I shattered around him, crying out as my orgasm tore through me, pleasure detonating so hard my vision went white. My walls clamped down on him, milking his cock, and his low, gutturalgroan was pure sin. He kept thrusting through it, chasing his own release, until he buried himself to the hilt and spilled inside me with a ragged curse.
The glass cooled under my forehead as my body went limp.Holy fuck.Who needed spicy foods or long walks? This man was going to send me into labor any day now with the power of his perfect fucking penis. That would be a fun one to explain to our daughter one day.
When my legs finally gave out, Brooks caught me, humming low and steady against my hair as he eased me back. He straightened my maternity bra back into place and smoothed my shirt down with those big, careful hands, his touch suddenly gentle where moments before it had been rough and raw. He crouched to tug my leggings back up, pressing a kiss against my hip like an apology and a promise all at once.
And then, he dropped to his knees in front of me, palms sliding over the curve of my belly. He pressed his forehead to it, voice soft but certain. “Listen up, baby B. It’s our last game before the playoffs, and Daddy’s gonna go out there and win for you,” he told our daughter. “But the truth is, you’re the real prize. You and your mama.”
The words hit me harder than any orgasm ever could.
I looked down at him, all six-plus feet of tattooed, muscle-bound Coach Daddy folded onto the office carpet like it was an altar. His big hands cradled my belly with reverence that made my chest ache. He’d just fucked me against the glass like I was his dirty little secret—even though we both knew I was anything but—and now here he was, talking to our baby like she was the most sacred thing he’d ever known.
The contrast was dizzying. And devastating.
I pressed a hand to the back of his head, threading my fingers through his hair, watching him soften in a way I hadn’t thought possible. He wasn’t doing this because he thought he had to orbecause it looked good. Brooks meant every word. I could feel it radiating off him, grounding me even as the emotions swelled too big in my chest.
Lately, as the weeks ticked down, closing in on my due date, I’d been thinking about my mom more than usual. Not because I’d suddenly forgiven her, but because I couldn’t help seeing the gaps. The ache of what she’d never had.
She’d never had this.
All those nights she’d worked doubles, stringing us together with grit and exhaustion, she hadn’t had a partner kneeling at her feet, holding her steady. No one to kiss her swollen belly like it was the most sacred thing in the world, no anchor, no quiet strength to lean on. Just her alone, carrying it all.
And maybe some part of me had always assumed that would be my story too.
But Brooks was rewriting it.
I blinked hard, my throat tight. God, I was lucky, so fucking lucky that he was the one. That this messy, imperfect, beautiful man was the father of my baby. My partner.My love.
He stayed there for another minute or so, murmuring low against my belly, his lips brushing over the curve of me like he was telling our daughter secrets. I didn’t even need to hear the words to know what they were: promises. Fierce and steady vows, the kind he’d keep no matter what.
I glanced at the clock on the wall, the red digits blinking back at me, and sighed. “Okay,Daddy,” I teased, sliding my hands over his to pull his attention up. I gave him a flirty, little look over the swell of my belly. “You have a game to go get ready for. AndMamaneeds to clean up the mess you made in her c-u-n-t.”
His head snapped up, eyes blazing, and for a second, I thought he really might say screw the game. His hands tightened on my hips, his cock already hardening again against my thigh. “Kitten,” he groaned, the word rough enough to scrape over myskin. “You can’t just say shit like that when I have somewhere to be.”
“Consider it motivation,” I said sweetly, though my grin gave me away.
He cursed under his breath, kissing me like he wanted to drag me right back down to the floor. And god, what I wouldn’t give to get lost in him all over again. But just then, my stomach tightened, a low cramp rolling through me that had me sucking in a sharp breath.
Brooks froze instantly. “What was that?”
“Nothing,” I said quickly, straightening, forcing a smile. “Just one of those Braxton Hicks things. Practice runs. Dr. Kong warned me they’d get stronger the closer we get to the big day.”
His jaw worked, worry flickering across his face even as he searched mine.
I kissed his chin, softer this time. “Go. I promise, if it turns into something, you’ll be the first to know, but right now? You’ve got a game to win.”
He didn’t move. Not right away, at least. It looked like he was trying to decide whether to believe me or whisk me away to the emergency room. Finally, he exhaled through his nose and pressed his forehead to mine. “You scare the hell out of me, kitten,” he murmured.
“Good,” I whispered back, brushing my lips to his. “Means you’ll come running.”
“Always.”
By the top of the seventh inning, I knew I was in labor.
I’d been telling myself it was nothing for the past hour, just stronger Braxton Hicks, my body gearing up for the real thing that was still two weeks out. The truth hit me with every wave that rolled through my belly, sharp enough to steal my breath.
I clenched my tablet a little harder, forcing my focus on the half-finished caption glowing back at me.Just a few more innings, BB. I smoothed a hand over my stomach, willing my baby girl to be patient, a fruitless endeavor considering who her mother was.
“Are you okay?” Clarke asked, her eyes bouncing between me and the field. The game was tied at three, and the entire stadium was on edge because of it. “You’re breathing kind of weird.”
