my feet, bitch boy.”
I shake my head and do as she said. This girl will be the death of me.
fifty-one
Anna
Ichew around my thumbnail and then move to the next one. Gross, I know.
I practically hear my mother yelling at me in my head, Anna, how many times do I have to tell you not to chew your nails? That is absolutely disgusting.
My nails are already sore from the stress and anxiety I’m clearly taking out on them. Hopefully, my mom doesn’t look too closely; she’ll surely put her nose up at my imperfections.
Tearing my nail from my mouth, I smooth down my dark green sweater dress.
“Hey,” Mason’s deep voice rumbles, startling me.
“Mmhmm?” I murmur back while glancing out the window of the private jet he got us to go to Maine on the day after Christmas. Which I’m sure wasn’t cheap.
“Look at me,” he demands grabbing my hand.
I turn my head and find concerned sapphire-blue eyes watching me. His full lips are in a straight line.
“I don’t want you to get yourself worked up. You’re thirty-four weeks pregnant. Fuck, this probably was a stupid idea of mine.” He drags a hand down over his face.
I can tell he’s worried. I’d like to tell him he shouldn’t be, but my family will no doubt stress me out.
I give his hand a reassuring squeeze. “I know. I’m fine, really,” I lie through my teeth.
The crinkles at the sides of his eyes tell me he’s not buying it. But because he’s who he is, he drops the subject.
“Thanks for doing this. I’m sure it cost a fortune. I feel bad.” I really do too. Even if he can afford it, I still feel awful about it.
That signature smirk breaks out over his face. “Babe, they don’t pay me the big bucks for nothin’. I’m Mason fuckin’ King.”
I swat his shoulder. “You’re Mason Cocky King, I would say.”
Though even when he says cocky things like that, they are always playful. He doesn’t mean anything by them; his only purpose is to make me smile. And it almost always works.
He shrugs and places a hand on my thigh. “Eh, maybe. But I must be doing something right. Here I am, sitting with a sexy little redhead on a private jet.”
His hand moves a little higher, and I shiver, biting my lip.
Disappointment instantly fills my body when he moves his hand away. This man turns me on so much that I can hardly stand myself.
“But seriously, be prepared for my family. They are nuts.”
I think about how my mother will deal with us arriving, unannounced. I mean, I did try to call, but she just didn’t answer, so I decided to take shit into my own hands and show up. Before our baby girl gets here, I need closure from my family. I need to know for sure that they don’t want to take steps to repairing our family. I owe it to myself and our daughter.
Running his hand through my hair, he gives me a soft smile. “Your family won’t scare me away, Anna. I promise.”
“I know. It’s just … they tend to not think a lot of me. I don’t want them to cloud your judgment.” Or convince you of how worthless I really am. Then, you’ll leave me too. Again.
Tilting my chin up with his hand, he presses his mouth to mine. Cinnamon lingers on his lips, making me want more. Pulling back, he says, “Baby mama, I want you. No rich, hoity-toity pricks are going to change my mind.”
I feign hurt. “Hey, that’s my family you’re talking about.”
“Yeah, sure,” he says before his lips dive back onto mine.
I know we’re close to halfway there, but I can’t take it. I need him. And the best part of it? We’re the only ones on this plane other than the pilots. Pure privacy.
Moving my hand under his shirt, I feel his sexy, hard abs. His body always makes me slightly self-conscious of my own. He’s so fit. I move my hand down and undo his belt, and he hisses under his breath.
“Fuck, Anna. I told you I’m nervous about hurting you or the baby if we have sex.”
I shake my head. “Mase, it isn’t going to hurt her. I even asked my midwife.”
That gets his attention. “You did?”
I nod slowly, watching him.
“And … what did she, um … say?”
“That it is absolutely safe and there is no way you are going to hurt her.”
“Or you?” he asks.
“Or me. I promise.”
He thinks for a few moments before I drag a finger down his abs and to just under his waistband. “Mason, I need you. So badly.” I know I sound like I’m begging. But I honestly don’t care. I need this man, like, yesterday.
His eyes darken, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows hard.
I reach down his pants, and I run my hand over his long, thick length, which is absolute perfection. He grits his teeth and growls.
He leans his lips clo
ser to me. “Take your leggings and panties off, Red,” his voice roughly demands.
Not needing to be told twice, I strip them off like he said. Luckily, with my sweater dress, I’m still covered, making it that much hotter when he runs his hand up my inner thigh and cups the area that needs him most.
His lips find my neck. He licks, kisses, and bites while his fingers work in and out of my center. I’m embarrassed by how wet I am until I reach down his pants again and find him just as turned on as I am.
Pushing himself to stand, he adjusts himself and nods his chin toward the back of the plane. I get up. Pulling my sweater dress down.
We go into a restroom, which is a hell of a lot bigger than any airplane restroom I’ve seen. This looks like a regular bathroom in a house. He locks the door behind us and wastes no time in pulling his jeans down enough until he springs free. My mouth waters at the sight. And I bite my lip.
In two strides, he’s in front of me, picking me up by the waist and backing me up to the restroom door.
In one motion, he thrusts himself into me. Moving his hands to cup my ass, he moves in and out, hovering his mouth over mine.
It doesn’t take long for us to both be moaning and gasping for air. Rocking slowly against each other as we get every ounce of our orgasm out of one another.
Pressing his forehead to mine, he smirks. “You little sex machine, how could I ever tell you no?”
I shrug. “I don’t know, but I’m glad you finally gave in. I was getting desperate.”
Gently setting me down, he buttons his pants back up. “We should be landing anytime now. Better get back to our seats.” He presses a kiss to my lips.
Following him out of the restroom after making sure I look presentable, I playfully nudge him. “Well, now, we can say we’re in the Mile-High Club.” I frown. “Although, knowing you, you were already in that club.”
A cough escapes him. “Um … no comment.”
I shove his arm. “You are such a pig.” Though I’m not surprised. Look at him.
He winks. “Yeah, but you still want me.”
Yeah, I do, and you have no idea how much. Or how much it scares me.
Mason
We’re about twenty minutes from her parents’ house, and I can’t help but notice the closer we get, the more she fidgets and can’t sit still. Fuck, maybe this wasn’t a good idea. I’m beginning to ask myself what I was possibly thinking, bringing my pregnant girlfriend around people who obviously stress her the fuck out.
One hand rests on the steering wheel while I use the other to reach across the console and take her hand in mine. She glances over at me and attempts to reassure me that she’s okay with a smile. It doesn’t work though. I know her real smile, and I know her acting smile. The one she uses with everyone else. Maybe to them, it’s hard to tell the difference but not to me.
The remainder of the drive, I try to ease her mind with talking, something she normally loves to do, but it isn’t working.
We pass through a town that’s right on the ocean. Hoity-toity shops and bed-and-breakfasts line the streets. The town screams old money and rich pricks. I might have money now, but I don’t fit in, in places like this, not by a long shot.
She directs me down a side street and then to turn left. We arrive in front of a gate even taller than the one at my own mansion. It isn’t that I wanted a gate at my house. But being in the NFL, you have no choice but to live in a gated place since people can be fucking crazy.
Behind the gate, it looks to be a never-ending paved driveway, grass on both sides, lined with huge cedar trees.
I look over to see her gently rubbing her belly. Not as if she’s hurt. More of a comfort thing.
“Hey”—I nod my chin—“you all right?”
She gives me a small shrug. “I guess. They probably won’t even let me in. Afraid I might poison the property.”
We pull up to the gate, and I reach over and hit the button. Very aware of the camera pointed at my face. I’d like to hold up a middle finger, but that probably won’t help my girl’s situation.
No one says anything on the intercom, but moments later, the gate opens. My property is big, to be humble, but this is insane. There are man-made ponds on the sides of the road. Yeah, that’s right. Ponds, as in plural, more than one. There’s landscaping perfectly executed everywhere. Every single square foot of this property has been carefully planned and thought out to suggest perfection. Until Anna explained her parents to me in the Hamptons, I never would have imagined this was where she came from. She’s too … normal and down-to-earth. This place reminds me of my father’s house. All for show.
After driving half a mile down the driveway, we come to a stop in front of a house that is probably bigger than mine. It’s not new, yet it’s pretty fucking extravagant.
Putting the SUV in park, I lean over and pull her face to mine, resting my thumb on her chin. “I want to go in with you. I don’t trust them. You’re thirty-four weeks pregnant. I can’t take the risk that they’ll do something to make you upset.”
Everything she does seems to be in robotic mode. She nods. “Okay. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
After getting out of the SUV, we make our way to the front door. I hold her hand and steady her, as it seems she’s actually weak in her knees right now. My strong, tough warrior of a girl is so intimidated by her own family. I shake my head at myself. I can’t wrap my brain around who would want to ruin someone as fucking amazing as her.
Snow has fallen along the pathway. When I looked at the outside-temperature sensor in the car before getting out, it read twelve degrees. This property though? Brings that coldness into my bones. It’s frigid here. Even if it were seventy-five degrees and sunny, it would be.
Slowly, she puts her small fist up and knocks. Even though she’s inches away from me, it feels like she’s on another planet. The look in her eye is one I’ve never seen. It’s like the Anna I know has checked out and gone somewhere else. Somewhere far, far away.
After a few moments, she takes a step back and shakes her head. “We should go. This was a mistake. They don’t want to see me.”
She begins to turn around when the door opens. A man who looks to be in his fifties appears. He doesn’t smile, but he doesn’t scowl either.
“Anna. We weren’t expecting you,” he says, not looking directly into his daughter’s eyes. Which pisses me off instantly.
I barely recognize Anna’s shaky voice when she answers him, “Y-yeah. I know. I just … I guess I thought I’d come and see you guys. With it being Christmas and all.”
“Christmas was yesterday.” His voice has zero emotion in it.
This guy is like a fucking zombie.
“Yes, I know that, Dad.” She enunciates the word dad. It shouldn’t, but it brings me joy that some of her fire and spark is coming out. These fuckers deserve it. “Since none of you speak to me, I thought I’d come out and see if you were all alive.”
A woman with dark hair and a petite frame appears beside him. Not a single hair out of place on her head. Her clothes, not a wrinkle to be seen. She eyes her daughter over, her eyes landing on her stomach. A disgusted look covers her features. “Well, I see you’ve certainly made something of yourself in New York. Just like I predicted you would.” Her voice drips with venom.
Anna has a resemblance to her dad; it’s subtle, yet it’s there. But this woman and her look nothing alike. I’d say they don’t act alike either.
Thank fuck for that.
Anna continues to fidget beside me, trying to feed her mother some line to make her somehow accept her. Fuck that. I’m the big, bad wolf, and I just showed up at your prissy-asses’ door. And I’ll be fucked if I listen to her be a complete bitch to my girl.
Grabbing Anna’s hand, I clear my throat. “Anna was hoping to see you both. And Fern. Christmas was yesterday, and she’s missing her family. Is that a problem?”
Her cold eyes shift to me as she sizes me up. “My daughter can speak f
or herself. Thank you.” She turns back toward Red before smirking. “Or can you not, Anna?”
Before Anna can answer, I do. “Well, she could, but then you’d be a bitch to her again, so … yeah, not going to happen. She needs to save her energy for more important shit.”
Her face fills with anger, though she tries to hide it behind smugness. “Excuse me?”
I shrug, matching her own cocky, egotistical attitude she’s portraying. “In case your vision is as bad as your attitude, perhaps you haven’t noticed, but Anna here is pregnant. With my baby. The last thing she needs is stress. We came here to check in and for closure. Are you going to give her that? Or do we need to leave?”
A girl—who looks sort of similar to Anna but with long, dark hair—pops out between her parents. She gives Anna a timid smile, though I can tell she’s holding back how excited she actually is to see her sister. No doubt a puppet on strings for her parents. Pathetic.
She gives a short wave. “Hello, Anna. I hope you had a good Christmas. Mom, Dad … why don’t we invite them in?”
The she-devil—I mean, her mother, Evelyn, I’ve been told her name is—mumbles, “Fine.”
I don’t miss the putrid look on her face about it though. The dad just shrugs and walks into the house.
I nudge Anna lightly. “Tough crowd, eh?”
She ignores my attempt at a joke and slowly pushes her feet inside. Watching how she is in this house, around her family, I know I fucked up by suggesting we come here. Every ounce of her is slowly getting pulled away. She’s morphing into a stranger.
fifty-two
Anna
We all gather in the sitting area. I’m wondering why in the hell I thought it would be a good idea to come here. Why did I think it would help with the internal battles I’ve been having with myself? My mother’s energy is so cold and dark. And my dad, well, as usual, he’s just blank. Sometimes, he hurts me more just by being distant. I never know how he’s feeling. Or why he’s never tried to build a relationship with me.