Chapter 13 #2
Breaking through to the night air again, we kissed, water trickling between open mouths, racing over shoulders.
When Mason lowered his head to kiss my throat, I cast a nervous glance around the pool area, ensuring we were still alone without any unwanted voyeurs—or any golden-eyed demons. Thankfully, I didn’t see anything.
Mason cupped my ass, fingers dipping under the edge of my swimsuit bottoms, encouraging me to tilt my hips and grind on him. I did.
The pool was warm, which felt safer for some reason.
The ocean had always been cold, only tolerable by my proximity to Mason, but this was pleasant all around.
Shallow waves licked at my sides, brushing my waist and ribs as Mason mauled my neck, biting violet marks into my skin.
Staining me with visible proof of his dark need.
I slipped one hand down between us to untie his swim trunks, then pushed my fingers under his waistband.
He tilted his head upward, our mouths colliding again as I reached down further to grab his dick, clumsily stroking him. The resistance of the water along with the angle of my wrist made it difficult, but I didn’t care.
“Shit,” Mason hissed, dragging his lips along my jaw, massaging my ass.
I leaned into him, forcing his mouth back onto mine, tangling our tongues together as he started breathing harder.
I tried squeezing my grip tighter, twisting my fingers around the head of his cock, but the non-stretch fabric of his swim trunks was doing me no favors.
Mason freed one of his hands to push down his waistband in the front to fully expose his erection, then returned his palm to my ass, sliding my bikini halfway to the side.
I whined into his mouth, my hair curling around us in the water, Mason’s fingers getting closer and closer to my center. I stroked him better, squeezed him tighter, my hips rocking unconsciously.
Both of us looked down between us at my hand working his cock in the water. It was hard to see, everything distorted through ripples, but the flashes of my black nail polish and his unobstructed skin were enough to drive Mason insane.
He released me.
And then he started pushing my head down.
My eyes collided with his, green and brown, the same addiction glazing over our irises.
Force me. Use me.
Fuck my mouth while you drown me.
We both knew why we were here, in the pool, instead of in his bed.
I pressed my palms to his taut abdomen, knees bending, leaning forward to skate my tongue over his carved abs, taking a final inhale, going down, down, down until I was entirely submerged. Water smothered my face, my fingers curling in his waistband.
Mason held the sides of my head and guided my lips to his cock.
I took him in my mouth, my heart fluttering wildly as I tried to adjust to the sensation of the water surrounding me, tried to stop water from getting in my nose. It was slightly awkward and unnatural, not as comfortable as a blowjob above water, but I was so turned on that I didn’t really care.
Everything moved slower down here, all my motions dragging out through liquid, sensations stretching in my brain.
His cock was thick and heavy and hot on my tongue, pushing deeper, the slight taste of chlorine hitting the back of my throat. Water got in my nose when I tilted my head wrong and I tried to pull away, but Mason wasn’t going to let that happen.
My pulse jumped.
He shoved his dick into my throat, holding the back of my head to make me take him deep. I gagged and pressed my palms to his thighs, but he overpowered me. There was something perversely erotic about how easily he held me below him, how simply he disregarded my struggle for air.
My thighs pressed together and my head was blaring with panic, but arousal was swollen in my veins.
I’m just a toy for him to use.
I was half-terrified, half-addicted.
I could describe most of my encounters with Mason using that phrase.
I envisioned him above the surface, filthy pleasure swarming his senses, looking down at me through choppy water, watching me struggle in vain beneath ripples. His strong hand on my head, keeping me down as long as he wanted, controlling whether I lived or died.
And I knew just how much he liked that shit.
I liked it, too.
In your worst fantasies, what am I doing to you?
Finally, he let me come up for air.
I burst through the surface as soon as I got the opportunity, panting and coughing and choking on pool water.
My hand didn’t leave his groin though, and I kept stroking him as I tried to stop my mind from spinning.
I should’ve hated him, and maybe I did in some part of my brain, but most of me didn’t hate him at all.
“You good?” he asked, running his hands along my waist.
“Would you stop if I said no?” I questioned.
He kissed me instead of answering.
My sick, stupid heart fluttered.
His large hand slid up my ribs to palm my breast, thumb sweeping over my nipple through my soaked bathing suit.
Before I had enough time to fully catch my breath, Mason pushed me under the water again. My pussy was throbbing, my tight nipples pressing against black fabric, my bikini wet and tight and clinging to every sensitive part of my body.
He slowly started to fuck my mouth, pushing deeper with each thrust.
It was so overwhelming and my lungs were already burning, but that sensation kept spreading through my entire body until it felt euphoric. The burn became an ache, and the ache fed my lust. I wanted to make him come like this—while I held my breath.
I kept my fingers wrapped around the thick base of his cock, his massive length pushing into the back of my throat, my eyes squeezed shut.
His shaft was hot against my tongue, his veins pulsing as he got rougher.
Every thrust drove me deeper into the depraved fantasy of this, my hair swirling around my shoulders, floating in the water like silk.
The fabric of my swimsuit was still bunched and twisted tight between my thighs, and it was rubbing on me, making my clit swell further.
I was dizzy with arousal and the lack of oxygen getting to my brain.
The water had a way of smudging away every terrible thing, all the rot and corrosion that usually tainted my relationship with Mason.
It forced me to stop thinking about all my anxieties, because now I only had one anxiety: if I was going to live through this or die for it.
This was the only thing that mattered, the only thing that could matter.
My body kept trying to rise instinctively, buoyancy pushing me towards the surface, but Mason’s firm grip kept me down. With him, I didn’t float. Neither of us did.
Mason flexed his hips, making me choke, and water rushed into my mouth, stinging in my nose. It was suddenly everywhere. His palm remained unrelenting on the back of my skull through my struggle.
My heartbeat thundered in my ears, sounds swishing around me.
I need to breathe again, but he’s not going to let me.
Convulsions started in my lungs, my ribs spasming, the need for air starting to overtake the need to make him come. No.
I bent my legs and planted my feet on the textured bottom of the pool, attempting to push upward. It didn’t work. Of course it didn’t work. It never did.
Mason’s dick was simply shoved farther into my mouth.
No, no, no.
I regret this, I think.
I don’t know.
I could already imagine the violence of air in my lungs when he finally let me surface again, the rush of noise and sensation, water spilling and dripping, his wet skin crushed to mine, all that toxic gravity yanking us back together.
There was too much instability, too much obsession, too much everything between us. All the lies, all the destruction, all the hurt. None of it was sustainable, and I didn’t see it stopping anytime soon. It scared me. He scared me.
My terrible thoughts crashed and collided together in my skull like stormy ocean waves, terror and lust twisting into the same complicated knot that’d haunted me for years.
Every fearful word my brain conjured was instantly replaced by sexual sensation, and I didn’t have enough oxygen in my blood to fix that now.
How long had I been down here?
My jaw ached.
Awful heat coiled low in my belly.
He was doing something so terrible to me. So, so terrible.
I like it, but I can’t. I don’t.
This is too much.
Stop. Please, stop.
More water got in my mouth and chlorine dripped in the back of my throat, which made me nauseous. My swimsuit bottoms kept rubbing the side of my clit when I twisted and bucked my hips.
He wasn’t going to let me breathe until he climaxed.
Gripping his base tighter, I took as much of him into my mouth as I could, using my free hand to cup and massage his balls. My heart was slamming on my ribs, ricocheting around my chest. My lungs were going to explode.
Let me go.
He was holding me under longer this time, longer than the ocean or the bathtub, longer than ever before.
Longer than I thought I was capable of.
He always waited one second too long. Maybe that was the point.
Maybe I needed to stop romanticizing that before he actually just fucking killed me.
I really need to breathe.
Now.
He doesn’t care.
He will never care.
I couldn’t focus, couldn’t think. I instinctively pushed my feet against the bottom of the pool again, but Mason’s palms on my shoulders were always heavier.
I sucked him harder, more desperately, praying that he’d come before I passed out.
Every second that ticked past only weakened me further, dragging my mind into darkness. Horror wrapped a vise around my skull.
I was so incurably addicted to the feeling of this that I’d forgotten how fucked up it was. I’d forgotten what the consequences of this game were. Their permanence.
What happens if I lose consciousness underwater? Do I die?
Warm water or cold, I will drown the same. In a bathtub or the vast ocean, I will still float lifeless.
The water itself doesn’t matter, because the most dangerous thing here is always him.
He released me just as he shot down my throat.