Four
Over the next couple of days, I spent time taking pictures of obscure things, to get some practice in. I didn’t use the automatic settings on my Nikon, as that would be cheating and interfere with my creative flow.
I snapped a dead badger by the road outside our farm. It didn’t take long for me to delete it, when the hell had I become interested in capturing images of roadkill? I liked taking pictures of tragedies, documenting what would eventually be in the past. But I captured pain in an artistic way, so the animal carcass just had to go.
I’d messaged my friend Betty and told her to ask James if he’d heard that Mason and Nixon were hosting a fight later that night. It took her most of the day to reply, but when she did, she confirmed that James’s friend Chris was going. Interesting . I had made up my mind as soon as Mason asked his brothers to put the message out, that I would go.
I spent the rest of that afternoon in the darkroom my father had made for me years ago. Turning off the red lights, I flicked the normal switch on which cast a more natural glow into the room. The room was a mess, as I hadn’t been in there for a few weeks due to working at the stables so much.
Filing some old shots, I fired up the laptop and skipped through some digital images I had taken of the lambs at Mason’s place. I didn’t use the darkroom as much as I used to, as processing the images was quite time-consuming. The shots were also much clearer when using my DSLR gear.
As I rearranged some of the filing cabinet drawers, I fell upon the folder containing the shots from the fire at Mason’s house. I hadn’t looked at them in years. Dragging a couple of wide lens shots out, I scattered them on the table I used to view my work.
It was all so very upsetting. Haunting even. I had only seen the flames from the distance and had arrived after the fire brigade had managed to put out the fire. So, I’d caught the aftermath, that pain and loss that everyone had experienced. I hadn’t even let the police view the images after arson was suggested. As I said, I didn’t want it to look like my family had anything to do with it. There was also nothing to identify how the fire started in the shots, and so what would have been the point? If I could have helped the police, I would have.
I left those two main images out, as they were old traditional shots and had started to curl at the edges from being shoved in the cabinet. They showed a small crowd of people surrounding the property, local families that had come to help, as well as Nixon and his father. Their body language, oozing with angst. Melanie McKenna was on one of the images wrapped in a blanket; her numb face covered with soot. I ran my finger over the slightly blurred image of what would have been an eighteen-year-old Mason at the time. The shots were taken from a distance, but you could clearly see who was who.
Jenna had said that there was a huge fight between Nixon and my dad that night.
Releasing a sharp breath, I turned away, suddenly riddled with guilt to be looking in on someone’s misery like that. Yes, I joked about their house being destroyed, but I didn’t mean it, not really. I wouldn’t have wished that type of thing on anyone, even the McKenna family.
Even though Nixon had initially blamed us for the fire, my folks had offered to help whilst they rebuilt. The truce didn’t last long however as Nixon just couldn’t let it go, and a herd of cows had spent most of a weekend eating my father’s harvest whilst they were away in Portugal.
It was getting late and so I prepared my cameras. I’d taken a sandwich to my room and told my parents that I had a camera project I was working on. They were flying out on holiday early morning and so I said my goodbyes and kissed them there and then.
Chrissy was at her friend’s house; Jenna was in her room and I hadn’t a clue where Mattie had snuck off to. His behaviour over the last two days had been odd, to say the least.
I looked out of the window several times over at the McKenna’s place, but it was dead and after staying up on purpose until after ten in the evening, I gave it up as a bad job, dressed in my PJs and fell asleep on the top of my bed.
It was only later, after I must have been asleep for well over an hour that I awoke to go to the bathroom and glanced out of the window. I could see a flicker of light in the distance. The McKenna boys appeared to have visitors; I could just see part of the crowd in the distance. So, the fight was going ahead, but it was a late one. Interesting.
I shoved my feet into my sliders, grabbed my camera and flew out of the house as quietly as possible.
Once I got in through the main gates of Lamb Hill, there were cars parked everywhere , if you could call them that. Strewn or abandoned, may have been a better description. It was almost midnight and the night air was cool against my skin. I hadn’t pulled my robe on and was dressed in pale pink silky shortie PJs. The breeze caressed my bare thighs, another reason I couldn’t be caught!
I made my way in between the cars, crouching low so that I wouldn’t be seen by anyone who hadn’t yet made it out of their vehicle and up toward the house.
I wondered fleetingly where Mason’s parents were, before I became distracted by the shouts and cheers in the distance. This suggested that the fighting had started. I tugged my camera protectively against my chest and made sure the safety strap was secure around my neck.
I had left my hair down and part of it was trapped under the leather strap which held my Nikon. The camera had been a gift from my father one Christmas.
Standing still for a moment, I removed my hair from under the strap and straightened my clothing. Thank goodness it was mild; the top of my PJs was a camisole with spaghetti straps. It was tight against my skin and highlighted the curves of my breasts. This was the nightwear I would wear the first time Alex and I had sex. It was comfortable but still sexy. The shorts showed the globes of my bottom cheeks they were that tiny.
The fighting usually took place in an old disused riding arena around the back of Mason’s house. It was dimly lit, but there were always a few oil drum fires burning which added another dangerous element to that atmosphere. The small crackling bonfires had surprised me one year, bearing in mind what had happened to the house years before.
I had only been to two fights in the past but had seen many through the zoom lens of one of my cameras from my window. I used to regularly spy on the McKenna family, especially to watch the progress of their house being rebuilt after the fire damage .
Nixon had been in the ring during one of those times I had plucked up the courage to sneak over there. I remember the new version of their house had scaffolding everywhere and people were using part of it as a viewing platform.
Nixon had been up against a tall bald guy with teeth missing and I had only seen that last punch. I’d found that sound of bone-on-bone sickening, but I’d been fourteen at the time and so it wasn’t surprising. I was an adult now and confident that I’d be able to stomach anything I saw. I wasn’t overly worried about blood and stuff and had witnessed boys fighting at school.
Checking my camera was ready, I was determined to get as many shots as possible and felt excited that I would be able to document something so gritty. Live-action brawling. Bare-knuckle fighting. Aggressive, sweaty men. The shots would be raw, full of power and masculine angst.
As I made my way up through the bushes and shrubs, I could see the flickering light from the fire barrels and the shouts and whoops increased in volume with every step I took.
Carefully removing the lens cap on my Nikon, I moved further around the side of the ring, near a cluster of trees to get a better view. I hadn’t thought to bring one of my zoom lenses and so I’d need to get close, if I didn’t want blurred or dark shots. The glow from the fire would also increase the chances of lens flare and blotching.
A fight was taking place and there must have been around thirty people gathered around the arena, shouting support for the guy they had their money on or booing his opponent. Jokes were also thrown about along with general laughing and guffawing. Thuds and bangs echoed up into the night air, intermingled by the crackle of the fires and stomping of excited feet.
Most spectators were male but there were a few girls threaded in there, their arms draped around their boyfriends as they too joined in, spurring on their chosen champion.
I knew I wouldn’t be able to use the camera flash as this would draw attention to me and so I needed to get as close as possible. Scanning the crowd, I could see Boyd with his shirt off, his body looking bruised and battered. He was wearing jeans which were also scuffed and dirty, a tell-tale sign that he had already been in the ring. He looked fucked up, and therefore, he may not have been the victor of his battle. A possibility which pleased me.
As I shifted closer, it was then that I saw who was currently in the ring. It was Mason. Mason and a large, good looking black guy, who had muscle on top of muscle. He wasn’t as broad as Mason, but he was taller. Both their knuckles were wrapped in tape as they sparred, hopping from foot to foot as they took jabs at each other and I started snapping. Zooming in as much as the lens I had brought would allow.
Mason looked magnificent , he too was shirtless and wearing blue jeans which sat low on his hips. He was barefooted and fast on his feet. Ducking and then jabbing at his opponent. A couple of girls in the crowd were chanting Mason’s name, which annoyed me for some reason.
I watched with my heart in my mouth as the fit-looking black dude punched Mason in the ribs and he grunted from the impact, before shifting quickly. I snapped a few more shots, I wanted to get as many action-stills as I could. Mason’s sun-bronzed body glistened with sweat as the two men went at it again. Fists and knuckles bounced off muscle and sinew.
“Come on Mase, knock him the fuck out!” Seth suddenly yelled from the other side of the ring. The fencing around the arena shook as people leaned against it, holding bottles of beer and red solo cups, thoroughly enjoying the thuggish drama in front of them.
There was no way that this fight could have been considered a regular contact sport. James told Betty that the boys signed up for either a bit of extra money, or just because they felt the need to kick the shit out of something. To vent any pent-up energy/aggression. The McKenna boys didn’t fight for money, they were already loaded. They did it for kicks. Sick and twisted really.
Shouts and yells intermingled with the cracks and grunts coming from inside the ring and I moved closer still. I was pushing it really as I knew Boyd could easily see me, but he was partly engrossed in the fight and the girl who was half draped across his lap. I didn’t recognise her as being from the village. She was pretty and blonde wearing denim shorts and a bikini top for goodness’s sake. Her boobs were huge, but she was curvy everywhere. I was tiny in comparison.
Turning my attention back toward Mason, I watched as he landed a couple of solid blows on his opponent’s face, knocking him back a step. I noticed one of the black guy’s eyes was almost swollen shut. Tears sprung to my eyes, but I blinked them away. The scene was brutal and barbaric but I was mesmerised .
Click, click. I caught the movement with my camera but as I moved closer still, my toe which was bare in the sliders I wore, caught a stone and I slipped, “Shit,” the gasp was out before I could bite it back. I was pretty much level with the fence of the arena now and in that split second, Mason’s eyes clashed with mine and his mouth dropped open in astonishment. I lowered my camera and gave him a finger-tipped wave. Those against the fence with their backs to me turned to see where Mason was looking and then…
WHAM! Whilst Mason’s attention was on me, his opponent punched him full-on in the face, hard , and he went down, dropping to his knees. Shocked. I raced forward, plastering myself against the fence in between two large sweaty guys who glanced down at me with suggestive looks.
The thought of Mason being hurt was what drove me forward, my camera swung inactive around my neck. A fallen Mason on the ground, bested by another man would have made an amazing picture, but I just couldn’t capture him when he was weakened. It didn’t last long. Mason tested his jaw with his fingers, moving it from side to side. Thank goodness it wasn’t broken.
He then twisted his head to glare at me from his position against the woodchip on the floor. My heart almost stopped. He was angry, furious as if I was to blame for his downfall. He quickly pushed himself to his feet and spat on the floor, his eyes on me for a moment longer, before turning his body, drawing back his fist and lamping the other dude in the face. I heard his nose crack from where I was standing and a wave of sickness flooded my insides.
CRUNCH. One punch and the guy went down, he wobbled a bit first, dazed for a moment before falling in a heap on the floor .
The crowd went wild, whoops and cheers ignited the air and Boyd shot to his feet, the blonde sliding off his lap with a surprised yelp.
“Fuck me bro, KO!” Boyd yelled, punching a fist into the sky. A couple of other large meaty guys ran over to the loser of the fight and threw water over him from a bucket. He stirred and then I watched as Mason’s back rippled with muscles and he turned toward me, or should I say turned on me.
Aggression seeped from every pour on his half-naked body and a jet of rear fear snaked up my spine. He looked sexy as hell, but there was a scary, untamed energy about him. I had never seen it before, even when I’d witnessed him fighting with his brothers when they were younger. His body was solid, that dark tan, the pronounced pectoral muscles, and that firm vee that led downwards into his jeans.
He was so handsome; I was surprised he looked like he did, bearing in mind this fighting club thing. How did a guy who got punched in the face so much still look like a male model?
He bristled toward me, intent clear in that darkened gaze of his. He looked so rugged, wild almost, his body still holding that fighting stance.
Intimidating doesn’t even begin to describe how he looked with that honed muscular physic, wet from perspiration. Violence and tension radiated from him.
Mason cracked his neck from side to side and stretched his arms behind his head before he started to stride purposefully toward me. I began to back away slowly and the two blokes on either side of me, peered back and forth, the whole crowd seemed to be focused on the drama that was about to unfold. But surely it wouldn’t be as entertaining as what they had just witnessed?
Mason scaled the fencing with ease and then dropped to his feet; he was very agile for such a large person. My eyes widened as he stalked me, his knuckles were bruised and red where the tape had split on his hands and his jaw was purple, probably from that last punch he’d received.
His hooded gaze roamed over my body, taking in my PJs and I placed both my hands up to ward him off, but he batted my hands away and then grabbed me roughly by my upper arms. I inhaled, shocked by his rough treatment.
Mason then lowered his angry face into mine. Nose to fucking nose .
“What the fuck are you doing here Amy?” he growled down at me. There was blood caked at the corner of his mouth. I suddenly felt unable to voice a single thought, my head went into full-on panic mode. I could feel the pent-up tension cracking through his fingers as they circled my skin.
My mouth dropped open like a fish.
“And why the fuck are you wearing underwear outside, are you fucking nuts ?”
My brow crinkled as I glanced down at my attire.
“I’m wearing my nightclothes,” I panted and then hiccupped.
“Same fucking thing. You may as well be naked.”
“Next up, Ryker and Jones!” a voice behind him boomed. Obviously, the intro to the next fighters. If he meant Jason Ryker, I knew Jason from school, but quickly shelved the thought. The announcement drew some of the crowd’s attention off us. I saw Boyd leaning against the steps up into the backdoor of their house, shaking his head at me with a sneer. The blonde close by was looking up at him with an adoring face. Silly girl, he’ll have forgotten your name by tomorrow.
“ Amy ,” Mason shouted down at me again, shaking me to get my attention. My teeth rattled. I felt like a silly little girl being taken to task.
“I was taking some pictures, for my collection,” I babbled nervously, flicking my head down to the camera which was luckily still safely around my neck.
He obviously hadn’t noticed the camera at first glance and his brow threaded as he peered down between my breasts. He then released one of my arms and started dragging me over towards the trees by my non-existent bicep. He took me to the gap where I had entered and I almost fell over trying to keep up with him.
“I’m sorry,” I puffed, afraid of being shouted at.
Mason was breathing heavily as we left the spectators behind, his steps determined. The drama of us was forgotten and the crowd started cheering again as new contenders entered the ring. I was then yanked around to face him, my hair swishing across my semi-naked shoulders.
“You’re bleeding,” I pointed out in a small mouse-like voice.
His lip curled cruelly, “No shit genius.” I flinched as his tone was so nasty .
Powering on, I questioned, “Do you ever lose a fight? ”
He snorted, “Hell no, not anymore.” I imagined he was referring to his father.
“You should put ice on your face.” I got a sudden urge to soothe his injuries which was odd considering how I usually felt about him. He’d drawn my sympathy in the past but not so much lately, when our fighting had become more grown up.
This caused him to sneer even more. What? I was trying to be helpful as well as taking some of the heat off of course. “Honestly, or you’ll bruise more.”
“Thanks, Mom,” he sniped, his voice like a razor slicing into my better nature.
I pursed my lips, trying to control my breathing which was uneven but tight in my chest, “Are you OK, I saw that guy hit you,” I put in, trying to sound supportive. This seemed to rile him even more.
“He got one in because of you!” Mason shouted, releasing my arm to drag an angry hand through his tousled hair. He was so sweaty but his scent was musky and masculine, and that slight glow from the flickering flames near the arena, cast shadows across his muscled shoulders. His abs stood out, like they had been chiselled from stone and I suddenly wanted to run my fingers across them.
“I didn’t do anything,” I declared, rubbing at the flesh where his hands had grabbed me. It was throbbing.
“You fucking distracted me,” Mason hissed through even white teeth.
I released a shaky breath. Ah, well there was that. I remained silent as the guy had a point. He had been glaring at me when said fist had landed.
Mason snapped his fingers and held out his hand, gesturing, “Give me the SD card Amy,” he ordered.
I took a step back and shook my head and he advanced on me, “ Now Amy.”
My back hit the rough surface of a tree and I had nowhere to go as Mason stopped directly in front of me, a tower of fury. I felt small and insignificant and severely pathetic, but if he thought he was taking my shots off me, he could think again! Photography was my life. It was very personal to me, and the only thing that made me happy. I wasn’t letting him near my work. I had a right to document stuff, he was just pissed off because he’d taken one in the face by my being there. I severely doubted he cared that I’d taken pictures of him .
Mason clicked his fingers again, “Give it to me Amy or I’ll take it from you and I can’t say I won’t damage your fucking camera.”
“ No , it’s mine Mason and there’s other stuff on it. You can’t have it.” I almost screamed in frustration.
“God you’re a fucking handful. Give it to me now, I’m not asking you, I’m telling you.” He made a move toward my camera and I twisted my body, my Nikon swinging under my arm. My eyes flickered down to check it was OK, before I lifted my head and gave him my death stare.
“I haven’t done anything wrong,” I huffed, now feeling helpless.
“You’ve been taking pictures of people without their fucking permission, Amy. That’s about as wrong as it gets.” He had a point.
I rubbed the shiver from my arms, “So, I wasn’t doing it to cause any harm, I bet the shots are amazing . Beautiful even.”
He looked at me like I was dumb, “There is nothing beautiful about fighting.”
“Why do you do it then?” I blurted.
“I get off on it, but it isn’t beautiful,” he repeated in a firm voice.
“I disagree, I could show you the shots and you’ll see what I mean. You looked magnificent.” I wasn’t really complimenting him; it was my work with the camera that I was giving the credit to. My God, I was rambling like a school girl.
He slowly repeated my words as if he couldn’t believe I had spoken them, “I looked magnificent , what the actual fuck . Are you high?” Mason bit out, thoroughly exasperated.
I sniffed, “Well you did, beautiful , as I said.” What shit was I trying to sell now? I wasn’t sure I was in complete control of my mouth at that point.
He rolled his eyes before giving me one of those, ‘Are you for real’ looks he’d mastered so well.
“Being called beautiful has got to be a first. The SD card Amy and stop trying to change the subject.”
I wanted to shove him away and run for it, but I was trapped, “If you damage it or delete anything , I’ll never forgive you.”
“Like I give a shit,” he replied with a stony expression .
“You’re such a bully,” I stated.
“You haven’t seen the half of what I’m capable of, Amy, but you will if you don’t give me the photos right now .” He eyed the camera with distaste.
I looked up at him with a forlorn look, “ Please Mason. Don’t take them from me.” I hated that I had to resort to begging, but what could I do? The guy was bigger than me, I couldn’t exactly fight my way around him.
Tears of frustration threatened and my eyes watered.
Mason dashed a hand across his jaw, “Don’t you dare start with the waterworks!” he all but yelled down into my face.
I could see from his suddenly tired expression that he’d had enough. As he moved to lift my camera from where it sat under my armpit, I encircled his wrists with my fingers in a poor attempt to stop him.
Mason drew his hand down, breaking the contact and I yipped in surprise.
“You’re such a frail little thing,” he accused in an annoyed tone. He then placed both his hands around my wrists, effectively trapping me. I was then helpless as he yanked my arms up over my head and held them there with one hand against the tree. Mason’s free hand then lowered to my camera, searched for the SD slot, and then to my dismay, released the card single handed.
With a slight smile, he pocketed it in his jeans. A fat tear ran down my face. It suddenly felt like I’d lost a limb, as who knew what other precious shots were on there. Would he throw the card away or damage it?
“Don’t you dare lose it Mason as I’ll be wanting that back.”
“Oh, I won’t lose the card Amy, but I may have to lose it with you,” Mason drawled, the tone of his voice changing pitch. It had dipped lower and he was looking down at me with a strange, guarded expression. Like he was toying with his thoughts. I pulled against his hold, trying to free my hands but he didn’t let go. A maelstrom of emotions powered through my body. None of which I understood.
Due to my arms being held above my head, my breasts were pushing against the thin material of my camisole.
Mason’s nose was so close to my own and my neck ached from retaining eye contact. He then lifted his free hand that had just pocketed my saved photos and drew a finger down my face where that large tear had run, almost tracing its path. His digit continued its journey and I gasped as he traced it down my body in between my cleavage.
He whispered against the shell of my ear, his lips slightly gazing at the skin there, “One day, you’ll learn your lesson.”
“What stupid lesson?”
“You need to stop fucking with us, Amy.” He growled out in a low voice.
“And how the hell am I doing that?” I questioned, being the one physically pinned to a tree by the bloody giant.
He pulled his head back, making eye contact again. That stare was so judgemental and raw, “With your silly pranks and coming over here taking pictures of us and shit. It needs to stop . You can’t just come and go as you please. You shouldn’t be here tonight, especially dressed like that.”
“Like what? I’m wearing more than Boyd’s piece of ass!” I pointed out, referring to the girl that was clad in the bikini top. Yes, I was wearing my PJs, but they covered me more than her little get-up.
“Yes, but Lily doesn’t look like you.” So, her name was Lily, big deal. It annoyed me that he knew her name, was she one of those girls that the brothers shared? Great, now I’d given myself the proper ich. I shoved away the thought, what had he just said?
“What do you mean?” I questioned, feeling totally lost.
His gaze became hooded again but I saw the male interest before he hid it, “You’re a provocative little bitch,” he drawled, his voice taking on a sexual element.
I shook back my head, trying to see beneath the mask he was trying to pull in place.
“I’m not dressed like this to be provocative.” I was being honest. “I’m dressed for bed.”
“And that’s where you should be, but it’s not the nightclothes that are provoking Amy. It’s that tight little body they show off.”
“I don’t know what you mean,” I panted.
He slowly shook his head, “You’re such a little prick tease. ”
What the hell did he call me, again ? My frown increased to the point where I’d probably have permanent dints in my head, “Why are you speaking to me like this? You don’t see me like that. Not really.”
He was still bristling from the fight, full of pent-up passion, aggression, and testosterone. Shit, he was acting like a walking male hormone that needed release.
Mason stroked a finger down my face again, the touch almost tender and a trickle of pleasure ran through me. I closed my eyes.
“So, you don’t think I see you as a woman? Are you sure about that?” His tone was just above a whisper, like that voice in the movies when lovers speak in bed after sex. I shooed off the thought, blinking my eyes open again. When had I become such a pervert?
“Yes, I’m sure. You don’t , you can’t,” I told him firmly. I must have sounded like a Victorian spinster. I can honestly say I’d never felt so buttoned up.
Mason gave me a wolfish smile; those sensual lips curled at the sides.
“Oh, I fucking can. I’m a man Amy. And a highly sexed one. You may be annoying as fuck, but that doesn’t stop me from wanting to put my dick inside you. Especially when I’m wired after a fight.”
OMG! I was almost paralysed by his crude comment. Mason had just said… I cut myself off, blurting, “Stop it. I know you’re just trying to scare me.” It suddenly felt like he was messing with me, playing with my inexperience of men.
A beat of silence fell between us and I wondered if I’d managed to stop him. But nope, he carried the hell on.
“I’m just getting started,” he taunted, his nostrils flaring. “Note for the future princess, fighting gets me horny .”
Mason released my wrists and my hands fluttered to my sides, he then took my face in both hands, and slammed his mouth down over mine. I gasped against his lips, watching as his eyes closed. My own lips parted as Mason pushed his tongue into my mouth.
Jesus wept ; Mason McKenna was kissing me. My own eyes fluttered shut, lost in the moment and my arms lifted automatically and rested lightly against his bulging biceps. They felt huge as they were still pumped from the fight. Mason’s grip was firm and the way he’d moved his body, pulled me up onto my tiptoes as he fed hungrily from my mouth. Devouring me. His tongue was demanding as it stroked against my own and I followed his technique, each time those muscles touched, another jet of heat darted through my body. My breasts were pressed against the hardness of his chest and my nipples were pebbled against the silk of my top.
Mason slid one hand from my jaw, around the back of my head and wrapped rough fingers into my hair, yanking my head further back. He moved his other hand, tracing my spine before curving his fingers over one of my buttocks, drawing me further against the hardness of his frame.
His fingers tightened around my curls, angling my head where he wanted it to go, so he could deepen the kiss. His mouth claimed mine as it moved roughly over my lips and I tasted blood. His blood. It did nothing to remove that surge of excitement I felt between my legs. I was almost falling apart as I kissed him back, revelling in the taste and feel of him against my softness. His was driving me wild with his tongue.
Mason moved his bulk forward slightly, the motion pinning me back against the rough surface of the tree and he moved his other hand to join its mate over my bottom. Pulling me up so I was almost anchored between his thighs. I could feel his large erection straining against my stomach, it was shocking and I gasped into his mouth as I felt it swollen rock hard, pushing against his jeans. I rocked forward and he groaned into my mouth.
Mason’s tongue became more insistent and he kneaded the softness of my buttocks with both hands sending delicious friction between our two bodies. I had never been so turned on in my life and my fingers slid up into his hair as our mouths tangled in a frenzy. His tongue was ruthless as it drove in and out of my mouth, plundering , taking everything, I had to give.
A torrent of emotions thrummed through me and when he suddenly drew back, I felt lost, the breath rushed from my body. Mason was also aroused and breathing heavily. I looked up into his eyes and they were thick with lust and desire, almost like he was drugged on it .
My hands dropped to rest against his chest close to his pectoral muscles and he placed his forehead against mine with a soft sigh. He still caressed my bottom, his fingers half under my shorts, touching my bare flesh.
“Come upstairs with me,” he whispered. His voice deep with arousal and heat jetted into my sex.
His words however, shook me out of my passion-induced coma and I shuddered, digesting his meaning.
Mason McKenna wanted to have sex with me.
Panic kicked in and I shoved against his chest, hard. He didn’t budge.
“No Mason,” I choked out.
That sensitive area between my legs was still throbbing with need, but I had to deny it. I wasn’t about to give this boy my virginity on a whim. What the hell was wrong with me, why had I let him kiss me? Why had I behaved that way? Because you wanted it, my body rudely informed me.
Mason also seemed to come to his senses, recovering much more quickly than I did. He slid his hands off my bottom and took a step back.
His eyes roamed over my face, full of curiosity and sexual frustration. We were both still breathing heavily and I placed a hand to my chest to steady my nerves. I had almost lost it with Mason McKenna against a fucking tree for God’s sake! I was a slut, I had to be.
A silent look passed between us; like we both knew what had happened was wrong.
His expression then darkened and he said in a thick, angry voice.
“I’ll ask you one more time, and then the offer is off the table,” Mason growled out arrogantly. Like he was giving me the chance of a lifetime. It got my back up.
“No. Not if you were the last man on earth,” I bit back with a tone of my own.
His lip curled into a sneer, “Then you’re of no use to me. Get the fuck off my property.”
Those words drilled into me, the pain almost physical and I positioned my camera back in front of my chest from its haphazard position.
Shivering, I then pushed past him and ran all the way home .
The feel of Mason’s tongue in my mouth reminded me of my mistake for the rest of that night. That musky smell of him haunted my dreams or were they nightmares?
The degree of those new emotions I’d experienced that night, were overwhelming and I cried myself softly to sleep.