Chapter 8 – Mason
That had gone well.
After slamming out of Leslie’s dorm, I considered going to the gym and working out my aggression on some weights, since I couldn’t work it out on Leslie’s virgin pussy.
Virgin. I groaned and slapped my hand against the wall. She was mine, and would only ever be mine, and all I fucking wanted was to get my mouth on her and find out what mine tasted like.
So much had changed since this summer. Since the night I’d met her at the wedding. Leslie had changed everything. Changed me. With her sass, her spark, the way she stood up for herself, even though it was clear I terrified her. The sweetness she shared with her mom, sweetness I wanted badly for myself. The submissive way she’d responded to me in the pool that night.
And even though she’d never told me directly, I knew from Paul that her father’s betrayal and departure from her life had hurt her, badly. It pissed me off that he could abandon her like that, and it made me understand her better. I’d lost my mom because she died, not because she’d had a second family. Still, I understood what it was like, to be missing that love and stability from your life. We were opposites, mirror images, and would snap together like puzzle pieces—once she let me get close enough.
Yes, she was mine, she just didn’t realize it yet.
But she would.
Meanwhile, I had to make sure she was safe, and everyone else knew who she belonged to—and to keep their hands off her.
With that in mind, I doubled back, passing Leslie’s closed door—where she was no doubt reeling from our interaction. I continued down the hall, ignoring the looks I was getting from the girls standing outside their rooms, barely taking the time to nod at the guys holding out their fists to bump mine.
“Mason, bro! We’re going to go all the way to the championships this year with you on the team!” Some freshman said.
“Hell yeah we are!” his friend said, taking the fist bump I’d passed up.
It should’ve surprised me that people already knew who I was before the year even started, but it didn’t. Hockey was huge at Tabb, and my reputation preceded me. In the past, that would have meant everything. Now, I had something that mattered even more than hockey and my ego—and she was only a hallway away from some asshole who wanted to stick his dick in her.
Leslie would never let him, but I didn’t trust him. I was her protector now, and like I’d told her RA, no one—no one—would even come close to “nailing” anything.
Driving home that point wouldn’t hurt.
“Yeah, man, thanks,” I said. “Do you know where the assh—the RA’s room is?”
His friend pointed down the hall. “Three doors down on the left, man.”
“Thanks.” I ducked my chin and continued on down until I reached Chris’ room.
I knocked twice—hard and loud.
The door swung open, framing that pitiful asshole as he stared up at me.
“You,” he said, disappointed and pissed.
“Me,” I confirmed, putting my hand on the doorframe before he could shut the door in my face.
Sighing, he gave in, crossing his arms over his chest to look tough. “What do you want?”
It didn’t work.
I shook my head. “Leslie’s a sweet girl.”
He snorted. “I figured that much out.”
I ignored this. “As a sweet girl, she’s too nice to enforce appropriate boundaries with men who might want to take…advantage…of her kindness.”
His face went red. “I wouldn’t ever take advantage,” he spluttered.
“No? Well, let’s keep it that way. See, Leslie may not be good at enforcing boundaries, but she doesn’t need to be.”
“Let me guess, because she has you, right?” he scoffed.
“Exactly. Because she has me. You don’t want to fuck with me, Kyle.”
“Chris.”
I ignored that, too. “If I hear from her—or anyone—that you were anything but distantly polite to her, the way an RA should be—you’ll have to answer to me. You got me?”
The redness on his face traveled to his neck. “How brotherly of you,” he sneered.
This dick.
I didn’t bother to correct him again. “You got me?” I repeated.
“I got you. Although from what I observed, it doesn’t seem like she really wants you around, does she? Jocks like you always think you’ll win. But you may not this time.”
I gritted my teeth and counted to ten. Punching this guy before classes even started would get me in a hell of trouble with my coach—and my father, if he found out about it. Chris had heard the threat, and he’d stay away from Leslie…or he’d have me to answer to.
“I’ll let you get back to jerking off to sad porn,” I told him, wiggling my fingers in a wave. “See you, Kyle.”
“Fucker,” he muttered, as I stepped away from the door and closed it for him—in his shocked face.
That mission complete, I considered my next move with Leslie. She wasn’t going to bend easily, or admit that she wanted me, not yet anyway.
“Hi, Mason,” a girl giggled, playing with her hair and thrusting her chest out at me.
I wanted to bark at her that I was taken. There hadn’t been a hand, mouth, or pussy wrapped around my dick since that night in the pool with Leslie. And there wouldn’t be, as angry as my dick was from the lack of action.
That said…
I remembered the way Leslie had reacted to Tiffanie this summer. She wanted me, and if I felt this territorial over her, it stood to reason she felt the same way about me. So I considered my options. If kissing my butterfly hadn’t gotten her where I needed her, maybe jealousy would do the trick.
Huh.
Maybe the old Mason—the one who was a dick to my butterfly, and gave attention to other girls—needed to come out for a spin. There was no wake up call like seeing someone else’s hands on what was yours. And while Leslie abhorred violence, I didn’t. The idea of her scratching some meaningless girl’s eyes out for putting her hands on me? That was a cat fight I could get behind.
With that pleasant thought, I whistled, sauntering down the hallway and out of Leslie’s dorm, grinning and winking at the girls and nodding at the guys as I went.
Time to use a little bit of that Calloway magic. I’d known I’d need to do some wrong to finally get what was right—Leslie, submissive in my arms.
I couldn’t fucking wait.