Nine
Mr and Mrs Lonsdale were away again and I had loads to do. They had only left me with four horses to care for, the others had been taken to another local fair, but it was hard work. Every animal appeared to be shitting for Britain which made me wonder if I’d made a mistake with their grain portions. As a rule of thumb, I had been told to allow 1.5 to 2 kg of feed per 100 kg of the horse's body weight and I’d done that, hadn’t I? I only had two more feeds to get through thank goodness. If I had gotten it wrong, Mr and Mrs Lonsdale could put it right before any weight gain or weight loss occurred due to my incompetence. That’s the way I saw it anyway.
It was scorching hot and thankfully I’d remembered my hat, not wanting a repeat of that last weekend. I had also worn loose-fitting shorts, bright pink Hunters wellies and an old T-shirt of Alex’s that I had decided to keep in payment for fucking me over. It was tiny and wouldn’t have fit him anyway.
I sighed and swallowed down the sadness that things hadn’t worked out. Would never have considering he was gay. I glanced down at his plain black tee, I had almost worn Mason’s top which I’d practically stolen, but decided against it. If he saw me in it, it would send the wrong message. Not as if I knew what the right message was at that point. I also still had his underwear but stuffed them to the very bottom of my laundry basket. Almost like burying the evidence.
As I’d just about finished with Star’s stable, an annoying voice barged into my peace.
“I’m pleased to see you’re wearing your hat this time Amy. Saves me from having to bail your arse out again,” Mason said.
As I exited the stable with the brush in my hand, my eyes were insulted by Mason and Nixon who were standing by the open gate. What the hell they wanted was anyone’s guess. I took my cap off and scratched my head with the same hand.
Dread uncoiled in my stomach, “What are you doing here? The Lonsdale’s are away.” I spoke like I’d expected them to know that.
Nixon’s brow creased “Really, that’s odd. Pete was supposed to show me Tiny. Mitchell set it up with him a few weeks ago.” I had never heard any of the McKenna boys call Mitchell dad. Under normal circumstances that would have been weird, but of course, the relationship between them was anything but normal.
I raised my eyebrows, “Well, you’re not in the book. I checked it at the weekend,” I replied with a frown before discarding the broom in one of the racks and placing my cap on top.
The McKenna boys exchanged a look of doubt. Their dad’s illness meant he had probably got the dates wrong.
Mason looked mouth-watering in loose-fitted jeans and a checked shirt with the sleeves rolled back. I noted the veins which stood out on his tanned muscular forearms again. Don’t look at his hands, that’s where his fingers are, don’t do it!
I came to stand before them and purposefully pushed my thighs together to ward off any unexpected reactions. The way he looked was doing strange things to my insides and an emotion I didn’t recognise, beat within me like a drum. The kindness he showed me when I had been ill had started to grind down my defences.
Nixon also looked hot in black jeans and a black T-shirt. He was slightly taller than his brother and just as well-stacked, muscle-wise. Nixon’s hair was also dark brown but it was cropped close to his head, not exactly a buzz cut but still an army look. Mason’s ‘do’ was slightly longer with a kink to it. Hair that stuck out in all the right directions and encouraged a female to run her hands through it.
Together they packed a mean punch to the female regions. I told myself off for giving Nixon sexual appeal points, reminding myself he was doing my sister. Gross.
“Saddle Tiny for me,” Nixon commanded. “I want to see how he fairs.”
I almost smiled, did this guy know me at all? Telling me what to do would only end up with me doing the opposite. Even when my dad tried it.
“Nope.”
I crossed my arms over my chest, my eyebrows inching further toward my hairline. I was so glad I had my hair tied back; the breeze was cool against my neck.
“Do it, please. We’ve come here to view the horse as agreed with Pete. Text him if you don’t believe me. ”
I wasn’t being awkward, I was playing by the rules, “Why aren’t you in the book then? Maybe your dear old dad got it wrong.” As soon as the mean words were out, I regretted them.
“Maybe they’re shit at admin. Stop trying to stall and do it, Amy,” Nixon scolded in a stern voice. Like that would work. He wasn’t my brother and he certainly wasn’t my father.
I blew out a breath and stopped frowning. My forehead had started to hurt. “I can’t and even if I wanted to, I don’t know how.” I wasn’t shitting them; I hadn’t saddled a horse in years and was always too busy to watch Alex or Mr Lonsdale do it.
Mason jumped in there then, “You’re a liar, you had no problem saddling Mabel that time.” I hated that he brought Mabel up. That certainly wouldn’t ease the mood.
I decided to be honest and flicked my head back, my ponytail swishing like the tail of a horse.
“If you want the truth, I haven’t been on a horse since then. Couldn’t face it.”
“Why?” Mason shot out, totally dumbfounded.
“You know why, after what happened.” The conversation felt way too personal, especially with Nixon standing there with his eyes flicking between us.
“You mean because she was destroyed later?”
I nodded, “Yes, it was my fault. After what I did.”
Creases marked Mason’s forehead and he opened his mouth to speak but then thought better of it. Had he been about to chew me out for being the reason Mabel was put to sleep?
An odd vibe passed between us and Nixon cleared his throat, breaking the silence.
“We can do it. You probably won’t be able to lift it anyway. I imagine his tack will be heavy.”
I felt patronised even though he didn’t say it in that way. Still, I went with, “That’s sexist.”
Mason chuckled, “Nope, that’s genetics.”
“I’m stronger than I look,” I replied tartly, directly into my unwanted brother-in-law’s face. Mason drew back my attention when he grinned and said, “Yes, I remember you saying that the other week.” Reminding me of that day when he’d grabbed me at his place and threatened to put me over his knee. Taunting me to free myself when I had no fucking chance.
I gave in although I wouldn’t have said I did it gracefully. They were McKenna’s and determined to get their own way and there was nothing wrong with Nixon taking the horse out for a test run. Not really. He was like his brothers; they were all excellent horsemen. I would add them to the bookings book just in case anything went wrong, to cover myself.
After collecting some tack for Tiny from the equipment storage area, between them, Mason and Nixon expertly saddled him. I watched from my position by the gate. Mason’s hands were sure and strong as they stroked Tiny’s flanks, whispering in his ear and I wondered how it would feel to have those hands on me again.
I closed my eyes at the memory. My body needed to experience that feeling again, and soon.
Shaking off the thought, my ears pricked up as Nixon started asking questions about previous owners.
I didn’t have all the data; it was probably in Mr Lonsdale’s file on Tiny and so I could only answer certain things.
As Nixon concentrated on adjusting Tiny’s bridle, Mason and I stood side by side, watching his movements thoughtfully.
“Where’s Jenna?” I shouted over to Nixon.
He glanced at me with a guarded expression. What? I could make small talk when I wanted to.
“She’s got a job interview at a shop in the village,” he responded. I felt annoyed that he knew more about her whereabouts than me.
He met me halfway, but his small talk was shit and loaded to fuck.
“So, how’s the boyfriend,” my brother-in-law drawled, the amusement in his tone slight but it was still there.
“Gay as the day is long, I heard,” Mason put in quietly beside me.
Huffing out a breath, I shot him a sideways look. My eyes dripping with ice.
“Very funny. Yes, it turns out I don’t have the correct appendage. Alex is gay, so, what,” I replied .
Nixon twisted his head and shot me another look.
“He probably wasn’t before he met you,” he mocked. I hadn’t been interfering with him and Jenna this time around and so the fucker should have been noble and drawn a line in the sand but no, he still had to be a twat to me. And to think we were supposed to be family now. Whatever!
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You’re so cold, you probably turn any man over to the dark side of the force.”
The dark side of the force, was he trying to be homophobic to get a rise out of me. Probably, I knew he wasn’t like that as one of Nixon’s closest friends was gay.
“I’m not cold thank you very much,” I defended myself. The guy had no mercy even when I was on good-girl behaviour.
“OK, if not cold. How about uptight? Don’t you ever let go?”
“Oh, she lets go sometimes don’t you, Amy,” Mason cut in with a suggestive look. At that split second, I didn’t know what he was referring to. Part of me thought he meant that night at his house. Was he trying to suggest that we’d slept together to his brother?
I decided to call his bluff, “And when was that Mason,” I shot out.
My creased brow was bashed away as he enlightened me. Me and his fucking brother who stood only yards away, within hearing distance!
“Let’s just say I had my fingers inside you at the time.” He twisted his head to fire at Nixon. “She went up like a bonfire.”
BOOM. I almost died on the spot.
My mouth dropped open so wide that I was surprised my tonsils didn’t roll out.
Nixon gave a hoot of laughter and stoked Tiny’s neck. I had never been so embarrassed in all my life. And in front of Nixon, the one boy I hated more than any other in the world. A man who now had a huge smile on his face as he watched the show with a glint in his eye.
My temper skyrocketed and I turned on Mason and slapped him across the face, it was much harder than it had been at the beach and my arms flailed as I tried to get another one in but he subdued me. I didn’t make it easy for him.
“Fucking wildcat, calm the fuck down,” Mason grunted as I tried to claw at his face .
Swearing at him under my breath, I heard Nixon say, “You need to get a leash on that one.” That comment knocked my fury up into the next gear.
Cursing himself as I caught his cheekbone with my nails, Mason growled, and he grabbed me, his grip tighter, spinning me around so my back pressed against his chest and he locked my arms by my sides with his. He then lifted me off my feet.
“I have every intention of that brother,” Mason bit out between clenched teeth as he held me in the air with my feet dangling. I struggled so hard my wellies fell off, my stockinged feet thrashing.
“Let me go, Mason, I mean it. Or I’ll kill you,” I screamed. “Nixon, tell him to let me go. You’re supposed to be family,” I panted breathlessly.
He stopped what he was doing and turned away from Tiny.
“ Now we’re family? Bit late to play that card. It’s amazing how the tide turns when you want something you little witch,” he replied between gritted teeth. His face was unreadable as he watched me fighting against the iron bars that were Mason’s arms. He could probably have squeezed the breath from my body he was that strong.
A moan fell from my mouth as those arms tightened around me.
“Mason, please,” I pleaded, struggling against him.
“Calm the fuck down, little fury,” Mason whispered gruffly.
“ Please .”
His mouth hit the cuff of my ear and he whispered, “I love it when you beg, princess.”
“Nixon!” I yelled.
“Sorry darling, you’re on your own,” my brother-in-law bounced back without shame.
A thought occurred to me as I felt Mason’s body flex, almost like he was losing his grip and he shunted me up to improve his hold.
“I’ll tell Jenna!” I screeched.
Nixon snorted under his breath, “She wouldn’t give a shit. Even Jen admits you need to be taken in hand.”
And I hated him even more at that second .
“Excuse us,” Mason suddenly grunted before setting off in the direction of the main barn, with sure, purposeful strides. He shot back at Nixon over his shoulder, “Enjoy your ride,” motioning toward the horse with a flick of his head.
Nixon omitted a chuckle, “Enjoy yours too brother.” Motioning toward us with a raised hand.
“I intend to,” Mason growled under his breath as he carried me into the barn. I wasn’t stupid, I knew exactly what they meant. A torrent of emotion raced through me at what was coming next.
My heart was pounding with a mixture of fear and excitement. Things were going to get physical. I faintly heard Tiny’s hooves clap against the tarmac as Nixon led her out of the yard and toward the exercise field.
Mason controlled my flailing limbs with ease, his strong arms wrapped across my rib cage sitting just below my breasts. I strained against him but Mason just whispered, “Now, now. Keep still or you’ll hurt yourself. You can’t really think you’ll get free before I decide to let you go?”
“If you touch me again, I’ll hate you Mason,” I snorted.
I felt him exhale against my hair, “You already hate me, so what do I have to lose? And don’t pretend you didn’t enjoy the last time. I made you cum so hard you could hardly fucking stand.”
The wind was knocked from me as he dropped me to my feet and released me. He then turned me sharply in his arms so my backside was forced into a sitting position on one of the hale bales at my back. All that spinning was making me dizzy.
My arms which had been trapped, were free and I made to push him away but he grabbed my wrists and shoved me down so my back was against the surface of the bale. He separated my legs with his knee and pushed between them to get closer. I could feel he was rock hard and turned on by our struggle but so was I. Heat pooled between my thighs, and I enjoyed how rough he was with me. It didn’t hurt really; his movements were just sure and confident. Firm.
That sexual pull I felt toward him took off, drowning out my annoyance .
Mason anchored my wrists against the bale, one hand trapped on either side of my head, bending over me. The core of his body rubbed against mine and I arched my back.
“There are other more pleasant things you can do with that mouth. But I don’t think you’re ready for that, just yet,” he growled down at me, his eyes on said area. I knew he was referring to a blow job. I was inexperienced but I knew some stuff. How could I not, Betty told me every, last fricking detail. She was so graphic, you almost felt like you were there. A fucked-up thought, I know. There were occasions when I couldn’t look James in the eye without blushing.
Mason’s chest pushed against me as I lay there with my legs spread, trapped. He was going to kiss me; I could feel it and my pulse took off, my lips parting, a blatant invitation. I was about to feel my nemesis’s mouth against mine again.
Mason lowered his dark head and rammed his mouth over mine with force, pushing my head into the straw. I exhaled sharply down my nose, the air pushed from my lungs which were partly covered by Mason’s bulk.
The kiss was hard and demanding, almost like a punishment and my resolve exploded. The fingers of my trapped hands curled into my palms.
That moment his lips met mine I lost my shit. Everything inside me hummed. Mason drove his tongue into my mouth, licking, nibbling, and taking everything that I had to give. The kiss was carnal, intended to dominate, like the way a man does a woman during sex. As he’d once baited, he was the giver and I the taker and I loved it.
My body was liquid fire and I followed Mason’s lead, slanting my head to allow a better fit and in turn deeper access to my mouth. I moaned against him with delight.
Tugging my wrists further upwards, Mason took them in one hand and held them above my head, leaving me helpless. He ground his cock between my legs, his jeans rubbing against me through the thinness of my shorts and I parted my thighs more, needing to be closer to that sensation I felt down there.
Desire slammed into me like a hurricane against a coastline. My blood was reaching boiling point.
Mason leaned further into me, pinning my body against the bale. His grip on my wrists gentled and his free hand ran down my face, skimming my collarbone before cupping my neck and moving my mouth where he wanted it to go. His tongue was driving me wild.
I inhaled as those fingers then swept between my cleavage and continued to travel to where the bottom of my T-shirt fell. The skin of my midriff twitched as his hand slid beneath the cotton and up to cover one of my breasts which he cupped in one strong hand. It was the first time anyone had touched me there and it felt amazing . I was on fire through the lace of my bra and my nipples were rock-hard. I moaned as Mason ran his thumb back and forth over one, forcing a sob between my lips and my body almost jack-knifed against his hand.
It felt fricking amazing, even better than at the beach and that night of the fight and I could feel myself starting to lose control. I kissed him back like my life depended on it and tugged at my wrists as I needed to touch him. He released me and my hands cupped his face, tugging his mouth further against mine. Greedily, drinking him in. My legs wrapped around his waist.
Mason’s other hand found its way under my shirt and he played with me there to the point where I thought I was going to burst.
As we continued the sexual battle that I had surrendered to, I felt one of Mason’s hands move from my breast towards the buttons on his jeans. He pulled back, the contact of our mouths breaking and his eyes tangled with mine. They were heavy from desire and we were both panting, our breath whooshing uncontrollably from our chests.
I watched with heavy-lidded eyes as Mason slowly started to unbutton his jeans, his face determined and full of sexual intentions. This was it. I was going to have sex and my first time would be with Mason. I didn’t care where we were, there was only us and nothing else to worry about. I needed him, needed this!
“Are you protected,” he suddenly murmured into my neck. His breath was warm and fresh against my skin. My heart was beating out of my chest.
My sanity slowly started to return as I realised what he was asking.
“No, of course not. I’ve never done this before,” I reminded him. I’d told him I was a virgin when he’d grilled me at the pub that time. Why on earth would I be on the pill ?
Mason released a sigh of frustration, his fingers stopping against the buttons of his jeans. He pushed his forehead against mine and the sound he made was like a groan of pain.
“I don’t have anything on me. Shit!” Mason said, cursing harshly at the fact that he didn’t have any condoms with him. As he pulled back, a muscle in his jaw ticked and that’s when I realised my T-shirt had been pushed up and my breasts were showing through the pink lace of my bra.
Noticing my concern. Mason bent forward and covered me, pulling down my tee, fighting with his own sexual frustration. It was bouncing off us both in waves.
He had stopped. Mason had put an end to the madness. And there I was with my legs open for him like some type of easy lay.
He redid his jeans with a masked expression, but I knew he was severely pissed off. Maybe at himself for not having any protection.
No words came, I felt so embarrassed at the way I had behaved again . I had literally been about to let Mason McKenna shag me with or without protection. At that moment, I hadn’t given a shit. He was the one to come to his senses which surely meant he hadn’t been as far gone as me. And of course, he wouldn’t have been. Mason would have done this a load of times. I was just another one in a long line of girls he’d had sex with. Although obviously, we hadn’t quite got there. It hadn’t been special, who the hell was I trying to fool?
He stood looking down at me, his eyes searching my face and I had never felt so exposed and vulnerable. Embarrassment thrummed through me, rocking my body. I now felt worse than I had after the beach incident. Why the hell was I doing this to myself?
I rolled off the hay bale, readjusted my clothes and brushed back my hair which I could feel had straw in it. As fucking usual, Mason recovered much quicker than me as he watched my movements with a guarded look.
Without another word, I pushed past him and walked out into the yard, stomping over to the large wooden gate.
My hands were shaking and I wasn’t myself .
Nixon was just coming back into the yard; he had Tiny at a trot. He looked between us both with a knowing look, “That was quick.”
Mason approached me from behind and I turned, his face had softened. Almost like he was sorry.
“Are you OK?” he whispered as Nixon dismounted and led the horse to the front of his stable.
Attempting to make my voice even I bit out, “I’m fine but I’ll be better when you’ve left,” I snapped, pointing a finger out of the gate.
Mason released a tired sigh, “I can’t leave you like this, why don’t I take you home?”
Pursing my lips, I shook my head, “I need to rub Tiny down. Please just go. You’ve done enough.”
I could see behind his shoulder that Nixon was in the process of dismounting.
“And that’s where you’re wrong. I didn’t, we didn’t and it’s probably for the best, Amy. You don’t have to look so pissed. You were with me one hundred percent and you know it.”
Before I could stop myself, I had to ask the question that had been dying to push itself out there since he’d arrived.
Giving into that need to drill him, I said, “Why didn’t you say anything?”
His thick brow threaded, and his eyes were glued to mine, “About what?”
I took a deep breath.
“About what happened at the beach, what we did? I thought you were going to tell Alex.”
He rolled his eyes, “I don’t kiss and tell, Amy. It’s not my style.”
“But you just did, in front of Nixon?”
“That’s different, he’s, my brother. I tell Nixon everything.” Great, and no doubt he’d love the next fucking instalment!
I digested his words, regretting that niggling desire to have brought that subject up when I had almost gone to the next step with him seconds ago.
In a sad voice, I said, “You don’t think much of me, do you? ”
He closed his eyes in a God give me strength motion before his lip curled. “To be honest, I don’t think about you at all. Not usually. Maybe I’m going through an early mid-life crisis? Maybe we both are?”
“Mase, a hand please,” Nixon shouted, his voice booming with impatience.
My shoulders slumped and what I really wanted to ask died in my throat, “Look, whatever. I have nothing more to say to you. We’re done.”
He dashed a hand through his hair, “Fine, be like that. But we both know this isn’t over. Not really.”
I recalled his words by his truck that day. The ones I couldn’t decode and echoed.
“It never even started Mason,” I repeated his own comment back at him. Anger now boiled my blood again.
“Your strength is arousing Amy, but so is the thought of breaking you. You’d do well to remember that.”
“I’m not one of your fucking horses Mason,” I growled annoyed that his words made that place between my thighs sing.
Nixon shouted at Mason again for assistance and after a look that could have fused metal, he growled and went to help his brother with Tiny’s saddle.
I stood there leaning against the gate in my socks with my arms folded over my breasts. Watching them in brooding silence. Mason recovered well as he laughed and joked with his brother.
Before they left, Nixon said he’d put a deposit down and that he’d be back before the weekend to see Mr Lonsdale about a price.
As he spoke to me, he didn’t make any gibes of any kind and I wondered what he thought had just happened between his brother and I. Mason didn’t even look at me as they left and at that point, I had never felt more alone in my life.
I inhaled a shaky breath and after putting my wellies back on and retrieving my cap, I finished rubbing Tiny down and locked the horses in for the night.
Wishing for it to be true, I silently chanted my Mantra, I hate Mason, I hate Mason . It only made me feel worse.
I felt like he was punishing me in some way by having turned our relationship into something else. He was the one who started it when we were by his truck that day and then in the pub. I remembered his sex worker comment and how his eyes had roamed up and down my body.
Why was I suddenly allowing the guy to ruin my life? Yes, I had gone out of my way as a child to make his life a living hell, but shouldn’t that be left in the past? Surely, he should have been able to bury the hatchet by now, it was almost like he had some type of grown-up sexual vendetta. Unless he actually liked me?
Snorting to myself, I pushed that thought away. What was there to like when I was so prickly all the time?
As I walked home, I reminded myself of all the mean things we’d said to each other over the years.