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The tingle up my spine starts all over again. The heaviness in my balls have me feeling like I’ll spill any second.
I grunt and pump and squeeze her curves. Her tits and hips. I grip her by the throat and then bite at the base of it like we’re fucking animals.
Sydney responds with another deep quake rolling through her body. A desperate gasp of air as she tries to adjust and rock with me, but it’s too much. The pain’s overtaken her.
I only fuck her harder, slipping deeper. So deep it feels impossible. So deep it feels unreal.
I cup her pussy from behind and sink two thick fingers inside her.
That ignites a confusing spark of pleasure in her. She writhes under me and then lets a small moan out. I work us like this ’til she’s keyed up and I am too. I’m buried deep in her ass, pouring sweat from how hard I’ve fucked her.
Just when she seems to be enjoying it, I remove my digits from her—I purposely rob of her the fleeting pleasure she’d had, showing her how false her little bright light of hope was. How this punishment’s psychological too. I can give and take her pleasure. I can damn sure give and take her pain.
Then I go harder, more brutal than ever, ‘til there’s a chance I might break her, roaring out as I sink as deep as her body allows.
It’s a moment I’ll never forget—the orgasm that takes me out and has me locking up in a rush of pleasure.
I spill inside her with heaving breaths and my slick, muscled body trapping hers. Her abused little hole shrinks the second I slide myself out. I groan and almost feel like fucking her all over again.
I would if I thought I had anything left.
But, as my mind-blowing orgasm subsides, my anger returns. The momentary fog clears up, and I remember how fucking livid I am. How fucking pissed Sydney’s betrayal makes me. I tuck myself back into my jeans and then wrench her from where she is braced against the desk.
“We’re done here,” I growl.
“Mason,” she gasps out, appearing dazed herself. She stumbles as I force-walk her across the room. “Please, will you listen—”
“If you ever fucking show your face around these parts, Singer, you’ll regret it.”
“I’m not feeding anyone info! Why won’t you listen?!” she cries.
“GET OUT!” I roar, shoving her toward the door. I throw her torn dress at her. “You show your face at my club, in my town, again, Iwillkill you.”
The heartbreak unfolds on Sydney’s face. Her eyes shine with fresh tears as she clutches her shredded dress to her body, draping it over her intimate parts.
It’s almost enough—despite how my temper crackles through me—to make me feel sorry for her.
But I shut it out. I shove it aside and focus on the rage.
“You have five minutes to disappear, Singer. Get lost.”
I slam the door in her face, swearing if I ever do see her again, she won’t make it out alive.
23
SYDNEY
Where doyou go when you’ve got nowhere that feels like home? Once Mason finishes with the most degrading punishment, warning me never to return to his club, I get the hell out of town. I rush back to the house, pack up whatever I can, and flee Pulsboro.
There’s only one bus headed out of town so late in the night. I barely even check where it’s headed before buying my ticket and rolling my suitcase along to rush into line. Only two other people board the bus with me: an elderly man with a limp and a cane, and a woman who clutches a knapsack like it’s gold.
I take the seat farthest in the back of the bus and plop down, ready to ride for however long they’ll let me.
Even though Wheaton’s only two hours away, which is where this bus is headed.
We start moving with the clatter of closing doors and whoosh of air brakes being released. I settle deeper into the rear corner, the chipped pleather cushion already sticking to my skin.
Since Mason shredded my dress, I threw on a t-shirt and jeans that were wrinkled from being buried in my suitcase. It’s not like it matters considering I’m riding off in the middle of the night to another town I’m unfamiliar with.
