Chapter Eight
Olive
By the time Mason gets the locks changed and the security cameras installed, it's almost noon. Paulina and Oscar are getting along well. She chirps at him, and he barks back, which she seems to find hilarious. She hasn't called Mason an asshole all morning.
We leave her cage closed, though. Just in case. Maybe next time we can open it and see how they do. But for now, Oscar isn't trying to eat her through the bars of her cage, and she isn't trying to peck his eyes out, so it's a win.
He doesn't even give me a hard time about getting him out of the bath. He's too excited to get back to his new friend to put up a fuss.
Mason is cleaning up his tools when I step back into the living room to find Paulina watching Oscar do zoomies around her crate. She looks…content.
"Come here," Mason says, holding out a hand to me.
I stride toward him, placing my hand in his. He tugs me into his arms, his lips coming down on mine in a soft kiss.
"I can now rest easy at night," he murmurs against my lips. "No one is getting in here."
"Does that include you?"
I love the way he looks at me like he wants to tear my clothes off with his teeth.
That look is so damn sexy. It makes me feel sexy, and I'm not sure I've ever felt that way before.
I don't have issues with my body or anything.
I just…no one has ever looked at me like they might die if they don't have me.
It's amazing how much confidence a look like that can give a girl.
"Nothing will keep me out if I want in, Rebel," he growls.
"And you say you aren't a serial killer," I tease.
"Would you settle for a man obsessed?"
"Obsessed enough to stalk me to the bookstore?"
For the first time in days, he looks shaken, like he doesn't know what to say.
"Admit it," I whisper, throwing my arms around his neck. "You followed me there."
"Not the first time," he says, completely serious. "I saw you through the windows and wanted to talk to you again, so I went inside. But every time after that? Yeah, Olive, I was there for you."
My heart does that thing again that I'm seriously starting to love.
"That's a shame."
"You're pissed?" He seems genuinely worried.
"It's a shame that you don't actually read filthy smut," I clarify.
His lips quirk into a relieved grin. "Who says I don't?"
"Seriously?"
"What? You think I didn't read the books I bought?" His brow quirks. "Give me a little credit."
"Which one did you read?"
"All of them."
"You didn't."
"Oh, I did." He smirks at me. "Even bought the sequel to one on my Kindle."
"Mason!" I bury my face in his chest, laughing hysterically. I love him so much for admitting that. Wait. What? No, I… Oh, crap.
Crap.
Crap, crap, crap.
I'm falling in love with him.
Jesus Christ. I'm falling in love.
"Um." I slip out of his arms, my heart pounding like a war drum. "I…"
"What? What's wrong?"
"Nothing. I just…" I quickly shake my head. "I just wanted to ask if you want to go…do something?"
"What do you have in mind?"
I think quickly, trying to come up with something. Literally the only thing I can think about is getting him naked and into my bed. That is so not helpful.
"I don't know," I finally say. "Anything."
"Hmm. What would you be doing right now if I weren't here?" he asks.
"Probably harassing Sarah at the bookstore, pretending to be helpful."
"You love it there, don't you?"
"It feels like home to me."
"Then let's go."
"Really?" I eye him sideways. "You're willing to go help out again? For free?"
"No." He stalks toward me. "I'm willing to help out for the opportunity to spend even five more minutes with you, Olive. I'm willing to do all kinds of shady shit for five minutes of your time."
I think my heart is permanently in a state of tachycardic floating now. Because of him, this is where I live.
It doesn't suck.
"You can have as much of my time as you want, Mason."
"Careful," he warns, wrapping his hands around my waist to haul me up against him. His lips come down on mine in a scorching kiss. "You keep talking like that, I might just ask for more than you're willing to give."
I seriously doubt that's possible, not when forever is beginning to sound like just the right amount of time to me. But I don't say that. It's way too soon to say that…right?
We decide to take Paulina back to his place before we go…just in case. She is not happy about it. She calls him an asshole the whole way and tries to bite him through the bars of the cage.
"You aren't helping," he growls when I just giggle while Paulina loses her mind.
"Who said I was trying to help?" I ask.
He narrows his eyes at me and then growls when Paulina chomps his finger.
"Woof, woof!" she shrieks. "You're under arrest, asshole!"
I decide to take pity on him when she tries to bite him again. "Hey, pretty girl," I coo at her, trying to get her attention. "I'll bring Oscar to see you in a few hours, okay? For now, let's get you home so you can watch Law & Order."
"Stabler. Pretty Stabler."
"That's right. You're going to watch Pretty Stabler for a while," I murmur.
She glances at Mason, tries to bite him one more time, and then settles with a final indignant squawk.
The rest of the trip across the yard is uneventful. She preens her feathers, pointedly ignoring the man carrying her. He just shakes his head, eyeing me sideways.
"You're the goddamn bird whisperer," he grumbles as I hold open his front door so he can carry her cage through.
"Nah, I just understand her." I shoot him a cheeky grin. "What woman on the planet isn't obsessed with Elliot Stabler?"
He sets her cage down, wheeling to face me with this look on his face that's… Holy Jesus. It's possessive and hot as hell. "You're obsessed with who, Rebel?"
"Elliot Stabler," I say sweetly. "He's hot as fuck, Mason. He stars in all my fant—" I squeak as he lunges for me, hauling me into his arms with a wild growl.
"Try again, baby," he snarls against my lips, one hand on my ass as he boosts me up into his arms.
"I'm obsessed with—"
He kisses me like he's trying to steal my soul. I plunge my hands into his hair, holding him in place to kiss him back just as wildly.
"Try again," he growls.
"I'm obsessed with—"
Again, that's as far as he lets me get before my back is against the wall and he's grinding against me. His erection is right there—right fucking there.
I pull his hair, moaning his name.
"You!" I cry, breaking when his cock bumps my clit, sending a bolt of lava through me. "I'm obsessed with you."
"That's what I thought." His hand comes down on my ass in a hard smack. "I'm the one who stars in your fantasies, Rebel. Just me."
"Please," I moan, rocking against him. I need him inside me right now, before I combust. "Oh, please, Mason."
"No," he growls, already knowing what I'm after. "It's too soon."
"Fuck your rules!" I cry, pulling his hair hard. I wrench my mouth away from his, biting his throat. "I want you inside me. I need it."
"You just bit me."
I bite him again for good measure.
I'm not sure if it's the right thing to do or the wrong thing to do, but I'm suddenly no longer against the wall. I'm in his arms, his mouth on mine, while he storms down the hall, grinding me against his cock with every step.
Within seconds, we're in a bedroom, and I'm on my back beneath him, sinking into the bed. His body is plastered to mine in one hard line, pinning me in place.
"Who are you obsessed with?" he breathes, his lips against the side of my throat.
"You," I moan. "I'm so damn obsessed with you."
He bites the edge of my jaw, dragging his beard across my skin in a way that makes my whole body turn to liquid.
"Jesus, Olive," he groans, rolling his hips so his cock rides right against my clit. "You know what you do to me?"
"Tell me," I beg, gripping his hair so tight I know it has to hurt.
He answers with his hands, not words. He yanks my shirt up, breaking the front clasp of my bra with a twist, baring me to his gaze. He doesn't waste time pretending he's gentle. He just palms them and bends to suck one nipple deep into his mouth.
The wet, greedy sounds he makes turn me inside out. I arch up, rubbing myself shamelessly against the bulge in his jeans.
He moves to the other breast, biting down just hard enough to make my hips buck, and then lets go with a pop.
"I want to wreck you," he rasps. "I want to make you forget anyone who ever taught you that you couldn't trust your own judgment. You want that, Rebel?"
"Yes," I gasp, my throat tight with need. "Please, Mason. Now."
He slides a hand between my legs without preamble, yanking my shorts and panties down.
I nearly come unglued when he presses two fingers against my clit, greedy and impatient. He works me slow at first, and then faster.
My head falls back, my eyes squeezed shut as pleasure rips through me.
"Look at me," he orders.
I force my eyes open, meeting his gaze. His eyes are wild and hungry, so blue they look lit from within.
"Don't look away," he says, his voice low and as deep as thunder. "I want you to see exactly what you do to me."
His thumb drags over my clit in slow, deliberate figure eights. I can't think, can't breathe. I can't do shit except writhe beneath him, clinging to his biceps for dear life.
He watches me, his gaze hooded and so intense it feels like a physical force. He's not even naked, and neither am I—my shorts are still trapped around my thighs—but I feel exposed in the best way. Owned.
"You look so fucking pretty when you want to come for me, Rebel."
He presses two fingers inside me, and I nearly scream. They're so goddamn thick, so perfect. He fucks me with them, his palm angled just right to grind into my clit with every thrust.
My body bows, chasing the friction, desperate, greedy. I can't keep my eyes open, but he doesn't allow me to look away.
His free hand comes up, clamping around my jaw, his fingers still wrecking me. "Watch me, baby," he growls. "You don't get to look away until you're coming apart for me."
I whimper his name, caught in his gaze and the way he makes me feel—in the way he looks at me like I'm the only thing that matters. It's too damn soon to feel this much for him. But I feel it anyway, beating in my chest like a second heartbeat, consuming me alive.
"Mason, I…I…"
He curls his fingers up, his thumb pressing against my clit at the same time.
I detonate with a sharp cry, convulsing beneath him. Waves wrack me, dragging me under again and then again. I can't move, can't breathe. All I can do is take it as he unravels my entire world and remakes it.
He doesn't let up until I'm trembling beneath him and chanting his name, so far gone I don't know which way is up anymore.
"So beautiful," he breathes, caging me in again to kiss me. His lips are soft against mine, his kiss achingly sweet. "So fucking perfect, Rebel."
"Mason," I whisper. "Please."
"You want more?"
I want everything.
"Yes."
He tears at his jeans, dragging them down just enough to free himself. He's so hard and thick, so damn beautiful, my mouth waters.
He lifts my leg, bending it back until my knee nearly touches my own ear, then surges forward, slamming inside with a force that rips every thought from my mind.
"Mason!"
He's deep—so deep he's in my heart, my ribs, my lungs. I can't breathe, but I never want him to stop.
"Goddamn, baby," he groans. "You're so fucking tight."
I sob his name, already reeling from the pleasure of it, from the stretch and fullness and the perfection of him inside me.
He fucks me with long, relentless strokes, holding my leg high, his other hand on my jaw to keep our eyes locked.
Every time he bottoms out, I see stars. I feel myself shattering apart and rebuilding, only to start all over again on the next thrust.
He kisses me while he fucks me, stealing my cries and my sanity. All I can do is cling to his arms, my nails digging so deep I'm sure I'll leave marks.
"I'm never letting you go, Olive," he growls, and then he's kissing me again, all tongue and teeth and heat. "You're mine now. Say it."
"I'm yours," I gasp, the words breaking on a sob of pleasure. "I'm yours, Mason. Please—"
He fucks the please out of me, his pace brutal and beautiful. This kind of pleasure isn't supposed to exist. We weren't built to withstand it. And yet, he keeps going.
He grinds hard against me, then pulls almost all the way out before slamming back in, knocking my breath clear out of my lungs.
I choke on a sound that's half gasp, half sob, clawing at him.
My leg slips from his grip, but he just grabs my hips and yanks me down beneath him, using my body like it belongs to him.
It does.
His hand finds my clit, rough and shameless. The coil inside me snaps again, pleasure wracking me in white-hot waves. I come with a scream, thrown into an orgasm so intense it's the only thing that exists.
He never breaks eye contact, not even when he snarls my name and slams himself deep, shaking apart inside me.
"Olive," he groans, his cock pulsing inside me. "Christ, Olive."
We collapse together, tangled and gasping. I'm not sure what I'm supposed to feel in this moment—panic perhaps, or the overwhelming certainty that he's going to break my heart. But I feel neither of those things. I just feel…spent and used and so damn perfect it hurts in the best way possible.
"I meant what I said," he whispers, nuzzling his face against me. "I'm not letting you go."
God help me, but I think I believe him.