Undeniably Married (Boston’s Irresistible Billionaires Book 4)
Undeniably Married: Chapter 31

Mmm. I sink a little lower under the blankets, feeling warm and soft and quite possibly having the best dream I’ve ever had. My eyes pinch closed, trying to chase it when I feel it momentarily slip away. A rush of cool air hits my wet clit, and I gasp. My eyes flash open, and I rip the covers up and peer beneath them.

Mason is between my spread thighs, a naughty smirk on his face as he blows cool air on me again. My lips part, and a moan slips out. “I thought it was a dream.” My fingers rake through the thick strands of his hair, and I hum in pleasure.

“Not a dream,” he promises. “Though I woke up hard just thinking about doing this. You have no idea how fucking good your pussy tastes right now.”

“Is this what being with a younger man is like? If it is, I’ve been missing out all these years.”

“Yes” is all he says as he rings my clit with the tip of his tongue.

“I want to see how hard you are.”

The blankets slide down my body and get tossed away. Cool air tickles my skin, and I shiver ever so slightly.

“You want to see how hard you make me?”

“I was hoping I could feel how hard I make you. With my mouth.”

He groans and shifts around to remove his boxer briefs and climbs up onto his knees, his hard cock smacking against his stomach. I lick my lips and reach out to run my hands up and down his firm abs before I grip his cock in my fist. He wheezes out a sharp breath, but his eyes are glued to my hand as I slowly jerk him.

“I love how that feels.”

“You’ll love how it feels more in my mouth.”

He flashes up to me. “Lie back, and I’ll feed it to you while I eat your cunt.”

I swear, the mouth on this man is unlike any other. Sometimes it’s just the things he says. Like he’s not even trying to be dirty or get me off with it. It’s just how his mind works, and I’m so here for it.

Speaking of…

I lie back, the Pixies’, “Here Comes Your Man” pops into my head, and I giggle lightly.

Mason’s face appears over mine with a questioning eyebrow raised.

“I have a weird mind,” I explain.

He kisses my lips. “I love your weird mind. Share it with me.”

“I had ‘Here Comes Your Man’ in my head.”

He smirks. “Better that than ‘Smells Like Teen Spirit.’”

I crack up. “Stop! I’ll never get Nirvana out of my head now.”

“Open your mouth, beautiful. I’ll fill your head with something better.”

Mason’s thighs straddle my face, and I grab his dick in my hand and lick around his crown and into his slit. He hisses out a curse, but then I feel his hot breath on my skin, and I sigh in delight.

I’ve been doing everything I can not to think forward—something that is nearly impossible for me—and live in the moment with Mason. I’m ten weeks pregnant, I’m feeling good besides the occasional morning sickness and random bouts of dizziness, and other than when Brody called last week and spoke to Mason, I haven’t heard from him. He didn’t even bother to call back. He said he needed more time, but how much freaking time is more time? I want this baby to have a father, but more than that, I want it surrounded by love.

Brody is not love. Mason is.

A point he proves when he kisses my lower belly. He does it every time now before we get seriously physical. It’s almost an apology to the baby, which never fails to make me smile. Like, I’m sorry I’m about to do this to your mother, and please forgive me.

It’s so cute, and I eat it up with a spoon.

I’m not sure I’ve ever been this happy with anyone. With Brody, I always felt stressed and not good enough. I never felt comfortable being me or sharing my weird mind with him because he didn’t get it, and he didn’t try to. He expected me to accommodate him, and I did for reasons I can’t even explain now. I shouldn’t have had to change who I am. Not for anyone.

And with Mason, I don’t even think about it. I’m me and he’s him and it works. It’s effortless. We like each other’s weird. It’s perfect, and it’s what makes us perfect together. He’s thoughtful and considerate and prioritizes me and my work and my needs, and in return, I do the same with him. Maybe it’s true what they say, friends make the best lovers.

With my hand gripping his cock, I slide it all the way down my throat, past my comfort point until I start to gag. I try to swallow, but I haven’t mastered the art yet, and it comes out sloppy. Mason doesn’t care. He’s licking my pussy like it’s his favorite breakfast. His mouth and tongue devour me, and it’s nearly impossible to give him anything resembling a halfway decent blow job with what he’s doing. I want to blow his mind—literally. I want him to come straight down my throat. I want him to think this is the best blow job he’s ever gotten. I want to suck his cock straight down my throat until his eyes fall back into his head.

But the way he’s eating me makes that damn near impossible.

How can I focus on both things at once?

I attempt to center my attention on his dick. And his balls. I suck his cock like a prize whore—which, straight facts, turns me on. I lick and play and use my fingers to play with his balls, perineum, and even rectum. I may be boring, but I know enough to know that playing with a guy’s ass or the space right behind his balls will have him lose his mind.

But all the while I work his hot, thick, large dick, he’s all about my pussy. Or cunt as he likes to call it, and I think he only does that to catch me blushing at him.

Regardless of whether I’m focused or not, I can’t help but moan and writhe and seek to take him deeper. His mouth. His fucking mouth! It’s everything. And so good.

I grab the back of his upper thigh, hold on to his tight muscles, and go down on him. Or up in this case since his cock is above my mouth. The way he moans and pumps and fucks into me with renewed exuberance has me spinning. Two fingers slip straight inside of me and start to thrust right against my front wall while his tongue works my clit like a master violinist working his instrument.

“Princess. Fuck.”

I can’t even respond as I flatten my tongue and glide it up and down every veiny ridge and sensitive place. With my hand on his ass, I drive him in deeper, forcing my cheeks to hollow and my mouth to suck him as hard as I can the moment he hits the back of my throat. With that, the sounds coming from him are next level. It’s such a power high. Such a trip. It doesn’t matter that I’m gagging and drooling and fighting for air. I have tears streaming down my cheeks, and the back of my throat is on fire as he starts to pump faster into my mouth.

He’s barely hanging on. His thighs are trembling, and his hands playing with me are unsure as his mouth gets lost with every deep pull I make. His cock grows thicker, longer, and I have to stretch my lips and throat to get him there while I do my best to breathe through my nose and not panic. I relax my throat and force a swallow.

A low groan vibrates from his lips straight into me. With his mouth and fingers working my pussy, sucking my clit, and fucking me, it makes me pliable, soft, and excited. My orgasm starts to build within me, and I moan.

“Fuck!” he hisses, and I do it again, moaning louder and increasing the timbre of my vibration every time he drives in deep between my lips. Especially with how he’s now gripping my hip and pumping into my mouth like he can’t help himself. His control is completely frayed. It’s so freaking hot.

I bob my head up and down, increasing the suction in my mouth all the while his lips and tongue drive me up higher and higher. I swear, since I’ve become pregnant, there is no part of my body that isn’t a live wire, and Mason knows exactly how to turn electricity into an explosion. His mouth devours me, thrusting up and into my pussy, fucking me in the same rhythm I’m sucking him, and I lose it.

I come so hard that it shocks me. My coordination is shot, and I find myself gasping for air, unable to keep his cock in my mouth. I grip it with my fist instead and jerk and jerk and jerk him so fast and hard he doesn’t stand a chance. He comes with me on a roar, shooting straight onto my upper chest, neck, and face.

It surges my orgasm, and I’m so lost in the sensation of it all.

My eyes are closed, and I lie here in a happy stupor only to feel his lips against mine.

Reluctantly, I peek one eye open and find Mason’s goofy, happy grin right above me. “You look so hot sprayed with my cum.”

I smirk. “And you look so hot with my cum all over your lips.”

He smiles and licks his lips. “Shower time, princess. We have an appointment soon.”

“Can I ask you something?” Mason drawls as he holds my hand, and we head through the lobby of the hospital toward the elevators.

I’m quietly scanning around, hoping we don’t run into anyone I know. I have a lot of family who works here at Brigham, but Katy told me her OB was amazing, and since I don’t want to be part of my family’s practice at my hospital, this seemed like the next best choice.

Other than my parents and grandparents knowing, I’ve sworn them to secrecy. Nothing is for sure with a pregnancy. A ton can go wrong at any given time—being a doctor sucks like that because we know too much—but I wanted to wait until I was a bit farther along to tell everyone as the risk of miscarriage goes down the closer you are to your second trimester.

“What’s that?” I reply absently.

“Are you getting the NIPT test done today?”

That catches my attention and I turn to look at him. “How do you know what a NIPT test is?”

“I’ve been reading, Sorel,” he says dismissively as if the answer should be obvious.

I stare at his profile, utterly bewildered. “You’ve been reading about pregnancy?”

“We are pregnant, are we not?”

My heart tugs in my chest. “Yes, we are.” I reach up and kiss his cheek, but he’s still not smiling, which isn’t like Mason.

“So are you?” He presses the button for the elevator.

“Um, likely. They’ll draw a bunch of blood to check for chromosomal abnormalities, and then around twelve weeks, I’ll have an ultrasound with maternal-fetal medicine for further screening. Then, at twenty weeks, I’ll have a complete fetal survey ultrasound.”

He swallows and nods, but there’s something else on his mind. Something he wants to ask but isn’t for some reason.

“Do you have questions about that?” I query as we step onto the elevator and shuffle to the back. Mason is wearing a baseball cap and is keeping his head down, but the man is six foot five or something insanely tall like that and is all muscle. He stands out in a crowd no matter what.

He leans down and whispers by my ear. “I was just wondering if you were planning to find out the baby’s sex.”

Oh. “I hadn’t thought much about that yet.” I glance up at him, but his eyes aren’t on me. He’s nervous, and I don’t quite understand why. He’s been a bit, I don’t know, cautious with me over the last couple of weeks. He’s still Mason, loving, sweet, affectionate, but there’s been something lingering within him too. I haven’t pressed it, figuring if he wanted to talk about it, he would. I know the stuff with Brody is heavy on his shoulders as well as his focus is on his football season.

“Did you want to know?” I whisper back.

He shifts his weight as the elevator comes to a stop. He’s getting a few squinty-eyed looks, and this isn’t the best place to talk about this. Especially since we haven’t announced anything yet, and when we do, the questions and drama with it will be off the charts. I’m avoiding that. I’m actually dreading it like the plague. Mason suggested after this appointment that we schedule a meeting with his PR people to discuss what statement we plan to make publicly.

That all sounds good in theory, but it’s going to be messy, and I don’t know what to say about Brody being the father. I feel like I need to talk to him again about it and make sure he’s folded his hand. I mean, that’s how it feels since I haven’t talked to him again after he told me he needed some more time, but Brody is strange. He’s not always overt, and per Mason, he’s waiting for me to come to my senses and move to New York.

I don’t know.

It feels like something is brewing with him, and I don’t like it. If he doesn’t want the baby, I want him to relinquish his parental rights. I don’t want him to come back out of spite or something and try to fight for the baby. I also don’t want to call and nag for an answer. Being a father isn’t a small undertaking, and the last time I spoke to him, I explained that if he wanted to be in the baby’s life, that meant being a dad to it. Not just a distant person who was in and out of their life when it suited him.

A few people get off the elevator, and everyone shifts around. Mason wraps his arm around me and brings me in close. “I’d like to know, but ultimately it’s your call.”

Oh, Mason.

Our floor is next, so I wait until we’re off the elevator, and I bring him down to the end of the hall where the stairs are instead of going toward the office. I place my hand on his chest and stare up at him.

“I think it’s our decision, not just mine. Right?” I check. I don’t think he’s having second thoughts. The man is reading baby books and kissed my belly this morning before he went down on me. My gut says he’s not. I think he’s nervous about overstepping, and for about the millionth time in the last three weeks, I wish this baby were biologically his.

“You sure?”

My forehead scrunches. “Why are you asking that?”

He blusters out a sigh, his hand dragging through his hair in frustration. “Just some of the stuff Brody said to me.”

“What did he say? More than what you told me?”

“Just shit talking about us. It’s not important and I shouldn’t let him get to me.”

“No, you shouldn’t.” I step into him. “Do you want to find out the baby’s sex?”

His lips bounce, and his green eyes brighten. “I’d like to know.”

I reach up on the balls of my feet and place a kiss on his lips. “Then we’ll find out. Either with the blood test or the ultrasound, but it won’t be today. Today is blood work and the heartbeat, which is so cool.”

He wraps his arms around me and drops his face to my neck. “I’m stupidly excited to hear the baby’s heartbeat.” He blows out a breath. “If Brody said he wanted to be the dad, would he be here instead of me?”

I hold the back of his head to me as I start to get choked up, and we’re not even in there yet. Damn him and damn these hormones.

“It’s yours, Mason. I meant it. I know going in there feels like this is all starting to happen for real, but if you’re still in this with me, then I want and value your thoughts and input on everything. As for Brody, I don’t know. I think we’re both going to have to take that as it comes. If it comes. But regardless, you’re the one I want in there with me. I don’t know what he said to you, but I know that whatever it was, he was lying. I love you. Not him. He was a two-year mistake and you’re the guy I wish I had seen all along.”

He squeezes me tighter. “I love you. I love you so fucking much.” His hand meets my lower belly. “Thank you for being perfect for me and for saying all of that. Let’s go hear our baby’s heartbeat.”

His lips press to mine, and then he retakes my hand, and we go into the waiting room of the OB’s office. Except this is Mason Reyes, and with his celebrity status, they immediately bring us back and put us in a room. I appreciate it more than I can say, and I can tell Mason does too.

I get changed, and a few minutes later, the doctor comes in and introduces herself to us. She gives Mason a quick double take, and I catch her cheeks flushing. I can’t even blame her for it. Thank goodness for HIPAA, or this secret we’re carrying would already be out there.

She morphs quickly into business mode and asks us a bunch of questions. This is where it gets tricky, and it’s going to be the problem. I don’t know a lot of Brody’s family history. He has his dad, but his mom died when he was young of a rare stomach cancer. Other than that, I don’t know much about his family history.

Then there’s this…

“The baby’s not actually mine,” Mason supplies, and I can see it guts him to say it.

I have to hand it to our doctor. She simply nods and continues without missing a beat. But I can feel it sitting on Mason’s chest, and I know he’s hurting from it. We have a long way to go with this pregnancy and a lot of ways this relationship could go—after all, we’ve only been together a few weeks—but if it continues on this course, I think I have an idea that could help.

“Are you ready to hear your baby’s heartbeat?” she asks, and Mason moves in closer to my head, wrapping himself partially around me. I’m starting to get a bump. Not a big one yet, more like I’m super bloated, but when I’m supine, I can really see it. Most of the time, the softness of my regular tummy hides it. Not right now.

“Definitely,” I exclaim.

She squeezes a dollop of warm lubricant and pulls out her doppler. Using the diaphragm of the probe, she presses it right into the lube, and immediately a loud, squeaky noise screeches through the room, making both Mason and me wince slightly.

“Sorry about that.” She laughs. “Sometimes I forget to turn the sound back down.”

The probe moves around. More of the scratchy noise taunts us, but then the sound of a hummingbird’s wings, fast and fluttery, fills the room. Mentally, I start to count the beats even as the doctor says, “One hundred forty-eight. Sounds good. Nice and strong.”

“Is it supposed to be that fast?”

I look at Mason, whose jaw is hanging open, his face filled with wonder. “Yep. Pretty incredible, right?”

Mason’s eyes hold mine as his hand drags across my cheek. “Incredible. Like our baby’s mom.” He leans in and kisses me, and I sigh. I need to talk to Brody.