1 MASON
1
MASON
“All right, little man, here’s the deal.” I hold his chest in the palm of my hand and thrust him up into the air, smiling along with him as he sucks in a deep breath and lets out his version of a giggle. “There’s a few things you’re gonna need to learn how to do.” My elbow bends, and I bring him back down to me to kiss the tip of his nose this time before I thrust him back up into the air. “One is peeing in your diaper and not when we take it off.” I drop him back to me and get his forehead before I repeat the motion. “Two is not puking up all the milk you drink.”
As if to punctuate my point, he makes a noise, and before I can react, his little body jerks and he splatters my arm with hot, white, awful smelling milk vomit.
“Two needs some work, buddy. A lot of work.” Gross. Though at this point, I should be used to it. It’s why I’m shirtless half the time. Well, that and my woman loves me shirtless.
I bring him down and roll half on my side so I can lie him on his play mat and get myself cleaned up. The baby wipe is cold, and I shiver and make a noise I’d never want anyone else to hear me make—he’s a baby, he’s not telling anyone—and then swipe my shoulder with his burp cloth to finish the job.
I curl up next to him on the floor with a yawn. “Remind me next time to wait a full hour after you’ve eaten to bench press you. Thirty minutes is not sufficient. At least you didn’t get your”—he turns red, tenses up, and an ominous noise comes from inside his onesie—“outfit,” I finish with a sigh. “Who knew babies had so many… functions.”
I scrunch my nose and lift Nolan off the mat so I can change his diaper.
“Now I mean it this time,” I tell him as I set him down on the changing table in his playroom. “Real men pee in a diaper or, when you’re older, a toilet or the woods when no one else can see. Not on the walls or on Mommy, and definitely not on Daddy. Got it?” I check as I start to unsnap him.
Slow, so slowly, I unpeel the tabs on either side of his little diaper and carefully peek in at what’s waiting for me. Nothing good, that’s what, but it’s really more his waterworks I’m trying to avoid.
At the speed of light, I pull the diaper, clean him up, and get him into a new diaper.
“Phew!” I smile in relief. “We did it. Nice.” I take his arm and bring my fist to his. “See? Isn’t that better?”
I put him back in his onesie and carry us both down to the floor, keeping him on my chest as I lie back and close my eyes. I’m exhausted. Sorel is exhausted too, but my poor princess also has mastitis and a solid fever to go with it. She’s been pumping and nursing, but I’ve been letting her rest as much as she can. Nolan isn’t so interested in letting anyone rest. For three-and-a-half months old, the dude does not like sleep.
It's nearly seven in the morning, and I’ve been trying for the last two hours to tucker him out, but to no avail. I need caffeine. Serious fucking caffeine, but unfortunately with training camp starting in a little over a week, that’s a no-go for me.
It’s also my and Sorel’s anniversary tonight. Well, our Vegas anniversary, and I had finally convinced her to let our parents watch the baby for one night so I could take her away—just to Cape Cod so we’re not far—and then she got mastitis.
Still, despite the adjustments to life with a newborn over the last few months, they’ve been the best of my life. This last year has been the best of my life, and I wouldn’t change any of it. I had a whole romantic—and sexy as fuck—night planned for my wife, but I’ll happily take some snuggle time in front of the TV and a full night of sleep.
My hand rubs Nolan’s back, and he emits a small burp and then snuggles in.
“Was that it, buddy? Was your tummy upset? Now that you’ve puked, pooped, and burped, maybe we can get a few hours of sleep. What do you think?” I roll my head and squint an eye open to find his closed. Hallelujah, praise Jesus.
Carefully, I curl to a sitting position, keeping him locked against my chest, and get myself up to my feet. I pad down the hall and into his room, where I deposit him gently into his crib. He stirs, his arms flailing up as he starts, but before he can utter a cry, he’s back under, and I blow out the breath I had been holding.
Sleep. Oh, how I need you.
I rub the top of my head, yawning as I head into my room. The lights are out, and the air is still and dark with only a tiny stirring of Sorel’s heavy breathing. Vegas is passed out beside Sorel as if he’s been doing heavy baby lifting as well. Newsflash: he hasn’t. He’s just as much of an attention whore as our son is. I shove him down, and he moves to the end of the bed, giving me space to work with.
The cool sheets beckon me, and the moment my back hits them and the blanket swings over my body, I’m out like a light, only to wake up who knows how much later to warm, soft kisses on my neck.
“I’m dreaming,” I hum and shift so I can sink deeper into the feel of Sorel’s mouth.
“Yes,” she purrs in my ear. “You’re still asleep, and this is all a dream.”
A smile curls up my lips. “Why does it sound like you’re getting sexy with me?”
Fingers meet my chest and slowly walk down toward my hardening cock.
“Because this is your dream, not reality.”
“Shit,” I hiss when she grabs my dick over my briefs. “Fuck that feels good. This might be the best dream I’ve ever had.”
“Mason,” she sighs against my skin as her kisses continue to trail up my neck.
“Yes, baby.”
“Mason, wake up. You’re moaning in your sleep, and your parents will be here in ten minutes to pick up the baby.”
“What?” My eyes snap open, and my head swivels frantically around. Sorel is standing on the other side of the bed, freshly showered with her shoulder-length hair still wet. She looks better though. I blink and blink again. “You’re kidding me?”
“Kidding you about what? Your parents? No.”
“No, that I was actually…” I shake my head and scrub my hands up and down my face, my cock painfully hard but starting to soften now that it’s gotten the message and heard the word parents. “Never mind.” I sit up and take in my beautiful wife. “How are you feeling?”
“Better,” she says with a smile I haven’t seen on her face in a few days. “The antibiotics are kicking in, and with my last feeding, I felt more of the clogged duct open up. God, it was better than an orgasm.”
Hmm. Ha. My dick doesn’t find that funny right now. That was the most realistic dream I’ve ever had, and over these last few months, we haven’t exactly had a ton of sex. I mean, we have, but not nearly what we were having while she was pregnant, which was essentially marathon sex.
The doorbell rings, Vegas barks, a bit overexcited to see his grandparents, and she huffs. “They’re early.”
“They’re always early when they come to pick him up.”
“I know. I just wanted more time with him before they take him. We haven’t left him overnight yet.”
I climb out of bed and wrap my arms around her so I can breathe in the scent of her skin. “It’ll be okay. He’ll be fine, and it’ll be good for us too.”
“I know. I know all of this. It’s just…”
“Tough. I want to and don’t want to.”
“Right. Exactly.”
I kiss her neck, and she turns to hug me. “Get dressed. I’ll let your parents in. They’re heading straight over to my parents’ place for dinner. I’d also bet money Stella and Delphine will be there.”
“Then Nolan and Vegas will have plenty to keep themselves occupied, and I’ll have plenty to keep you occupied now that you’re feeling better.”
Her eyes brighten. “Oh, like dinner and HGTV?” She’s far too jazzed by that prospect.
“Uh-huh.” Or, you know, hot, hot sexy sex.
With an excited squeal and a kiss on my cheek, she runs off, and I stare down at my poor dick.
“Looks like it could be a slow night for us.”
I throw on some clothes and come out to say hi to my parents, who have no time or patience for me as they’re all over Nolan, peppering my son with hugs and kisses and coos.
My dad signs, You look like shit. I laugh. I likely do. You better be ready next week.
I flip him off, and he chuckles.
“Go enjoy your night,” my mother tells us, holding the baby like she’s never going to let go. “We’ve got him, and your parents have the dog. It’ll be great. We promise.”
Sorel looks like she’s about to break into tears, and even I’m getting this pulling sensation to grab the baby and bring him back into our room. How do parents do this? If it’s this bad now, he’ll never be able to leave for college.
“Right. Um.”
“Here.”
My mother hands Sorel back the baby, and she tucks him straight against her, holding him tight and kissing him everywhere. I come in beside them and do the same, making him give me a fist pound because that’s our thing.
“We’re going to miss you, little man,” I tell him. “You be good for your grandparents and let them sleep tonight. And remember the conversation we had this morning about peeing and throwing up.”
Sorel throws me a side eye but doesn’t ask questions. I talk to the baby a lot. She already knows this about me. And considering Nolan pukes on everyone he can, it was a conversation worth having.
Vegas barks up at me, and I bend down to give him some love, rubbing his head and ears the way he likes. “We’ll miss you too.”
Sorel and I pepper Nolan with more kisses, but then my parents take him and Vegas, and suddenly the door is closed, and it’s just us. Alone. And it’s quiet. Too quiet.
“Should I run after them?” I ask her, and she shakes her head, though her chin is quivering.
“It’s one night.”
I nod. “One night,” I agree. “I miss him already. Is that lame?”
A tear hits her cheek. “No,” she squeaks.
“Aw, princess.” I gather her against me. “Come shower with me.”
“I already showered.” She pushes me away and wipes her face. “Go shower. You smell like Nolan’s vomit. I’ll order dinner for us from that place you like.”
“This isn’t the anniversary I had planned for us.”
She waves that away. “It’s fine. We’ll do something for our next one in a few months.”
I turn and head for the shower, feeling a little dejected. Maybe she’s still not feeling well or maybe it’s having the baby away from us for the first time. I don’t know. But she seems… off. A little cold even.
I do my best to shrug it off and head for the shower, my heart heavy in a few ways. Still, it’s nice to be able to take a shower without rushing through it, and I enjoy the hot water on my tired muscles. I didn’t work out today, and it’s not a good way to go into the season. Sorel’s mom retired as a middle school teacher and has offered to be our nanny of sorts starting in a few weeks when Sorel returns to work.
I’m grateful for that, and hopefully, the extra set of regular hands makes a difference in everything.
Stepping out of the shower, I run the towel back and forth over my head before I wrap it around my waist. I suppose if we’re staying in front of the TV tonight, I can wear sweats. I turn the corner out of the bathroom and stop dead in my tracks when I find Sorel on our bed. She’s wearing… I have no clue what you call it, but I fucking love it.
Black lace. Straps. Full breasts, soft belly, pretty pussy, barely covered long legs.
Damn.
I lick my lips and take a step forward. “What’s all this?”
She sits up a little, and the angle presses her huge tits together. Fuck, I need to squeeze those.
“You’ve been such a good boy while I was sick, I felt you needed a reward.”
“You did?” Hope springs like my dick under my towel.
“I do.”
She crooks a finger at me, and I practically fly across the room to the bed and jump on top of her. She giggles, sort of killing some of the sexy, dominatrix vibe she had going on, but I don’t care. I need to kiss her, and I need to kiss her now.
My lips devour hers as my hands meet her tits. “Can I touch them?”
“Yes,” she pants.
“I don’t want to hurt you.”
“It won’t if you do it right, but don’t squeeze too hard,” she tells me, and I groan, kissing my way down her neck to them. I have to admit, I’m a lot obsessed with these.
“Fuck, princess, you are so goddamn hot right now, and I’m a second away from blowing my load.”
“But I have toys.”
My head springs up. “Toys?”
She bats her eyelashes playfully at me. “Doesn’t Daddy want to play?”
And I die. My forehead falls to the bed, and I start laughing. “Oh, Daddy wants to play.”
“Then tie me up already and be a good boy and make me come.”
I pop my head up and roll us until she’s straddling my thighs, and I can gaze up at her as my hands run up her sides. “You realize you’re sort of mixing kinks up, right?”
“You realize I didn’t know I had any kinks until last summer, right?”
Hmm. “Do you trust me?”
Her head tilts. “Of course I trust you.”
And the ease in which she says that fucking nails me right in the chest. She trusts me. She means it. Fucking Sorl-I-trust-like-two-people-on-the-planet-Fritz trusts me. I am done. Not to be my wife, but “Turn It On” from the Flaming Lips hits my head, and I start to sing the chorus, making her crack up.
“Oh my god! Stop!”
I grab my sexy vixen wife and pull her up into my arms as I jackknife off the bed. “We’re going outside.”
Her eyes go globe round. “What?”
“I want everyone to hear how hard I get to fuck my wife.”
“No!” She tries to climb out of my arms. “Mason, no.”
I stop short and pull her face to mine. “Yes. You trust me. Remember?”
Her breath hitches. “I trust you.”
Fuck, I will love this woman till my dying breath and beyond.
Without another word, I open our balcony. It’s hot outside. It’s over ninety with what feels like equal humidity, and the sun is high in the summer sky. But our balcony is high up. It’s not completely blocked, but it’s blocked enough. Sort of like the one we fucked on in Vegas. And legit, if someone from below hears us, they won’t see us or know who is making those noises.
“Now, Mrs. Fritz-Reyes, let me see you in this outfit because fuck, you make me so hard.” I grab her hand and rub it over my length, which is still somehow hidden beneath my towel that’s managed to cling on for dear life. “How on earth did I get this lucky?”
Sometimes I honestly don’t know.
It’s not even simply her beauty. It’s her heart and the way she loves and how she shares herself with me when it’s the hardest thing in the world for her to do. I get this piece of her. I get every piece. They’re all mine.
We don’t have a lot of furniture out here. Shame. I’ll have to change that, but for now I set her down in the chair and spread her thighs wide. I need to eat my wife’s pussy because she never moans as loud with anything else. Especially since we’ve had our son. She’s been self-conscious a bit because she’s curvier than she was before she had him and has some stretch marks and whatever else women worry makes them less attractive to us.
She has no clue how gorgeous she is.
I start to play with some of the visible lines on her lower belly, and she tries to shove my hand away.
“Knock it off,” I tell her, staring up into her eyes. “Don’t ever push me away from what’s mine. This is the body that grew our son. This is the body that pushed him out. I fucking love this body. It makes me hot like nothing else.” I kiss the soft, slightly pink lines. “I love all of it.” I get back onto my knees and show her a scar I have on my side. “I got this from a fight with my younger brother one day when I was being a shit. I deserved it. It was a rock, and it hurt. This.” I point to my shoulder. “Is from falling out of a tree which made my mother nuts since she fell out of a tree when she was little and broke her arm the same way. Are my scars ugly?”
She puffs out a breath. “It’s different.”
I shake my head. “It’s not. These scars tell your story as much as these tell mine, and I love your story because it’s our story. Never hide yourself again. Okay?”
She gives me a soft grin. “Okay.”
“My girl. Now spread your thighs wide. As you said, I’ve been a very good boy. I get to have my dessert before my dinner. Now show your world to me.”
That earns me a smirk. Especially on our fake wedding anniversary.
I tug her nothing of a thong to the side and rim her clit with my tongue. She sighs, but that’s not good enough. I suck it in between my lips and flick it with my tongue as my hand rubs up and down her pussy without entering it.
“Ah! Mason.”
It’s a start.
I spit on her pussy, right on her entrance. She doesn’t need it. But I want to shock her. I want to get her head into dirty slut mode. I smack the wet flesh and shove two fingers straight into her.
“Fuck!” she cries, and there we go. Now we’re in this.
My mouth consumes her cunt, licking her so good I’m likely going to be bald at the back of my head by the end of this as she rips and grinds and rolls and says a million incoherent things.
“They can’t hear you yet, baby. I need my princess to be loud. I need everyone to know how good I eat your cunt.”
“Oh. I… I can’t.” I suck her clit like I’m sucking an oyster down my throat. “Ah. Okay. Shit. Hell. Mason!”
There.
My fingers fuck up into her, rubbing her front wall with each thrust. I want her to come like a whore and a goddess. But her pussy tastes so good. She still has all these hormones and I swear they rile me like nothing else. I can’t hold back. I can’t stop myself. I’m a starved man. A man too in love and obsessed with his wife for it to be healthy.
She starts to come, and the feel of it on my lips and fingers is about to make me shoot everywhere, and I can’t have that. I crawl up her body, and with my face inches above hers, I drive my cock straight inside her. My hand creeps up along her throat, and I give her a light squeeze as I start to fuck her right out here on the balcony for anyone to hear.
I smirk.
Because I can hear people, and I know she can too.
They won’t be able to see us, but who wants to focus on that?
“Come on, princess. Fuck me like you mean it.”
And she does.
She fucks up into me with those blazing emerald and chocolate eyes locked on mine. “Make me feel it,” she says to me, so similar to what she said to me that night a year ago. So I do.
I fuck her so she has no choice but to feel it.
But to know people can hear her getting fucked hard on her patio…
“No one sees this pussy but me. No one gets these tits but me.”
“No one,” she promises, her body rocking and pumping with mine. “Not ever.”
But now it’s so much more than fucking. It’s her body. It’s mine. It’s ours. It’s us.
And when she starts to come, I can’t help but let go and come with her. Knowing that it’s only me who heard her, who has her, who owns her. And forever, it’s her, my girl, my world, who owns all of me.
**Thank you lovely reader for taking the time to read Undeniably Married. I hope you loved Mason’s and Sorel’s story as much as I do. I know it was an emotional one.