Page 8 of Worth the Risk

“Yep.”

“That’s yes ma’am, Hannah Ann.”

I loudly sigh.

“Is Annabelle excited to share Dalton?” I ask.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Dalton isn’t monogamous, mother. In fact, Dalton doesn’t even stay on one side of the field. He plays both sides,” I tell her. Dalton enjoys some MM side action. My mother is as conservative as they come, so I’m sure this will be unacceptable to her.

“Well,” she stammers, “he’s an attorney, and needs to let off steam. That’s understandable.”

My mouth drops open.

“So you’re saying it’s completely acceptable for Dalton to step out on my cousin because his job is stressful?” I am completely shocked. No way can my mother think this is okay.

“It’s the way of life, Hannah Ann. It doesn’t matter what men do outside of their marriage, as long as they come home to their wives.”

“You have got to be kidding me, mother. You can’t seriously act like this is okay!”

“Annabelle will be marrying well, and she’ll be set for life. I’m sure she’s aware of Dalton’s extracurricular activities. In fact, Dalton’s older brother Wesley is single. I could set up an introduction,” my mother says, and I can hear the victorious smile in her voice. Absolutely not.

“Umm, I’m pretty sure Wesley is single because he doesn’t just play both sides of the field, mother. He strictly plays one side. And it’s not the side I reside on,” I tell her. Wesley is not exactly in the closet, but not fully out either. When you come from a large society family in the south, lots of things are expected from you. I’m betting he’s single because his family won’t accept his lifestyle.

“He still needs a wife. That would be perfect for you! He could continue living however he wants, and you could do whatever it is that you do with the sports,” my mother comments.

She calls it ‘the sports.’ You’d think a southern woman would at least understand football, but my mother is completely clueless about all sports.

“Yeah, I’ll pass. I’m not going to marry a homosexual man just because our two families expect, or demand, it,” I tell her.

“Hannah Ann, we’ve allowed this to go on too long. You need to come back home and take your rightful place in the family. You have expectations to fulfill, and it’s time you delivered. It’s bad enough you left poor Jefferson here, fending for himself, with all the ridiculous rumors about your breakup,” my mother chastises.

“I’m twenty-eight years old, mother. It’s time you realize I’m an adult and no longer under your thumb. I’m never coming back to Georgia. Get that through your thick skull. And the rumors about Jefferson? I can only assume that most, if not all, are true. Don’t call me again with one of these little tirades, mother. It’s quite unbecoming,” I tell her and then end the call, throwing the phone on the bed. I can feel a massive headache coming on. No one knows how to aggravate me more than my mother. I specifically chose to use the word “unbecoming” because my mother used it to describe every behavior she didn’t like of mine growing up. It’s unbecoming to frown. Don’t pick at your fingernails, Hannah Ann. It’s unbecoming. You will not raise your voice to your date, Hannah Ann. It’s unbecoming to show disrespect.

The phone immediately rings again, and I power it down. I have no desire to hear anything she has to say. She’s getting worse with the controlling power trips as I get older. If I don’t do exactly what she wants, or what she expects, it’s like the world is ending. Absolutely ridiculous.

I have an older sister and a younger brother. My sister, Chastity, married a rich businessman in Atlanta, and immediately popped out two cherubic little nightmares in the form of my niece and nephew. Oh, they play the parts. They’re both incredibly photogenic, and they perform perfectly at high society functions. In private, however, their horns come out. Since Chastity would rather spend her time ‘lunching with the ladies’ and bathing in whiskey, her disasters wreak havoc on the people hired to care for them.

My brother, Martin Jr, has managed to turn a normal four-year collegiate program into six years. He’s changed his major four times, somehow still manages to live in his fraternity house, and has had multiple close calls with fatherhood. He’s supposed to take over the family business, which he has no desire to do. He goes by MJ, because he hates the name Martin, and to attempt to separate himself from the family name.

My father runs a multi-state construction company supplying windows and doors to home and commercial builders. It’s not exactly exciting, but it’s lucrative. Selling windows is the furthest thing from MJ’s mind. I can commiserate with him, as the thought of working with my father makes me nauseous.

I hate that my mother brought up Jefferson, my ex-boyfriend. He was a multi-year mistake on my part. It should have been concerning to me that my parents introduced me to him, being the prominent son of a couple from their country club. At first, Jefferson and I hit it off. It took quite a while for me to realize he wasn’t a nice guy. He slowly and methodically broke my resolve and confidence, one small infraction at a time. You could stand to lose a few pounds, Hannah. Did you look at that man, sweetheart? My friends are your friends now. You shouldn’t be with your single friends now that you have me. Did you use profanity in front of my mother? Did you raise your voice at me? It’s your fault I slapped you, Hannah. You knew you wanted my dick like that.

I’m a fairly resilient woman. While my home life was never picture-perfect on the inside, I remained steadfast in my hope for happiness. Once I realized that Jefferson was a vile person, I began taking steps to escape the stranglehold of southern Georgia. I stayed with him much longer than I should have, and allowed people like my parents to reason with me on Jefferson’s actions. “He didn’t really mean he’d sexually assault you, darling. He was just angry. Jefferson is a good man, from a good family. You don’t want to give that up.” All it took was him hitting me once, and I regretted ever letting my parents into my head.

Heading into the bathroom, I decide to run a bath. Caroline has an Alexa in every room so I’m able to play some music and relax in the tub. I light a few candles and dump in an unhealthy amount of rose scented Epsom salts and bubble bath, then add in one of my favorite bath bombs. I’m too keyed up to relax any other way. I hate when my mother calls me. It’s never for a good reason.

I let out a blissful exhale as I slowly sink into the scalding water. I have Alexa playing some light jazz music, and I can feel my muscles begin to relax. Closing my eyes, I run through the craziness of the day in my mind. And I keep coming back to the hottie next door.

Subconsciously my hand drifts between my legs as I picture him answering the door this morning with only pants on. Then I remember just moments ago, seeing him VERY aroused. Hottie is rocking quite the nice little package. Well, definitely not little. Above average package? Girthy package? Hell, I don’t know what to call it. It appeared larger than any I’ve ever been acquainted with, but that’s not saying much.

My fingers are now circling my clit faster and faster as I remember him standing behind me in the elevator. His hot breath on my neck. My other hand joins the party, sliding into my channel. I let out a loud moan as I feel my orgasm building. I imagine it’s Hottie’s hands touching me, his fingers hammering in and out of me at a brisk pace as he whispers dirty thoughts into my ear. I cry out as I come, shuddering through the pleasure.

A crash sounds next to me and I hear a muffled “Fuck!”

I still my body as I listen, and I hear a groan. Oh my fucking god. The bathroom backs up to Hottie’s apartment. Did he hear me? Does he know what I did? Before I can convince myself otherwise, I hear him very clearly speaking to me.

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