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CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

REED

“So let me get this straight. You don’t want huge tits?” Tate asks Mase and scrunches his nose. Just hearing the words has my eyes darting over to my girl.

It’s Eleanor’s birthday party today, and when the little ones fell asleep in the nursery, us guys gathered in the living room to discuss Mase’s first booking with an Indulgence girl while the women chat about pregnancy experiences around the kitchen island.

Watching Gia in the kitchen with the other women has pride washing over me. It’s been one hell of a month, and I’ve not spent one night away from her—even Bubbles, the fucking rat-bastard, has joined me. Mainly because Shaw refuses to dog watch any longer. Turns out, Bubbles has a thing for soft furnishings. Thankfully, Bryce has taken a liking to her, and Gia was okay with her sleeping in his room so it doesn’t disturb us in the night. So I’m pretty damn grateful even though the thought of the pet hair all over my son has me wanting to scrub him clean each time he leaves his room.

“You don’t like big tits?” I glance back at my friend in utter shock, because every time I look at my girl’s rack, I blink in disbelief. The size and thought of the weight alone make my cock rock hard, not to mention the softness of her nipples and the way small drops of milk leak from her, and it’s all entirely for me at this stage. It’s like she’s producing milk for her baby’s daddy while she finishes keeping our baby safe.

Providing for us both.

I rearrange my cock; grateful the infants aren’t around. It’s not something I’ve ever had to consider before now, mainly because I’ve never been in the vicinity of children long enough to have an issue to care.

Mase’s cheeks heat, and he drags a hand over his shaved head. The tattoos on his neck contract, another giveaway of his discomfort. “It’s not that I don’t like them.”

“Tara had big tits, right? You want different.” Tate surmises.

Mase’s shoulders sag. “Exactly, and not anything fake either.” We all share a knowing glance. Tara was fake through and through, every part of her, and I grimace at the fact I ever found that stereotype attractive, not when there’re natural beauties out there like Gia.

My eyes find her again, and we remain locked in a trance until Owen nudges me.

“One girl or two?” he asks, and I blink at him with confusion. Then he gestures toward the phone in Tate’s hand. “For Mase. Do you think the first time should be one girl or two?”

“One,” I state. “Definitely one.”

Tate clears his throat and broadens his shoulders. “So, to summarize. One girl, natural beauty, fresh faced.”

I nod along to his words.

“Smaller tits, what color hair did you say?”

“Not blonde.” Mase quickly inserts, and we smile at one another at his speedy response. His ex dyed her hair blonde, so I can appreciate where the comment came from.

“Okay. Anything else?”

“No. If you click on accept now, you can skip all the specifics,” I add.

Tate scoffs. “Like what specifics?”

I glance over my shoulder to check Gia is out of earshot, then lower my voice. “Any additional extras like piercings, particular kinks and such.”

Tate sits forward, leaning on his elbows, his eyes alight with glee, and I want to hit myself in the face for giving him ammunition for his schoolboy antics. “What kind of kinks?”

“Just click on the next fucking page,” I grit out. He knows damn well what kinks are available on the app; he’s heard me brag often enough.

Tate slumps back in his chair like a petulant child. Then he stares at the phone in his hand, and his lip curls into a sly smirk. “What would you like your match to be willing to participate in?”

Great, here we fucking go.

“Ass play, spit play, blood play.” He scrunches his nose before continuing on. “Wet play, BDSM…” He quirks an eyebrow toward me as if I’m the one choosing, and I look away, not willing to be drawn into the conversation any longer than necessary.

His voice drones on, but I tap out of the sixty-five questions I was once accustomed to.

Until I met her.

She throws her head back on something Ava says, and warmth spreads through me as she places her hand on her stomach, stroking over it with affection.

“I’m going to marry her.”

“Do it before she has the kid. That way, you can both have the same name,” Owen adds, and I only now realize I spoke aloud. “And sort fucking Fanzio out. The last thing you want is that prick fucking it up for you,” he snaps, with a venomous glare aimed in my direction.

“You don’t want to lose her, Reed,” Shaw tacks on, and a tremor of fear flashes through me at the thought. Of course I don’t; that’s the last thing I want to happen.

They’re my world.

I steel my spine with determination; that’s never going to happen.

The girls pull me out of my daze when Ava’s panicked voice cuts through the air. “Reed! I think there’s something wrong with Gia!”

And just like that, all thoughts of George Fanzio are banished from my mind.

I just wish I’d dealt with him sooner.