Chapter 32
Sebastian
I’d been, what I considered a virgin, for the first twenty-two years of my life. After my ‘ relationship’ with Alex, I didn’t want sex, I didn’t crave it, and I most certainly didn’t need it to start my mornings.
But, after living with Mason for less than a year, every day that didn’t start with sex, or at least head, felt like a waste. The longest I could go without sporting a chub was my first cigarette, and even that was pushing it.
For the last two weeks, Cameron helped fill the void, but today he’d been too on edge.
Right now, he was over at Leona’s, hopefully smoothing things over.
And that left me to stand in the shower, hot water pouring down my back, dick in my hand like a horny teenager. Should I be masturbating right now?
Uh, no. Absolutely not.
But I was just as nervous as Cameron, if not more so, and I needed a way to expel some energy.
My eyes sealed shut as I leaned against the cool glass wall separating my shower from the rest of the bathroom.
I let my forehead thunk against the glass, tepid water running down my face, mixing with the sweat slicking my skin. My grip tightened, not because I was close, but because my brain wouldn’t shut the fuck up.
Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Mason. Not in a sexual way. Okay, maybe in a little bit of a sexual way, but that’s only because I was apparently into fucked up stuff. Not like anal, or sounding, or even being pissed on, that I could explain away as a baseless kink.
Instead, my arousal came from the mundane.
Waking up next to her when the morning light was still low. Kissing her when our eyes were barely open. Rubbing her shoulders while she breastfed. The sound she made when she flopped face-first onto the bed after a long day. The way Mason snorted and turned red if she laughed too hard.
My dick twitched at the idea, and I rubbed my cock a little faster, my lips parting at the all too distant memory of Mason, standing at the counter, dressed in my shirt, packing lunches for the rest of the house.
Heat rose in my chest, and I breathed slowly, begging myself to have some semblance of dignity and not cum from that.
Jesus Christ, why couldn’t I just be into BDSM like the rest of the house?
At least then I could explain it. Chain me up, choke me out, call me a bitch, smack my ass, call me a sub. That nice, clean label would make it so no one knew how pathetic I was.
But no. My cock twitched over the image of Mason being the domestic goddess she was. My hand sped up when I remembered the way she hummed to herself while folding laundry, and the closer I got, the more I wanted to slam my fist into the wall instead.
Because I wasn’t jerking off to sex.
I was jerking off to home.
And, I’d ruined my home by killing her mom.
My breath came ragged as I pressed my forehead harder into the glass, my fist twisting around my cock like I could wring the guilt out of me with every stroke. Fuck, I needed therapy.
Fuck–I needed therapy.
Fuck–
“Seb!” Cameron’s drawl boomed from the bottom of the house. “Come downstairs!”
My eyes snapped open as I drew in a breath. The world was blurry, thanks to my lack of glasses, but that didn’t fucking matter. No way in hell was I going downstairs fully erect.
I braced a hand against the foggy glass as I tried to force my body to just hurry up and cum so I could go down and ask Cameron how everything went. My heart pounded harder, and my body tensed as I prepared to beat myself into release, and then the door creaked open.
I froze, hand locked onto my cock.
Soft steps cut through the hiss of water, and my heart nearly beat out of my skin.
“Sebastian?” Mason’s accent hit my ears with all the force of a freight train.
God, if you’re real, kill me right now.
“H–hey, Princess.” I tried to sound even, but my words rattled like dead leaves on a branch. “I–I didn’t know you would be home today.”
“I didn’t plan on it, but things change… we’re having a family meeting downstairs.”
“I’ll be there i-in just a second.” My voice cracked halfway through, and I hoped to God she didn’t notice.
But her outline meandered closer to the fogged glass, and before I could stop what I was doing, the door wrenched open.
Cold air rushed in, and there she stood. Still blurry as fuck, but close enough for me to start making out her features. I’d like to say I kept my cool, but that’d be a lie.
I screamed like I’d just seen a spider and used both hands to cover my dick.
Mason jerked back at the sound and covered her eyes, like that would erase the total evasion of privacy.
“I’m sorry!” she squeaked.
Enough sense returned to me to shut off the shower and grab a towel from the nearby rack.
I yanked the towel around my waist, nearly tripping in the process. My glasses were somewhere on the sink, but I wasn’t about to stumble around half-blind with my dick swinging around.
“There’s no need to be sorry,” I breathed, just glad to have her back.
Mason audibly swallowed before parting her fingers. I couldn’t tell what she was looking at, but I assumed it was anything other than my crotch.
“I like your hair,” she said shyly.
With one hand on the towel, I speared the other through my hair, only vaguely remembering the blue roots–well, they were supposed to be blue. But the natural brassy color of my hair bled through, leaving it a dull green.
“Thank you… I like yours too.”
That was a bold-faced lie. I hated the silver streaks, mostly because I knew Mason likely detested them.
“Do you need help?” she asked, extending a finger towards my waist.
I froze, discreetly pinched myself to make sure this was real, and stepped out onto the ledge separating the shower from the bathroom.
The shower wasn’t too raised, but just a few inches was enough to bring Mason exactly waist level, and while this felt like too good of an opportunity to waste, I didn’t trust it.
“Princess, we just had the biggest fucking argument of our lives, why would you suck my dick?” Somehow, boiling this down to an argument felt like it diminished what actually happened.
Mason lifted a shoulder.
“It feels normal for us, and I really need that bit of normalcy,” she softly admitted.
“Well, fuck, who am I to stop you from using my body?” Especially when I needed that normalcy just as much, if not more than she did.
Without another word, I dropped the towel, allowing it to pool around my ankles. Mason stepped closer, finger trailing up my stomach.
“Your abs are gone,” she said, almost absent-mindedly.
“Nope,” I breathed, twining my fingers in her hair and pulling her closer. “I’ve been getting drunk every night and eating like shit for the last two weeks—they’re just hidden.”
“Why?”
Slowly, I worked her hair into a ponytail using my hands.
“Because I’ve missed you, and the kids, and I’ve felt like shit because I thought I lost you for good,” I rasped. “Plus, I’m twenty-three, that means I can do dumb shit when the mood strikes.”
“Almost twenty-four,” she corrected.
And I nodded.
“Almost twenty-four.” Not that I needed a reminder of my birthday.
The Fourth of July was pretty hard to forget for most red-blooded Americans.
Mason’s lips twitched twice. She wanted to smile, but couldn’t quite manage it. Then, without further hesitation, her thumbs brushed my hips and her lips parted.
Without thinking, I guided my dick into her mouth. She hummed around me before swallowing me down, her throat working on the sensitive balls lining the underside of my cock.
I shuddered and tightened my grip on her hair.
It didn’t take long for me to cum, which was fair, because this was more transactional than lust-filled.
Mason didn’t flinch when I spilled down her throat; she just swallowed like she’d already committed to pleasing me before she even walked into the bathroom.
She pulled back, eyes watering, and for a moment, I regretted taking what she’d offered.
“Hey, Princess, are you okay?” I cooed, reaching to cup her chin.
But Mason pulled away, suddenly cold, as if this had never happened.
She then forced a smile. “We’re having a family meeting downstairs… I brought Mattie.”
My blood boiled at just the name of that bitch. But, I couldn’t just tell Mason that I wasn’t coming downstairs if that cunt was still there, so I bit my tongue and nodded.
This better be fucking good.
Maybe it was a trick of the light, or maybe I was just being paranoid, but there was something different about Mason. At least, I thought there was. I couldn’t see much because of the flowy sundress she’d draped herself in, but her face looked… fuller. Same with her breasts.
I shifted on the couch, digging my nails into my palm to ground myself. Something about her wasn’t right. Not wrong, exactly—just… different. And my brain refused to put a word to what that difference was.
So instead of spiraling, I latched onto the one thing I could control: glaring at Mattie.
She stood right behind Mason’s chair, arms crossed, leaning over it like she owned the fucking place.
Like she hadn’t tried to systematically tear Mason from our lives.
Like she wasn’t part of Dale’s fucking cult.
My fingers twitched at my side as I wrestled with the urge to kill her. I think Cameron could tell I was one wrong word away from snapping her neck, because he draped an arm over my shoulder and pressed a kiss to my temple, quickly shushing me as if I were a child.
“So… what I’m saying is, I want to come home,” Mason said softly, looking from me, to Cameron, to Sophia, and finally to Lucian, who’d nestled himself into the corner of the oversized sectional.
Her gaze didn’t linger anywhere in particular.
“Yeah,” Lucian snorted. “you shouldn’t have fucking left—ow.”
I glanced over to see Sophia wearing a tight-lipped smile as she released Lucian’s ratty ponytail.