Chapter 17
Dakota
Lecture the next week was horrible. I was so far inside my head I could barely focus. I was worried about what I’d told Mason, worried about his warning. Be ready, Dakota.
Well, I wasn’t ready. I’d never be ready.
Right next to my worries about Mason were my worries about Dr. Killshaw.
I searched my brain endlessly, trying to twist the situation into something I could grab onto with both hands, something that made sense to me.
Perhaps I’d just been imaging the look in his eyes, inflating the importance of those few moments.
Because he hadn’t looked at me once since then.
And I had no idea if it was normal, or if I was being extremely paranoid.
While he lectured, he usually looked around the room, gauging the engagement of the class, but I swore he was completely skipping the back corner I sat in. Had he always done that? Was he skipping other sections too? Was this sheer coincidence, and I was reading way too far into it?
I don’t know.
I hate that I can’t stop thinking about him.
The memory of his scent was a ghost in my mind, a blurry outline of something I thought I recognized, but couldn’t figure out. At first I wondered if he smelled like Mason, because he didn’t really smell like cologne, but it wasn’t that. He didn’t smell like the ocean. It was something else.
A knock at the front door of my trailer snapped me from my thoughts.
I shot off my bed, my stomach instantly heavy with dread.
It’s probably one of my neighbors asking for an egg or something. Nothing to worry about. I’ll just tell them I don’t have any.
I crept quietly down the hall to the front door, thankful I’d closed the blinds on my windows earlier. Pressing my palms flat to the door, I peered through the tiny peephole. Fuck. My head tipped forward, forehead resting on the door, pulse steadily increasing.
Mason knocked again.
Deep down, I knew he wasn’t going to leave until I answered the door. Even if he eventually began to assume I wasn’t home, I knew he’d wait for me to get back. I looked through the peephole again.
He had his arm braced on the door frame, head hanging down.
Better to get it over with.
The second I unlocked the door, he was shoving it open, his body colliding with mine as he pushed me backwards into my kitchen.
“Fuck! Mason!” I gasped, turning my head away as he moved to kiss my neck. He was practically attacking me with his lips. “What are you doing?”
“I missed you,” he panted, lifting me up to sit on the counter, spreading my thighs so he could stand between them.
Heat rushed through me at his words. He grabbed the hem of my shirt and pulled it over my head, exposing my naked tits.
I couldn’t quite wrap my head around what was happening, but I wasn’t really resisting him.
My front door was still wide open—but the screen door was shut, thankfully.
He slid a rough hand up my stomach to cup my breast, using the other to grip the back of my neck, position me so I couldn’t get away from him.
His tongue swept along the seam of my lips and I parted them, a little whine escaping me.
He swallowed the sound, pressing his hips forward so his erection was brushing my core.
“Where’s your bedroom?”
I started to point around the corner, but he just scooped me up and walked down the hall, not needing much instruction. Wasn’t like there were many places to go in the trailer. My bedroom was extremely easy to find.
He threw me onto my bed and I landed on my back with a bounce.
Mason lunged forward, capturing both of my wrists with one hand and pinning them high above my head. My mind was spinning.
“You can’t just show up here,” I said through my heavy breathing, struggling against his hold. The bones of my wrists ached. “This is why I didn’t want you to know where I lived.”
He used his free hand to grip the front of my shorts, fingers curling into the waistband as he tugged them down my thighs, then off me. My underwear, too. I sucked in a sharp breath. Holy shit. I’d never been turned on this much this fast in my life.
“I told you to be ready, baby,” he growled, staring down at my naked body stretched out on the bed below him, arching. My nipples were hard and my skin hot, the cotton comforter cool and soft against my back.
“I didn’t really mean what I said when I was texting you,” I said in a rush. “Okay, Mason? You can’t just do things to me without my permission.”
I was suddenly nervous. As much as he’d somehow learned about me, it felt like I didn’t know a single true thing about him. All I knew was that he was fucking insane and had gotten me entirely naked about a minute after forcing his way through my front door.
“Yeah, I can.” He slapped my breast and my eyes rolled, chills covering my bare skin.
“No.” I gritted my teeth. “You can’t.”
He leaned closer. “Watch me.”
If he spread my legs, he’d see just how fucking wet I already was from this horrible invasion. That’s what Mason was. An invasion. Into my home, into my body, into my mind, into my entire life.
He was kneeling on my thighs, making me completely immobilized. Is this a fantasy, or is it real? Where’s the line? Where do we stop? I couldn’t stop the thoughts from storming my skull, fear striking like lightning, arousal rolling like thunder.
Everything was always so tangled with him. I couldn’t separate any of my emotions; they all consumed me, all messed me up.
“I’ll scream.” I had to bite my lower lip to keep from moaning as he pinched my nipple. My clit was throbbing, pulsing, heat burning low in my belly.
“I’ll choke you so hard you won’t be able to make any noise at all.”
“Make me pass out again?” I asked through my teeth, sweating. Mason’s thumb brushed back and forth over my nipple, making me desperate for more of it. “You wanna fuck me unconscious, Mason? Or maybe you already did. I wouldn’t know.”
“You’d know if I fucked you.” A smirk lifted the corner of his lips. I wanted to slap it off his perfect face.
He bent forward and sucked my other nipple into his warm mouth, laving his tongue over the sensitive, needy tip of it. My hips bucked, thighs quivering, stomach tightening. I needed more. My core ached, my pussy clenching around nothing, slickness dripping down to the crease of my ass.
The way he was kneeling on me made it so my legs were held tightly together. Desperation clawed at me wildly.
“Get off of me,” I sobbed, Mason’s wet tongue licking a hot path between my breasts. “I didn’t give you permission to do any of this to me.”
“Off of you?” He arched an eyebrow, then slowly released my wrists from his grip, moving to spread my thighs as he knelt between them, kissing a line down my stomach. He paused, hovering his mouth over my pussy. I was frozen, a bad feeling lurking in the back of my mind, an uneasy confusion.
Even though he was no longer holding me down, I still hadn’t moved an inch.
I’m broken.
I wanted him. His lips were so close to where I needed them.
A quiet, pathetic whine tore from my throat.
“Since you seem to care so much about consent, I’ll let you go ahead and tell me what you want. Exactly what you want.”
His breath was warm on my bare skin. Gently, he used his thumbs to hold me open.
I squeezed my eyes shut, my thoughts conflicted. You are fucking evil.
“Words, Dakota.”
“Just do it,” I cried, wanting to sink into the bed. How did he always do this to me?
“Do what?” Mason leaned forward a tiny bit, the tip of his tongue only a fraction of an inch away from my clit. “Be more specific.” He flicked it once, just the whisper of a touch, and I broke.
“Eat me out. Please. Mason.”
“Are you begging? Want to make sure this is fully consensual.”
I despise everything about myself when I’m with you. “Yes! I’m begging!”
And then his mouth was on my pussy, eating me ravenously, like he was starving. Like he’d die without it.
I was about to come after three goddamn seconds.
Mason wedged two fingers inside of me, sucking on my clit, his tongue so hot and wet and skilled and perfect, working me up until I was panting and gripping his hair, grinding on his gorgeous face. I couldn’t stop myself from tilting my hips up towards his wicked mouth; I was helpless.
He raised his palm to slap my tits a few more times, each impact sending a tiny bolt of electricity zipping down my spine. Moans poured from my lips unrestrained, spiraling around my bedroom, mocking me as I played with my own nipples and ground against Mason’s slick mouth.
He’d broken into my home, basically assaulted me, then had me begging for him by the end.
How am I ever supposed to fight back when he’s like this?
What will happen when he knows about my true worst thoughts?
Thinking about it made me as terrified as it made me wet.
Orgasm built hot and fast in my veins, pulling low in my belly, barreling into me like a train.
Pleasure stole every sense, sprawling through my body, unfurling into every inch of me.
Warming my chest, tightening my thighs, hardening my breaths.
Mason kept licking and kissing me until I was pulling him off, overstimulated.
“Why would you do that?” I choked out, sitting up and scooting away from him.
He looked at me like he was confused by my question, like it somehow didn’t make sense to him. “Make you come?”
“No. Make me confused like that.”
“You didn’t sound confused to me.”
I crossed my arms. “Why are you here, Mason? And if you’re expecting me to return any favors, you’re going to be disappointed.”
“I wasn’t expecting that. I was here to ask if you had a bathing suit.”
My jaw dropped open. “And that was, what, the introduction to your question?
“I missed you. Do you have a bathing suit?”
The way my heart fluttered at those words made me sick. They affected me as badly the second time as they had the first time. I missed you. It was so simple, and still, I needed to hear it.
“Why?” I questioned, eyes narrowing.