Page 23 of Bruised

“Sleep well last night, puppy?”

I snap my eyes open. Mason is standing there, drying his hair with a towel. I try to keep cool and nonchalant, but I always fail when it comes to him. Before I have time to open my mouth, he speaks again.

“See you tonight.”

I stare as he saunters back inside the house with the towel over his shoulder, and instantly, my mind is back in his room, with his body pressed up against mine and his voice whispering, “That’s it. Take what you need.”

An anxious breath rushes out of me, and a swirl of relief and excitement takes its place.

He hasn’t gotten sick of me. I didn’t do anything wrong. He still wants me. And fuck, I still want him.

9. ANOTHER TASTE

If I’m going to do this, I’m doing it for myself.

I’m using him instead of him using me. I’m choosing this, and I’m going to enjoy every second of it.

… At least, that’s what I’m trying to tell myself as I make my way to Mason’s room that night, but reality always seems to defy expectations whenever he’s involved.

I don’t even bother knocking this time; I just step right in.

Unlike last night, the bedside lamp is on, and Mason has the covers off already, his naked body on full display.

My mouth goes dry as I approach him. I shouldn’t be here. It’s a shame that the need to stay—to get what I want—is greater than the guilt and embarrassment that run alongside it.

When I’m by the bed, Mason nods at me. “Want to take your clothes off this time?”

I hesitate, fingers tugging at the hem of my shirt. It’s not just exposing myself that I’m worried about—it’s the implications of it. It’s what I surrender by baring those parts of myself to him. What he might do. What lines he might try to cross.

“Don’t worry,” Mason says. “I’ll be nice.”

I frown as I straddle his hips, clothes still on.

“No? Okay.” He doesn’t sound very disappointed—just pleased to have me back in his lap.

I take a deep breath as I lift my shirt over my head, exposing my upper body. A flush creeps up my neck as Mason’s gaze roams all over me. Fuck, he’s so intense.

I’m not fit like him—I’m slender in a lanky sort of way, pale and soft-skinned. Mason runs a hand up my torso, eyes flicking up to me in silent question. I nod, not sure what I’m saying yes to, but right now, I’ll agree to just about anything as long as I can get off like I got off last night—with that toe-curling, shuddering pleasure that sends me right to sleep.

“Feels better like this, right?” His other hand slides up my chest, and his thumbs find my nipples.

It does feel better to be rid of my shirt. Less constricting, and the cooling effect is a relief, but every time he touches me, tendrils of pleasure lick up my spine, and I can barely focus on grinding on him. The grind is what I’m here for. To get off. I’m not here for him to rub my nipples, even if it, uh… feels really good…

He pauses to lick his thumbs before he puts them back on me, and the callused pads of them are warm and slick as they rub the peaks of my nipples, which in turn are stiffening fast. His fingers cover my pecs and my sides, gripping me there, holding me in place.

I bite back a moan. My hips rub back and forth, back and forth, in a rhythm that feels almost meditative. All the while, the pressure in my dick and balls is building, and I’m… I’m⁠—

“Want another taste?” Mason asks.

My brain is running hot on the need to come, so I just nod helplessly, and Mason brings his hand between us again and swipes his thumb over the weeping head of his cock, gathering a bead of precum. He brings his fingers to my mouth, and I suck on them eagerly, moaning.

“There you go,” he purrs. “Tastes good, doesn’t it?”

I nod, so fucking close to coming. His fingers slide back to my nipples, pinching them between thumbs and index fingers and clamping down hard.

It’s like a trigger for my dick—one I didn’t even know I had. I keep humping him, movements erratic as my whole body tightens, and I come and come, pain shooting from my chest and pleasure pulsing from my lower body, leaving me a whimpering mess.

When I open my eyes back up, Mason has that pleased little smirk on his lips again. I wonder if I should try to make him come. It would only be fair. He’s made me come twice now—or rather, I’ve made myself come by using his body.