Chapter 26
Dakota
Mason had given me some of his clothes to change into for pajamas, and even though I’d brought my own, I was wearing his shirt now. It smelled like him, and I couldn’t resist that.
I needed to get up and plug in my phone charger because my phone was about to die, but I didn’t want to move. His bed was so comfortable. Mason wasn’t in here, though, and I didn’t know where he’d gone. His absence ached a little bit, but what did I expect? Sex probably didn’t mean anything to him.
My head lifted from the pillow when I heard footsteps into the room. I sat up fully, jaw dropping open.
“What is this?”
“You said you were hungry,” Mason explained, setting the plate down on the end of the bed.
“I just said that—you didn’t have to make anything for me,” I spluttered, feeling my face get red.
“These are toaster waffles, baby. I’d hardly count that as making something.
” He held out a fork and I took it hesitantly, then he gave me an unopened bottle of syrup.
I peeled the little plastic seal off, then poured some on the stack of blueberry waffles Mason had put on a plate for me. Did he buy all this just for me?
“I went back to that diner,” I told him. It felt weird to have somebody make food for me like this. “I just got coffee, though.”
“I wish I’d been there. I would’ve gotten you some more waffles.”
“Then fuck me in the back of your car?”
“Or bring you back here.” Mason reached forward to tuck a lock of hair behind my ear. “Keep you here forever.”
I rolled my eyes, cutting another big bite of waffle for myself. “No. You’re a stranger to me.”
“Ask me questions, then,” he prompted, laying on his side, watching me eat while I wore his shirt.
His apartment was on the sixth floor, which wasn’t too tall, but the windows here were a lot higher than the ones in my bedroom, which I liked.
I could see other tall buildings, all their little glowing windows, the red blinking lights on top of things in the distance, the deep purple sky, smudged with clouds.
“What’s your first real memory?” I asked.
“Not that question.”
I crossed my arms, glaring at him. “Yes, that one.”
He looked off to the side for a moment while he thought. “It’s not a good memory,” he started.
“I don’t mind.”
“Dakota—I can’t answer this question. Not if you want me to be honest.” His brown eyes slid back to meet mine, their darkness pulling me in. I want to know. You can trust me with this. He could probably see my thoughts on my face, because he shook his head again.
“Okay,” I relented, my chest aching for whatever it was he couldn’t talk about. “What’s your favorite holiday?”
“Uhhh.” He trailed off. “When’s your birthday? December?”
I smacked his shoulder. “Stop. Not every answer can be about me. But yes, it’s December eighth, since you’re curious.”
“My favorite holiday is Christmas, then. Yours?”
“Also Christmas.” It was the only time my childhood ever felt special in any capacity, because we had a Christmas tree. It was just a fake tabletop one, quite sparse as Christmas trees went, but I loved the multicolored lights on it, loved staring at it glowing in the night.
“Why’s that? Presents?”
“My childhood was not the type to be full of presents, unfortunately. But I like the snow, and the lights on the tree.” I stabbed another piece of waffle with my fork, then shoved it in my mouth, feeling too vulnerable now.
“White lights or the colorful ones?”
“Colorful.” I swallowed my bite, then pushed the plate away, towards Mason, laying flat on my back and staring at his ceiling.
“I like that.”
He took the plate out of the room, then came back a few minutes later and turned off the lamp on his nightstand, darkness enveloping the room.
I snuggled under his comforter, ignoring the fact that my phone would definitely run out of battery overnight—but then Mason plugged it in, without even asking me.
My eyes followed him back to the bed, before I hid my face in the pillow.
“Thank you,” I said, my voice muffled.
“Come here,” he mumbled, looping his arms around my waist and yanking me onto his side of the bed, pulling me against his warm body.
A secret smile pushed at the corners of my mouth and I let myself relax into him, a bit scared of how attached I was starting to feel.
He was destructive and unstable and a million other bad things.
But so was I.
And he didn’t seem to be bothered by that. He didn’t shy away from my brokenness. So maybe I could touch his for a little while longer.
━━━━━
I rolled my head to the side, the pillow soft on my face, my mind still hazy from sleep.
It took me a second to realize where I was, why I was naked and surrounded by black sheets.
But the soreness between my legs made it easy to remember.
We’d had sex again in the night, and the shirt Mason lent me was now covered in cum and laying somewhere on the ground.
I slipped out of bed, looking back at Mason still asleep, laying on his stomach with his head turned away from me. The comforter had fallen down his back and I could see his scars perfectly, twisted into his skin, stretching from his shoulders down to his spine.
Worried he might wake up, I hurried into the bathroom, bag in hand, then shut and locked the door behind myself.
It was a bit colder in here compared to the bedroom and I wrapped my arms around myself while I went to pee, then brushed my teeth.
My hair was a disaster, so I got to work brushing it out until my lengths hung tangle-free to my ass.
Then I got dressed and took my medications. Important for me not to miss my birth control now that I had a nightmare of a man finishing inside of me. I smiled to myself when I thought about it. Stupid.
When I quietly opened the door to the bathroom, I could see Mason was no longer in his bed. My stomach sank. I’d been hoping to leave before he noticed I was awake, to be long gone before he could trap me here for real. Carefully, I crept out into the hall, listening for him.
It was almost a compulsion, this need to try and push him away, to see if he’d come back again. Like I needed him to keep proving that I still wasn’t too much for him every time he uncovered some new piece of me.
He was in the kitchen, eyes tracking me as I passed him on my way to the front door.
“Trying to leave?” Mason crossed the room fast, cutting me off.
“I have class,” I reminded him, trying to squeeze around his large body blocking the door. It was requiring enough courage of me to leave without any hindrance; this would be my first time seeing Dr. Killshaw after leaving his office in a whirlwind of regret and panic.
“What class?” he pushed.
“Unit Ops first, then Process Design. Can I go now?”
“Who teaches those?” He still wouldn’t budge, strangely concerned by my responses.
“It doesn’t matter who teaches them. You wouldn’t know any of my teachers.”
Something flickered in his eyes, but it was gone too quickly for me to identify it. He stood taller, crossing his arms. “You need to shower. You look like you just got fucked.”
“Oh, my God. Who cares?” I asked, my voice raising in volume as I started to get exasperated. He’d been weird about this the first time I hooked up with him, too. Telling me to shower before class.
“Me. I’ll drive you to campus. Go shower.” His eyes searched mine. “You’ve still got my sweat and cum on you.”
I narrowed my eyes. What are you hiding?
The only reason I turned around then was because class didn’t start for another two hours, and it would be really nice to get a ride instead of taking the bus. I wasn’t sure how far the closest bus stop was from here, anyway.
I stomped across Mason’s apartment, hearing him close on my heels as I shoved into his bedroom, then entered the bathroom.
He watched me through the mirror while he started the shower and I put my hair up in a messy bun on top of my head. Neither of us were speaking, and neither of us were looking away from the other. Annoyingly, it was making me wet.
I stripped all my clothes off; he kept his gaze pinned to mine.
The tiles were cold on my feet, my nipples hardening in the cool air and goosebumps spreading across my skin, raising the hairs on my arms. Steam started to fog up the glass shower stall.
Mason followed me with his eyes as I crossed the room and pulled the door to the shower open.
I paused for an instant, a weird feeling in my stomach. Like dread.
What are you thinking?
What are you about to do?
The second I stepped into the shower and pulled the door shut, Mason was right there, flinging it back open.
My breath caught in my throat.
I stumbled backwards against the wall, the hot spray washing over my body and the obsidian tiles slick on my back.
Mason reached into the shower fully clothed, water soaking his shirt as he grabbed me and hauled me out. I yelped in protest at the sudden coldness, but Mason was already flipping me around, pushing me down on the bathmat while he shoved down his shorts in front, fisting his hard cock.
“Say you’re mine,” he demanded.
“What?” I gasped, a rush shooting through my veins.
He pinned me down with his weight, his cock prodding my entrance.
I squirmed beneath him, feeling myself getting wetter, whining at the feeling of my hard nipples on the textured bathmat.
I gritted my teeth, pushing with my legs a little to rub my chest over the fibers as Mason pinned my hands behind my back.
“Say you’re mine.”
“I’m yours,” I moaned, not sure if I meant it. But I wanted to mean it. I wanted it to be true. I don’t know how that happened.
Heat spread up from my thighs, flooding my core. My pussy throbbed and I whimpered, face down on the floor.
I sucked in a harsh breath, not prepared for the sting of his invasion, but craving it nonetheless.
“Fuck,” he grunted. “Mine. You’re so goddamn pretty. So soft. So perfect.”
Tiny drops of water were spraying out of the open shower door, misting me with coldness. Droplets accumulated on my skin and dripped down into the bathmat, leaving chills and shivers in their wake as fresh goosebumps covered me.
Seeming to notice I was cold, Mason flipped me onto my back, dragging me back into the shower.
I gasped as he pushed my legs out wide, covering me with his body.
I wrapped my legs around his torso, the warm water pummeling his shoulders and flowing onto my body as I lay flat on the tile.
Mason’s shirt was soaked completely through, sticking to his torso, showing off every perfectly carved inch of him.
I want you so badly. I want this all the time.
Initially, I’d hoped not to get my hair wet. But that ship had sailed now, because Mason was fucking me on the shower floor, water pouring over both of us, dripping off his nose and chin then landing on my face.
He fucked me hard and fast and angry and I loved it.
We were toxic together, and I knew this wasn’t going to last forever, and I also knew it would destroy me when it ended, but for now…I needed it.
When I looked at him, I could see the end. Even now.
We weren’t meant to last very long. Burn bright, then burn out. Or maybe we’d just kill each other.
But whatever happened, I wanted it. I wanted to be here with him through all of it.
He could handle me, and I could handle him.
For a second, I let myself imagine that impossible future, the one in which we ended up together. It was a daydream, a stupid thought. But my heart ached with it, swelled with it, bled for it.
Maybe in some alternate universe it was true that we could touch without hurt, feel without drowning.
Just not this one.
I cupped my breasts, rolling my nipples between my fingers, watching Mason’s muscular body move with my mouth open, panting harshly. My impossible, terrible, perfect, storm of a man.
After a minute, I slipped one hand down so I could rub my clit, still staring at the real life porn above me. His hair was wet and dark and hanging in his face, reminding me of when I met him in the ocean, and his straight brows were furrowed with concentration.
“When did you learn how to lie?” he asked without ceasing his movements. Just another piece of me he wanted to steal for himself.
“When I was fourteen,” I answered honestly, but I didn’t give him the rest of the sentence. When I was fourteen, and an older boy started sticking his dick in me. He taught me to lie for him.
“Who taught you?”
“That’s a secret.”
“I’m fucking obsessed with you,” he groaned, leaning forward to bury his face in my shoulder while he continued to fuck me. “I want to know.”
Too bad. You don’t get to know.
It didn’t take me long to come after that, and Mason followed me shortly, spurting ropes of cum on my stomach and tits while grunting my name into the hot water and steam.
He kissed the bottom of my foot after that, the one with the scar from when I’d stepped on glass running from him. It made me feel…cared for.
Despite the fact I only had that injury because of him.
Eventually, he let me stand so I could actually shower. I was a little pissed now about my wet hair, and the general state of the morning.
“You’re really annoying,” I said loudly, so Mason could hear me through the glass. He was out of the shower now, naked with his wet clothes hung over the side of the bathtub while he shaved his face.
“Yeah? How?”
“I didn’t want to get my hair wet. Now it’s all the way soaked, and you don’t even have actual conditioner. You have two-in-one.” I shuddered with revulsion. My hair was going to feel so gross.
“I’ve got a nice hairdryer. I’ll dry it for you.”
“You do?”
“I think so.” He walked across to a small closet near the entrance of the bathroom, then pulled out a sleek hairdryer and showed it to me—still in the box.
Did he even live here? Why was his entire life like this?
The playlist on his phone, the picture on his lock screen, the lack of personality in both.
It was like he wasn’t even living his own life.
It just existed, void of an occupant. And then there was Mason, doing something else. Tormenting me, I guess.
“Okay,” I grumbled, then finished my shower.