“Hmmm. So eager. So willing. So ready, hey?” My finger ghosts over her delicate skin.
“Yes,” she insists, wiggling those heavy hips, and my dick jumps. I stand behind her, my hips flush with hers. As I grab hold of her with both hands and drag her backward, she mewls with wanton need.
“Mason!”
“Yes?”
“Fuck me!”
“Oh, Sabrina, I intend to. Repeatedly. I’m going to bury this thick dick so deep you’ll taste it.”
“Then do it!” Her words light a fire within me. I punch my hips forward, taking her in one movement. Each thrust is deeper than the last, the intensity burnishing and blossoming with each drive forward. Her cunt claims me so well.
I guide her torso onto the mattress. “You like that, huh? Want more?” I whisper the words into the shell of her ear. I can see the skin react to my breath as her moans increase when my rhythm does the same. It pebbles as she shakes with a frisson of sparked anticipation for more.
“You like how I fuck you? How I own you?”
“Yes.”
“Just like every fucking whore does.”
“Just like every other fucking whore does.”
The words are a carousel deep in my cerebral cortex. Damn him for being such a fun-loving, goofy guy one moment, then reverting to the granite professional with the filthy dialogue the next. It’s more than dialogue; it’s his way of life. It’s foolish of me to think otherwise. I’m his current receiving party. Women came, literally, before me, and will continue to do so after I’ve been tossed aside. Yet I’m still blinking into the abyss at 3:17 a.m. because I can’t sleep. Damn those cerebral thoughts.
“Your blinking lashes sound like an A380 taking off. Is there a reason you’re awake?”
Yes, no. You! After Mason had thoroughly fucked me on all fours on his bed, he had me up against his window, and again in his sumptuous shower while jets of water hit us from ridiculous angles. There is my parent’s mustard-brown shower, and there is Mason Mercer’s spa experience. I shivered a little more every time a new blast of warm water hit my overstimulated skin, knowing he’d compared their amenitieswith his.
“I can go back to my room if I’m keeping you awake. I wanted to earlier, but you didn’t want me t?—”
“Iwantyou to stay with me.” His words are spoken into the crook of my neck, and I melt.
“I understand.”
“No, Bri, I don’t think you do.”
His soft palm fans across my stomach under the sheets and comforter. When he pulls me closer to him, my back flush with his front, I gasp. He’s hard again.
“I don’t want sex,” he clarifies. “I mean, I do, but I want to just lie here with you more. I want to hold you and talk to you like normal people do.”
Um, okay. I mean, I’m fairly normal. And I signed a contract stating I’d do pretty much anything he wanted. I can listen to his sexy, sleep-mussed timbre while he holds me. I’d do that for free.
“I want to talk to you about Trystan. Why I wanted him at your parents’ house for Thanksgiving. I need to share some things with you that matter. If that’s okay?”
I attempt to turn in his arms, but his hold prevents it. He’s intent on delivering whatever he has to say into my hair. And that’s more than fine. That he’s sharing such an important, intimate part of himself with me is unprecedented. Four hours ago, he was railing into me and calling me a whore. The man is a paradox.
“Trystan doesn’t have anyone. His family cut him off.”
When he doesn’t elaborate, I fear he’s fallen back asleep. Only he scoops some hair from the side of my face before playing with the curled ends.
“I offered him a job because he needed someone. Let’s just say I couldn’t be that person, but I could give him work at least. I don’t give a fuck that he wears his hair a little longer. Its hair, not fucking IP law. I’m fed up with being forced into the machinations of the media machine.”
My heartbeat echoes into the silence like an unwelcome intruder’s footsteps. Am I ready for vulnerable Mason?
“It’s the same with mining, but at least Mitch is his own boss to some extent. Me? I’m always the goldfish in the fucking bowl. Michael did it better or faster, and Magnus invented it. Ican’t win. And the longer this goes on, I’m not sure I want to. Seeing your family today made me realize just how much I despise mine.”
Oh, my heart. It’s still beating while trying not to shatter. Here I was fixated on our shower tiles, and the man is amid a crisis of clarity.
