24. Sophia
Chapter 24
Sophia
“ H i, I’m Levi,” says our “instructor”—a boy of about fifteen, if I’m generous. “Let me go over the safety instructions before we gear up.”
He goes into a spiel that makes me wonder if he’s Professor Ambien’s long-lost grandson.
As my mind wanders, I return to something I’ve been dwelling on all morning and on the way here: the kiss that never happened last night.
There was definite disappointment—and hurt—in Mason’s eyes. Also, though it could be my imagination, he’s been a bit more closed off today compared to the way he was in the botanical gardens. And he hasn’t looked at my boobs even once.
Maybe he misunderstood last night. I didn’t want to kiss him because I suddenly felt the rocking of the ship, and I was afraid Pazuzu might yank out the dinner I’d just had. It had nothing to do with him. At all. In fact, it was scary how much I wanted to kiss him despite Pazuzu… and how much I still do, even in front of our underaged instructor and the rest of these people.
Hmm. Maybe it’s for the best that we didn’t kiss, even if it was due to a misunderstanding. Maybe I should?—
“—and use the glove to brake.”
Wait. A glove? What glove? What else did I miss?
“Now,” the possible-violation-of-child-labor-laws says, “the gear is over there.” He gestures at a row of harnesses and helmets.
“Hey.” I tug on Mason’s sleeve. “Do you know what to do?”
“Sure. It’s like this.” Mason grabs a harness and slips it on effortlessly, while I do my best not to gawk at the place on his crotch where the harness has created a bulge that is even bigger than the usual situation. Next, Mason grabs a helmet and slips it on—which makes him look a lot like how he did on the ice.
Hot.
“All right.” I grab another harness and try to put it on… only to end up smacking my teeth with a carabiner and then nearly choking when a shoulder strap somehow becomes a noose.
“Can I help?” Levi asks, seemingly talking directly to Plato’s nipple, which is hard and therefore visible through my shirt despite my bra.
Thanks, Mason’s bulge.
“No,” Mason growls, just as I say, “Yes.”
Mason’s hand curls into a fist, not helping the nipple situation in the slightest. Levi takes a step back—a wise choice.
“If you value your hands, don’t even think about touching her,” Mason growls again.
Levi’s recently sprouted Adam’s apple bobs, and his voice goes girlishly high. “Yes, sir.” Swiftly, he goes to help someone else.
“That was pretty rude,” I say. “Who is going to help me now?”
With an eyeroll, Mason steps over and removes the harness from my body with the same ease as when he took off my bra and panties in my fantasy last night.
“Slide your leg in here.” He holds up a loop of the harness, so I do as I’m told. “And here.” I slip in my other leg, which accidentally makes his fingers brush my calf, causing me to shiver all over.
“That’s it,” he murmurs, then tightens the straps—which ends up doing two very noticeable things: it thrusts Socrates and Plato up better than any pushup bra and presses on my groin area in such a way that all it would take is a little jiggle for me to come.
Okay, it's official. I understand why someone would want to be on the receiving end of rope bondage. Having yourself squeezed in this way is an extremely sensuous experience… although, it is very possible that Mason’s presence is as important a variable in this as the straps are.
“Is everyone ready?” Levi asks.
I’m ready for many things now, ziplining the least of them. Alas, since climbing Mason isn’t in the cards, I climb a tree instead.
Once we’re up, Levi apprehensively attaches Mason to the line before gesturing at me. “I need to clip in her carabiner in the same way.”
“You may do so,” Mason says magnanimously. “But watch yourself.”
“I’m right here,” I say to no one in particular.
Pretending not to hear, Levi does his job as if I were radioactive, and then he and Mason discuss who is to catch me if I need to be caught by the next tree. Surprise, surprise—that someone is going to be Mason.
“And who’s going to catch Mason if he needs catching?” I ask.
“Trent.” Levi points into the distance. “He’s already in position.”
Let’s hope that Trent is old enough to have a learner’s permit.
“Trent will not need to do anything.” Mason sticks his chest out. “I can handle using a glove to brake.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “Are you implying that I can’t?”
“No,” Levi and Mason say in unison.
“It’s just a precaution,” Levi adds.
“Because we don’t want anyone to get hurt.” Mason looks at Levi meaningfully.
I roll my eyes and watch as Mason leaps from the platform, making it look hella fun.
Except, I could swear I see someone catch him on the other end.
Huh.
So much for that confidence. Now it’s more important than ever that I brake properly. That’ll show him.
“Can you go already?” a male voice mutters from behind me.
I turn to see who the speaker is, but it seems he doesn’t have a spine because everyone looks back at me blankly.
Whatever.
Bravely, I leap into the void.
Whoosh! I zip over faster than I can blink, screaming in glee, my adrenaline spiking higher than on any roller coaster.
A few feet from my destination, I remember the brake, but it’s too late.
I don’t even get the chance to touch the cable with my glove before I smash into a very familiar chest. One that smells tellingly masculine, with a hint of pines covered in snow.
“I’ve got you,” Mason murmurs.
Why do I feel so gooey? It must be the aftereffects of the ride.
Also, as I was flying through the air, the straps further pushed on my groin, and Mason’s proximity is making my blood rush into the area, which all conspires to create a strange sensation, almost like I might?—
“Step over here,” booms a voice that must belong to Trent.
Huh. Trent is huge and ancient. Maybe this is a family business, with Trent being Levi’s grandpa?
Turns out, Mason doesn’t discriminate against older males when it comes to the heavy-handed attempts to prevent me from their touches. He tells Trent exactly what he told his-maybe-grandson.
“Fine. Less work for me,” Trent grumbles. “Now wait ‘til everyone gathers.”
“But you may clip her carabiner,” Mason adds.
Trent just grunts.
The rest of the group takes turns smacking into Trent, except for Levi, who brakes expertly—raising my confidence in his abilities a notch or two.
Then Levi zips over to the next location, and Mason follows—and manages to brake in time.
All right.
I don’t care if I have to ignore the fun aspect of this ride. I have to brake.
I leap.
Must brake.
The straps push even deeper into my bikini area, pushing the folds of my clothes against my other folds, creating a pressure on my clit that?—
I smash into Mason once again… with a moan that I pray Levi will mistake for pain, but it’s really pleasure.
An orgasm, to be precise.
Is this why the French call it “the little death”?
Because I might just die of mortification.