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One hand drops down to my ass. He digs his fingers into my cheek. “Promise me. Swear it.”
I can’t do better than that.
“Come for me, Mason.”
He gets such a thrill when I use his first name. Since I only call him ‘Mason’ when he’s inside of me, he equates it with fucking. Sometimes, just whispering it is enough to get him closer.”
And, sometimes, he holds on a little longer.
“You first, angel.”
Not this time.
I quicken my pace. I clench my inner muscles, jabbing my nails into his shoulders because, like me, a little pain helps him reach his pleasure faster.
He’s stubborn, too. If there’s one thing I can say about Burns, it’s that he’s a generous lover. From the beginning, he made it seem like his whole purpose in life is to get me off. It’s about time I return the favor.
Luckily, I have a trick that he’ll never expect.
Leaning in, my lips against his ears, I whisper, “I love you, Mason.”
“Fucking damn it,” he shouts, before wrapping his arms around me, pulling me against his chest as he bucks up into me. His movements are frantic, shallow thrusts that stop as his body jerks, his orgasm slamming into him.
Ha. I win.
“Tell me you meant it, angel. Tell me you love me.”
I meant it the first time. When he held that gun to his head and life without Burns flashed before my eyes, I fucking meant it. I just didn’t let Burns know that.
What kind of whacko falls for her cruel captor within days of being kidnapped? Who wants their first confession of love to be forced from them at gunpoint?
Turns out the answer isme.
“Would I lie to you?” I tease.
It’s not the answer he was hoping for. Probably not the answer he was expecting, either. But now I know how Burns got to know me so well. It wasn’t just stalking me or watching me. My journal is like a portal to my brain—so he should’ve known better than to doubt my feelings for him.
They’re right there, in black and white.
Nodding to himself, he shifts his position so that he can slip his fingers between our slick bodies. I know instinctively that he’s going for my clit to make sure that I come, too.
Later. Now that I made sure he finished, there’s something I want to do first. On the heels of both of us making our confessions, I can’t see any reason to postpone it any longer.
Shoving him in the chest, I push him away from me. Though I can tell from the shadow that flutters across his face, letting go of me is the last thing he wants. But Burns will give me whatever the hell I want, including space when I need it.
Lifting up, I feel the loss of him as his spent cock slides out of me. No other choice, though, since he kicked his pants halfway across the room in his haste to let me fuck him.
As I bend over to reach for them, he lets out a groan that has me grinning. I pat his discarded pants, triumphant when I find the box-shaped bulge in one of his pockets. I yank it out, not even a little surprised that he’s still carrying the ring box with him. When it’s not on the dresser in our room, mocking me, it’s in his possession.
Not for much longer.
I toss it at Burns.
My suave, cool, collected cop actually fumbles the catch. He recovers quickly, snapping the lid open, plucking the ring from the box.
He knows me. Better than myself, I think, but even if he didn’t, it’s obvious why I gave him the ring.
Because I want him to give it tome.
