by Sadie Grubor
"Mia," I answer, knowing what he wants, but the wanton woman in me deciding to drive him mad.
He pulls back and slams into me again.
"Tell me your name, baby?" This time, he follows the question with a nip at my chin.
"Amelia," I respond.
Chris growls and pulls back.
I tense, anticipating the thrust I want so badly, but it doesn't come.
Furrowing my brow, I drop my chin and meet his eyes.
Bringing one hand up, he grips my chin.
"What's your fucking name, Mia?"
His jaw clenches, the muscle ticking. Fuck, it's so hot.
"Amelia…" I pause, earning a hard squeeze to my ass.
"Marie…" This time, I earn a jaw muscle twitch and fingers tightening on my chin. Not painfully, just making their presence known.
"Mason." I barely get the N out before his mouth engulfs mine.
"Say it again, baby," he begs, panting against my lips.
"Mrs. Christopher Mason," I surrender.
He finally thrusts deep, and hard.
"Again," he demands, releasing my chin and returning his hand to my ass.
"Amelia Marie Mason," I comply.
His hips start moving in a primitive rhythm between my thighs.
"Angel," he whispers into my neck.
"It's Mrs. Mason to you," I say around groans as my body climbs toward bliss.
"Fuck, baby, I love you so much," he growls, moving his hips faster, harder, setting the perfect pace.
My head falls back against the wall and I push my hips forward, raking my nails over his shoulders. I want him to climb inside my body—I need more, my body just needs...
Chris pushes a long finger between the cheeks of my ass, applying pressure at the entrance.
"Please," I cry, so close, so ready.
"Does my wife want her ass fingered?" He accentuates the question by licking my collarbone.
"Yes," I shout, right on the edge, the precipice.
His longer finger penetrates me, sending my body into an ecstasy freefall.
"Oh my God," I scream.
The pace of his thrusts increase, fucking me fast and hard, riding my orgasm until he's wrung every shudder and spasm out of me.
Panting, I relax my flexed fingers, taking my nails out of his skin. Content warmth settles over me.
"I'm not done with you, Mrs. Mason," Chris growls.
Pulling me away from the wall, he takes us to the bed, never disconnecting from me. His thrusts resume the moment my back touches the mattress.
"It's your turn, baby," I coo, running my hands through his hair.
"You're going to give it up again, angel," he pants.
"Baby, you—”
He takes my nipple into his mouth, rolling his piercing over the tip. Using his teeth and tongue ring, he pinches the pebble, causing my pussy to clench around him as tingles travel through me.
He releases me from his mouth and grins down at me.
"You're going to give it up again."
Pushing up to his knees, he pulls out, rolls my body, and enters me from behind.
"Chris," I gasp as he pulls me onto all fours. His hips piston back and forth, his cock in and out, the sound of our skin smacking, heavy breathing, and moans filling the room.
"Chest to the bed, baby."
Placing his palm between my shoulder blades, he presses me to the bed and slides his hand back along my spine until he reaches my ass. One slap to my right cheek makes me tighten around him again and sends a pulse to my clit.
He moves his hand from my hip and leans forward, slipping a finger over the bundle of nerves he's coaxed back life. Rubbing and pinching, my hips jerk reflexively.
Pushing back into his thrusts, he flicks my clit—hard.
"Oh, fuck," I cry out, surprised at the new sensation, and completely turned on.
He does it again, earning another cry from me.
My body escalates in a rush of heat and desperation. Slamming back into his thrusts harder, I scream his name.
"That's it," he calls out.
Straightening his back and gripping my hips, he rides me through my second orgasm.
"Fuck, baby," he shouts, slamming once, twice, and on the third, stilling and grinding against me.
His sweaty forehead presses to my back as the sound of our panting fills the room.
It takes less than two hours for the phone calls and text alerts to start. The TV gossip shows highlight the shotgun nuptials from last night.
"We didn't plan it. It…it just happened," I explain to my hurt father.
"I was going to walk you down the aisle, just like your sister," he grumbles.
"And you still will, I promise. We're still having the wedding."
Guilt eats away at me, causing a sharp pain in my chest.
"You sneaky fucks!" Elliott bursts through the bedroom door with his arms spread, wearing a broad grin.
Since I'm wearing Chris' t-shirt and nothing else, I grab the sheet and pull it over my lap.
"What the hell, Elliott?" Chris yells, throwing the comforter over me.
"Dad, I promise, we are walking down that aisle together. This doesn't change anything."
"Other than you're my wife," Chris snaps.
Twisting my head, I glare at him.
"Actually, I'm here to let you both in on something." Elliott throws himself onto the bed, jolting me.
"What the hell are you talking about? And get off the bed!" Chris shouts, using a foot to shove him.
Elliott grabs Chris' ankle under his armpit, locking it there.
"I'm about to rock your world, Captain Emo, but you ain't married. Boom!" He releases the ankle.
"What do you mean?" I drop my cell from my ear.
"You're a liar," Chris growls. "I was there, asshole. The chapel did the ceremony."
Elliott pushes up from the bed, crossing his arms over his chest.
"Yeah, but you forgot an important detail called the marriage license. If you answered your phone, Una would be able to tell you there is no marriage recorded. The chapel can't issue the license. You two," he motions between us, "are still going to hell for living in sin."
"She would've called me," Chris clips, narrowing his eyes.
"She's been trying to call you," Serena says, stepping into the room.
She sits on the bed at my feet.
Chris starts scrambling around for his phone, finding it buried under the blanket. His face wipes clear of emotion.
"Ha!" Elliott exclaims. "I told you. You can have a ceremony all you want, but without the license from the bureau, it's all just show."
"So, we aren't married?" I ask, looking at Chris.
Cell phone to his ear, he slowly turns to me. He gives a headshake and looks away, furrowing his brow.
Putting my phone back to my ear, I croak, "Dad?"
"I heard," he says, low. "I'm sorry, baby."
Tears sting my eyes as realization sets in. I'm not Christopher's wife. Even knowing that we'll be married next week, it still hurts. It's crushing.
Chapter Five
Christopher
"Baby?" I knock on the door again and try the handle. "You okay?"
"Yeah," she groans. "I'll be out in a minute."
Gripping the top of the doorframe, I press my forehead to the door.
"I hate that you aren't feeling well. And I hate that you locked the goddamn door," I say, irritated she's locked me out. She only does it when she's mad and trying to keep me away. Since we returned from Vegas, she's done it twice, and I sure as fuck haven't done anything. I've been a goddamn saint.
"Sometimes, Chris, a girl needs her privacy," she says as the door opens.
"For what?" I don't move out of the doorway. "I've seen everything and every part of you. There's no need to hide when you're sick."
"Okay," she concedes, patting my chest.
I narrow my eyes on her, suspicious. She gave up way too easily.
"Wha
t's going on?"
Mia takes a deep breath and exhales before saying, "Christopher, I'm tired, feel sick, and have to get ready for a bridal shower."
She shoves by me.
I drop my arms from the frame and turn, watching her move around our bedroom.
"I don't have the energy to discuss why most humans like a private moment every now and again," she sighs, and I immediately feel guilty for giving her shit.
Sitting on the bed, she leans back on her hands.
"I swear to God, if I didn't know you had the vasectomy, I'd think I was pregnant," she says with a humorless laugh.
Ice runs through my veins.
"Why would you think that?" There's no way to hide the panic in my words.
"Because this reminds me of morning sickness, but it's not."
Sitting forward and pushing off the bed, Mia walks to the closet.
"Are you sure?" My mouth goes dry. "You're absolutely certain?"
Turning away from her clothes, she looks up at me, her brow furrowed.
"You had a vasectomy. Why are you—?”
"You're still on birth control, too, right?"
Her face twists with confusion.
"No, and I told I—"
"What do you mean no?" I shout, clenching my hands into fists.
"Christopher," she exclaims, "what the hell is your problem?"
"Why the fuck would you just stop taking birth control and not tell me about it? Christ, Mia!"
Bringing my hands to my head, I grip my hair and start pacing.
"Whoa, wait a minute. When I was in New York a few months ago, I told you I missed my shot because I was in the city longer than expected. We talked about it over the phone, right before you asked me what I was wearing."
"You distracted me," I accuse.
"The vasectomy is—"
"I didn't get it," I blurt out angrily.
Stopping in front of her, I drop my hand from my head.
"Jackson and I were in the studio. We got caught up and I missed the appointment," I confess.
Mia's eyes grow large and her mouth parts as her hands go to her stomach.
"Fuck," I shout, causing her to jump.
"Shit, I'm sorry," I apologize, pulling her against my chest.
"Why didn't you tell me?" she whispers.
"I forgot about it," I ground out. "I can't believe you quit taking fucking birth control without talking to me about it."
Mia jerks out of my arms and pokes a finger into my chest.
"You can't believe me?" she exclaims, turning the finger on herself. "You didn't tell me about missing the surgery, Chris. That's all on you. We did talk about my shot, but you were too fucking concerned with having phone sex," she shouts, eyes blazing and cheeks flushed.
She's fucking gorgeous.
"And now…" she pauses, placing her hand back on her stomach and lowering her voice, "now I might be pregnant."
Mia might be pregnant. My chest constricts as images from the hospital swim in my mind, blurring my vision.
"You can't have another baby," I demand, shaking my head.
Her fiery eyes narrow on my face.
"I'm serious, Mia. I won't risk losing you."
Pain lances my chest. I can't breathe. Dropping to my knees, I grab onto her hips and shove my face into her stomach.
"Don't make me risk you," I plead. "I can't lose you."
Fisting the material at her sides, I press into her further. She sways, gripping my shoulder for balance.
"Chris," she sighs.
Biting my lip, I fight off the memories of her screaming in pain, the flurry of nurses, doctors rushing her away from me…
"Christopher." Mia's hands come to my head.
Her fingers run through my hair, distracting me from the dark depths of my mind.
"Baby, we don't even know if I'm pregnant," she soothes.
"But what if you are?" Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath.
"Chris, look at me."
On her order, I look up.
Cupping my face, her eyes bore into mine.
"You were in a bad place and the day was a lot for you to handle, but it wasn't—"
"I remember how—"
"It wasn't as bad as you remember it," she adds over me.
"The hell it wasn't!"
Releasing her legs, I stand. Her hands fall away from me, coming to rest at her sides.
"You were in horrible pain, you blacked out, and they had to rush you into emergency surgery so you didn't die," I remind her.
She shakes her head.
"Chris, an emergency C-section is pretty standard." She puts a hand up when I open my mouth to argue. "Stop. Let me finish."
I close my mouth, crossing my arms over my chest.
"It was painful and scary, but the nurses and doctors had things under control." Mia paces away from me, rubbing the back of her neck. "You aren't going to like hearing this, but…" she turns to face me, "you weren't mentally prepared to deal with all of that. You are way beyond that now."
Shaking my head, I grind my teeth.
If she thinks for one second I'll let her have this baby, she's lost her fucking mind.
"You've worked so hard to grow beyond that, so if—and this is a big if—I am pregnant, you can handle it. We can handle it. If we have to, we'll all sit with Dr. J."
"You aren't having another baby," I say, raising my chin.
Any understanding or compassion melts from her face.
"Oh, really?" Her arms cross over her chest.
"Yes, really, Mia," I growl.
"What are you going to do, Chris?" She raises a brow, challenging me. "You going to push me down some stairs, punch me in the stomach, or what?"
The shock of her question is like a kick in the balls.
"Why the fuck would you say that?" Brow furrowed, I drop my arms. "I would never hurt you and you fucking know that," I shout, hurt she would say such a thing.
"Exactly," she grounds out. "You can't stop me from having—" She growls, throwing her arms in the air, "Christ, we don't even know if there is a baby." Covering her face with her hands, she takes three deep breaths before dropping them away.
Eyes closed, she says, "Chris, I want to be understanding, but you are making it difficult." Opening them, she finishes, "I won't get rid of our baby if there is one."
All the anger and fear rushes out of my body, realizing what she's saying and what I've been demanding of her. Am I really asking her to get rid of our baby?
Nausea swirls in my gut and I step toward her.
Her arm comes out, halting me.
"I need you to go," she says, her voice leaving no room to argue. "I'll meet you at Gwen and Nic's."
"Mia–"
She turns away and walks back into the bathroom, closing the door on me.
Pacing my studio, I check my phone for the tenth goddamn time before tossing it on the couch. The minute it hits, Crazy Train starts to play: Dr. J's ringtone.
Snatching it up, I tap the screen.
"It's about fucking time," I answer.
"I'm good, Chris, how are you?" Dr. J replies.
"I'm a fucking disaster." The truth of the words forces me to collapse onto the couch.
"What happened?" he asks, going straight into doctor mode.
"I almost demanded Mia get an abortion and she's fucking furious. She shut me out and won't let me—"
"Whoa, start from the beginning," Dr. J interrupts.
Bouncing my leg, I swallow down my emotions and confess everything. A few moments after I finish, Dr. J still hasn’t responded. Frustrated, I growl and throw myself back into the couch, closing my eyes.
"Why didn't you tell Mia about missing your appointment?"
"What?" Opening my eyes, I furrow my brow at the ceiling. "That's what you took from all of that?"
Dr. J sighs through the phone.
"Chris, you aren't even sure the two of you are expecting. The fact that you sort of lost it isn't surprisi
ng. Maggie's birth was a traumatic experience for you, for everyone. So, while your behavior today was handled poorly, it's understandable."
"But, Mia won't—"
"It sounds like Mia tried, Chris, but you couldn't get over the memory," he says, cutting me off.
"And she made a very valid point. Things are different now. You are in a much better place. Mia's previous delivery is on record and can be monitored from the start. And, if she is indeed pregnant, you cannot force your will on her."
"I'm not trying to force my will," I deny.
"Now, what I'm most interested in is why didn't you tell Mia," he says, ignoring me.
I groan, annoyed.
"I don't fucking know. She never asked, so I just didn't think about it. I mean, why wouldn't she ask about something like that, doc? It's my goddamn balls."
"Let's not redirect the fault to Mia." Dr. J's been on a new kick lately with this redirection bullshit.
"I'm not redirecting," I defend.
"Oh, really? So, you aren't making your omission Mia's fault, or at least assigning some of the blame to her?"
Damn him.
"I hate you," I grumble.
"Good, it means I'm doing my job. Now, I want you to think about why you, someone who has been so adamant about no more pregnancies, fails to mention not getting a procedure that would ninety-nine percent assure him. It could be pure fear or something a bit deeper, so I want you to think about it and we'll discuss it later this week."
"So, I'm supposed to spend the rest of the week before my wedding soul searching to make sure of…what?"
"It's not to make sure of anything," Dr. J says. "This is about exploring the reason and need to keep the secret before we further discuss the variables."
"You get shrinkier as you get older, you know that?"
He barks out a laughs.
"I'll see you in a few hours, Christopher," he says, confirming he'll be at the wedding shower brunch Gwen planned.
"Yeah," I clip and end the call.
Refusing to drive off on my own, I lean against the dark green Jeep Cherokee Mia insisted on purchasing. I won't admit it to her, but the damn thing is perfect for the terrain and weather.
