Chapter 17
Em
I zip through my apartment to put on the finishing touches and give my hair another fluff in the mirror:
Volume—check.
Makeup—check.
Outfit—double check.
I’m wearing a black tank top, paired with black combat boots and a short, pleated black and pink skirt. I want to feel Ash’s bike against bare skin. I know it’s reckless in case we crash, but lust has overwritten my common sense.
I give my fashion choice a light laugh. I look more like a punk now than I dared to back in high school.
What a difference 10 years can make…
But it’s really the last month that has made such an impact on my confidence. I have no one but myself to answer to. No guilt. No inhibitions. It’s everything I ever wanted.
I like to think it’s my newfound independence that brought it on, but I know it’s more than that, and when the pounding knock on my apartment door jolts my heart up into my throat, it’s the confirmation I can’t deny.
Someone must’ve let him into the building .
A giddy grin forms on my lips. For a moment, I do feel like a teenager again.
“Coming!”
I swipe the hoodie from my bed before rushing down the hallway, but when I open the door, it’s not Ash’s familiar smile I encounter.
“Mason!” I yelp in surprise, my fingers clenching around the sweatshirt in my hand.
The one he’s wearing is not the same black one he had on in the alley—this one has the auto shop logo on the front—but I can still tell him apart from his brother.
“I thought Ash was taking me out.” Did they pull a switch on me again?
“He is.”
Mason takes an uninvited step inside as I half-stumble backward in shock. My mouth hangs open.
“But that doesn’t mean I can’t fuck you first.” The door slams shut behind him, and then he’s on me, bearing down on me with his staggering height.
My mouth goes dry as I can’t seem to close it while my accelerated pulse chokes my breath.
His eyes drop down, and he tips his head, teeth pinching his bottom lip.
I follow the motion as his hungry gaze drifts down my body, taking in every inch of my bare legs in slow, scrutinizing detail.
His attention makes my skin prickle.
“Look at you, baby girl. All dolled up,” he drawls with a suggestive lilt, stepping into me .
But I’m not game. I press my hands to his chest, stopping him from making further advances. “Am I just a number to you?” I bark, annoyed by the generic term of endearment. “Interchangeable with all the other ‘baby girls’ that came before me?”
I guess, unlike Ash, Mason can’t be bothered with remembering the names of his many hookup’s.
“No, Emily. You’re not,” he says with a sigh.
I scoff, unimpressed. “I’m surprised you know my name.” He’s never used it. “I assume Ash passed that on to you, like everything else I told him about me.”
“No.” He releases another sigh, his hands coming up to clasp my face, and his stunning green eyes holding mine. “I read your name on your doorbell when I followed you home that first night.”
My stomach drops.
And just like that I do wish he got my name from his brother instead of stalking me all the way home without my knowledge.
I stare at him blankly.
But my chagrin fades when he lowers himself to me. His mouth melts to mine as his hands shift and broad palms cradle my head while his fingers dance through my hair, pulling it lightly.
My body arches into him, compelled by the growing need to feel him against me.
With his tongue teasing mine in slow, exhilarating strokes, there’s something else that’s distinctly him:
Sandalwood and spice .
I recognize it from the bandana Ash blindfolded me with. It wasn’t the detergent or dryer sheets. It was Mason’s cologne.
The scent heats my chest and winds a slow path down to the empty space between my thighs.
I ache for him to fill it.
My hands slide up his chest to link behind his neck as I draw more of him into me. His body pressed to mine, Mason follows my lead, kissing me deeper, and winding me up with the slick curling motion of his tongue.
He feels so different from Ash.
They might look identical, but there’s something sinister about Mason. He never really smiles.
Ash is uncomplicated: what you see is what you get. But Mason? Mason is an abyss of mysteries that pulls me into its depths.
His darkness already has a hold on me.
His right hand skates down my front, rolling my hard nipple with his thumb as he squeezes my breast briefly.
I moan against his lips. I’m not wearing a bra under the ribbed tank, and the friction of his touch is sweet agony.
My anticipation builds with every inch he sinks lower down my stomach, and I feel the slickness gathering between my thighs. My clit hums with the heightened sensation from the soaked material now covering me.
A soft chuckle weaves through his voice. “I like the easy access.”
Mason’s hand reaches the flared hem of my skirt and dips under. His fingertips rise slowly along the inside of my thigh, inching my skirt higher in the process .
He slides his fingers in at the side of my underwear, his knuckles tracing my slick seam. “Who is this for, Em?” He flicks his tongue at me, taunting. “Tell me.”
“For you,” I reply.
“Me… who?”
“Mason. For you, Mason,” I moan his name more desperately.
“That’s right. Mine! ” he growls in satisfaction. “All of it.”
Then he pulls away, undoing his pants and shoving them down before taking my left leg and hiking it over his hip.
Hands at the back of my thighs, he opens me up, aligning himself, and then thrusts into me.
Oh God! Pinning me to the wall, he spears me in one go.
I grip his shoulders as he stretches me to the max, my breath caught in my throat by the sudden invasion. My legs tremble.
Mason retreats, then fills me again, just as smooth and steady as before. His left forearm braced against the wall beside my head, he rails me hard and deep with each thrust, the ladder piercings along the top side of his shaft stroking my clit on every determined drive.
He winds us up, we climb fast, panting as our bodies meet again and again. I feel the tension cresting. That tingling in my core. I’m so close already.
“I want my cum dripping out of you when you spread your legs for him,” he rasps.
I hear the rumble of Ash’s motorcycle as he rolls up outside, and realize I never heard Mason’s. Where did he park it ?
We’re still in the full swing of things in the hallway when he knocks on the door.
He’s right there waiting for me to answer.
I can’t call out.
I’m so fucking close.
Oh God… I’m going to —
“Tell him you’re coming,” Mason’s rough whisper dares me.
My mouth opens as my orgasm explodes so deep in my core I think I might black out. But Mason’s hand clamps down over it to muffle me as he thrusts his hips into me faster and harder, pounding out his own release.
His breath hot and ragged at my throat where his face nestles in the crook of my neck, he spears me one last time then stills with a shudder I feel through the connection of our bodies.
“I want to see you in that skirt again.” He presses a kiss to the corner of my jaw and releases me before stepping back.
I sag against the wall, my legs weak. The last I see of him is his silhouette disappearing out of my bedroom window down the hall.