Chapter 23
“No way.” I waved away the joint Lolita was holding toward me. I am not smoking pot.
She slapped my arm. “Come on. It’s not going to hurt.”
“But I’ve never tried it.”
“Great. This is your chance. You may never get another opportunity.” She shoved the joint at me. “Memphis would.”
I tilted my head. “I’m Memphis.”
“Then you know you want to.”
I grabbed it and tried to ignore my trembling fingers.
“Go on.” Her eyes were alive.
The angel and devil in my brain both screamed at me.
Go on. Don’t be such a baby.
Are you crazy? It’s illegal.
You’ll never get another chance.
You could pass out.
It’s your first Saturday night out in years. Make it one to remember.
That last thought blazed through my head like a tomahawk missile, and I raised the joint to my lips and sucked on it before I changed my mind. It tasted weird. . . like I imagined grass would taste. It wasn’t great, but it wasn’t disgusting either.
But nothing happened. I didn’t know what I’d expected, but I got no effects from the marijuana at all. I glanced at Lolly.
“And?” She bulged her eyes.
“I don’t get it.”
“Have some more.”
Shrugging, I had another puff and inhaled deeply. Again, nothing, so I sucked the smoke for a third time. Moments later, the room tilted on its axis and my eyes couldn’t keep up, as my surroundings melted into a crazy mix of light and shapes.
Lolly fished the joint from my fingers, and as I tried to focus on her image, her face wiggled like I was looking at her through a heat wave. I giggled. I giggled some more. And soon, the two of us were laughing like a couple of drunk hyenas. We passed the joint back and forth until it was finished.
The beat of the music had my body moving, and in a delicious haze, I let it take over.
I gazed up at Mason like a love-struck teenager, and he met my gaze. We were the only people in the room, and the connection between us was raw and true.
He bent over and held his hand toward me.
I reached for it, and the next second, I was on the stage. I didn’t know whether to laugh or gasp as the crowd cheered.
The expectation to do something amazing was excruciating. Flashing my tits was an option, but as they were already out, I rode the crazy, unpredictable moment by lighting up the stage with my stunning moves. The connection between Mason and his guitar was so real, like the instrument was part of his body. His gaze flitted from the guitar to me, and each time our eyes met, I wanted to jump on him and stick my tongue down his throat.
It was an eternity before the song ended. I stopped dancing and just stood there as the crowd eased back from the stage, and the DJ hit us with a dose of Red Hot Chili Peppers.
Lolita grinned up at me, and I waved to her, but I still didn’t move. Mason wove his guitar strap over his shoulder and placed the instrument at his side.
He leaned in to kiss my cheek. “I’ll come and find you in a minute.” He reached for my hand and led me to a set of steps at the side of the stage.
Lolita squeezed me for a hug. “Holy fuck, babe, that was awesome.”
“I know. I can’t believe he did that.”
“You were so sexy up there.”
“Really?”
She nodded a little too hard, and I couldn’t decide if she was lying or not. Lolly went to the bar and returned with two more Cosmos, and we spoke at a thousand miles an hour as we sipped our drinks.
We’d nearly finished our cocktails when Mason returned to my side, wrapped his arm around me, and planted a kiss on my lips again. He was so good at that.
Lolita put her empty glass on the table. “Well, I guess I’ll leave you crazy cats to it.”
“Oh no, don’t go.” I reached for her arm.
“It’s okay. Cal had pineapple, remember?” She wriggled her eyebrows, and I burst out laughing.
“Let’s walk to the tram together.” I didn’t make it a question. “Are you okay to go now, Mason?”
“Sure. Let me grab my guitar.” He turned and strode to the dark curtain that flanked the back of the stage and disappeared through it. He returned with his guitar hanging at his hip. He arrived at my side, curled his arm around my waist, and with Lolly cutting a path through the crowd, we made our way to the exit.
I had no idea what the time was, but there were even more people in the mall than there had been when we’d first got here at ten o’clock. Maybe the marijuana had heightened my senses or something because the crowds seemed much louder, and given that our ears had just been blasted by the music in Elsewhere, it was a wonder I could hear at all.
At the tram stop, Lolly and I wrapped our arms around each other. “I had the best night.” I squeezed her tight.
“Me too. We’re definitely doing this again.”
“I agree.”
“I want to hear all about this stud tomorrow, okay?”
I giggled. “Of course.” I was already missing our Tuesday morning debriefs about my sex life. That was probably the only downside of my promotion.
Lolita’s tram arrived first, and she blew us a kiss before she stepped through the sliding doors. Rather than grab a seat, she hung onto a pole, and within seconds, a man started talking to her. A flicker of worry crossed my mind, but I knew she’d be fine. I’d seen Lolly take a man down at karate who was three times her size. She may look delicate in that dress and heels, but she was lethal when she needed to be. She gave us one last wave as the doors shut, and the tram pulled away.
“Did you have a good night?” Mason commanded my attention with his sexy voice.
“I’ve had the best night.”
He wriggled his eyebrows. “It’s not over yet.”
“Thank God.”
He laughed, and it was such a delightful melody that I laughed along with him. My laughter quickly turned to giggles, and as we boarded the tram and rode the three stops to Florida Gardens station, suddenly everything he did was hilarious, and my jaw ached by the time we walked arm and arm up the street toward the Hot Horizon Hotel.
We crossed the lobby, and when Bailey popped his head up, I waved. “Hey, Bailey, how’s the night going?”
“It’s good, thank you.”
It was only when he frowned that I realized my mistake.
Mason cocked his head at me. “So, you’ve been to this hotel a few times?”
Oh, faaark.I needed to shake this fog from my brain, and fast, or there was every chance I’d blow my secret.
The elevator opened, and we stepped in. Mason pressed the button for the first floor, and the second the doors shut, I shoved his back to the wall and provided the perfect distraction.
Our lips mashed together, and when his lips parted, I drove my tongue into his mouth, eager to explore. My hands groped his chest, thumbed his nipples, and traveled down to his groin, seeking out their own pleasure.
We moaned together, bent our knees, and moved our bodies in a way that showed we were already in perfect sync with each other. The doors pinged open, and I jumped onto his hips, planted my lips on his, and he carried me to his room.
He strode along the passage in a fine display of strength and agility. He was a man on a mission, and that mission was me. Yay.
He paused to open the door, and I turned my attention to his ear, sucking the lovely soft lobe into my mouth and pulling back till it snapped from my lips.
I’d never done that before, but it was fun, and I did it over and over till he pushed through the door and into his room. I curled my bag over my neck, dropped it to the floor, and when he backed me up to the wall, I lowered my legs to the floor to stand.
Our kiss was soft yet heated. Our hips crushed together, and the bulge in his pants grew by the second. I glided my hand between us and pushed it into his jeans, eager to feel that beast for myself. It wasn’t easy because his jeans were skin-tight, but I was determined, and soon my hand wrapped around his cock. It was bent over slightly, and when I pulled it upright, Mason squeezed my left boob so hard I thought it would pop.
I tugged my hand from his jeans and fumbled with his button, eager to set him free, but it wouldn’t budge. With my hands on Mason’s pecs, I pushed him backward. “Take your jeans off.”
It was a take-charge command so fitting for Memphis, and Mason didn’t hesitate. In a flash, he had his jeans around his ankles and his shirt off. Every muscle in his body seemed tense. His abs were chiseled and met with those lovely muscles that created a V at his groin. A line of dark hair led from his sexy navel down his belly, drawing my eyes to his enormous erection.
He wrapped his fingers around his cock and pumped it just once as if kick-starting it.
That set my heart on fire. I wanted him inside me . . . now.
I flopped onto the bed. “Take my boots off,” I commanded, raising my right foot toward him.
He wrapped his hand around my ankle and pulled. It was a little game of tug-o-war before he had both boots off. My fake leather leggings were as much of a challenge, and as he pulled and I pushed, I made a mental note never to wear them again. Especially when sex was a possibility.
It seemed like an eternity before I was naked, but the freedom was glorious. When his fabulous blue eyes traveled up my body, the sizzling sensations rippling through me hit another level.
I glided my hands over my flesh, pinched my nipples, and squeezed my boobs, and with his eyes drilling into me, I parted my legs and ran my finger over my clit. The very first touch had me sucking air through my teeth. My body was so sensitive tonight, and for a fleeting second, I wondered if I could thank the marijuana or my sexy toy-boy for that.
Mason moved around to between my legs, and I continued my explorations, gliding my finger over and around my clit. My hips writhed on the bedding, and my knees flipped open and closed as the wild sensations took over.
I set a pattern in motion around my clit and into my throbbing hole, and Mason stepped forward, placed one knee on the bed, and joined in. His fingertips were like flames, licking with heat and intensity, and his musky aroma was as potent as the heady scent of our impending red-hot sex.
My mind was in a groggy haze, but my body was wired. All my senses were alive, and I heard every breath he took as he sucked air through his clenched jaw in rapid succession.
Sex was my drug, and Mason was my pharmacist.
Letting him take over, I leaned back and hooked my hands onto the headboard. He crawled up the bed, and I popped my head up to watch my young man in action. He leaned over me and licked his tongue from nipple to nipple, drawing out my buds until they were so hard they hurt.
His tongue cruised down my belly, and when he parted my legs, I writhed beneath his touch. He trailed little nips up and down my thigh, each time inching toward my pussy. It was exquisite agony, and I was seconds from yelling at him to lick my pussy when he lowered between my legs. His tongue was hot, hard, and glorious as he glided it up my hot folds and curled around my clit.
With incredible skill Mason not only had his tongue working its magic on my hypersensitive pussy, but his fingers also played with my boobs, squeezing and tweaking my nipples simultaneously. My body was on fire. Every nerve ending buzzed.
His hands moved back to my pussy, and he thrust a finger inside me. I pushed my heels into the bed, raised my hips, and parted my knees, giving him room to play. A second finger joined the first, and as they twisted in and out of my pulsing hole, his hot tongue glided up and down my velvet folds.
He wrapped his lips around my clit and sucked so hard I dug my nails into the headboard and clamped my knees shut, trapping him there as a shudder ripped through me. I parted my knees, let go of the bed, clutched a handful of his hair, and held him in place.
A wild scream burst from my lips, and I bucked beneath him as every sensation in my body erupted in a mind-blowing orgasm. As I rode the glorious wave, my hips writhed, my clit pulsed, and my insides clenched with each lick of Mason’s tongue.
He looked up from between my legs with a drunken-like gaze. “Holy wow.”
It was wow—every bit wow.
But I wanted more; I wanted to feel him inside me. I’d barely caught my breath when I rolled off the bed in one fluid movement and practically ran for my bag. I attacked the zipper and plucked out a condom packet. As I returned to him, I tore the packet open with my teeth.
I handed the condom over, and as he rolled it on, I crawled onto the bed on my hands and knees and thrust my ass at him, telling him in no uncertain terms that I wanted that cock inside me . . . now.
His fingers dug into the flesh at my hips, and in one swift movement, his cock rammed into me.
It was fast, it was furious. It blew my mind.
As I clawed the sheets and cried out, he thrust into me with brutal repetition. He pounded something deep, deep inside me—it was as painful as it was magnificent.
“Oh, yes,” he yelled, and over and over, he drove into me, impaling me with every inch of his solid hard-on.
My second orgasm shot through me, surprising me with its swiftness, and I screamed at the gloriousness of it.
Mason cried out too, a deep, primal groan that tumbled from his throat and matched his final thrusts. His grip on my thighs petered out as his cock softened inside me. I fell forward and rolled to my side, gasping for breath.
As Mason strode to the bathroom, I admired his youthful body. He wasn’t muscle-bound like Corben or nicely tanned like Hunter, yet he had just as many equally appealing qualities that had me praying I’d remember every inch of my young lover forever.
He emerged from the bathroom naked, and I rolled to sit on the edge of the bed. He sat beside me. Our legs touched.
I put my hand on his bare thigh. “That was amazing.”
“It was fucking incredible.” He scrunched up his nose, and it was so cute that I started giggling.
“What?” He smiled at me.
“Nothing, it’s just. . .”
“What?” His grin grew magnificent, and I etched his handsome face into my memory.
I kissed his cheek. “You’re lovely.” I stood and walked toward my leggings that were half inside-out.
“Do you have to go?”
His pleading, big blue eyes nearly had me agreeing. But thankfully, the angel in my brain dominated this time. “Yes, I have to go.”
I pulled my undies on and flipped my leggings the right way around. I sat on the bed and pulled on my pants in a totally unsexy way.
Once the battle was over, I tugged on my boots, shoved my bra into my bag, put my black shirt on, and did up the buttons. I hooked my bag over my shoulder and sighed as I turned to Mason. “Thank you for a wonderful night.”
“Thank you.”
I strode out his doorway and went to my apartment. Aspects of my incredible night bounced around my brain as I removed my disguise, showered, and brushed my teeth. I dressed in my PJs, and at my bedside table, I pulled my diary onto my lap.
I turned to the 3rd of December, and at the top of the page, I wrote Mason Cole, Room 6. Then I filled the page with intimate details of our sex—the urgency, the roughness, the incredible oral sex, and my questions on whether or not the marijuana had heightened the intensity.
With that thought, I wrote, Sex is my Drug at the top of the page.
By the time I’d finished, I’d filled two and a half pages with details of my evening with Mason. I flipped the diary closed, crawled under my bedsheet, and rolled onto my side.
I tugged my spare pillow to my chest, wrapped my arm around it, and let the lovely post-sex throb ebbing through my body lull me to sleep.