Chapter 45
Mason
Despite the fact that it’d been almost a week since I first saw Dakota in Micah’s home, it felt like every one of my ribs had been cracked open, and my vital organs ripped out of my chest as I sat here now.
She wasn’t always around, but when she was, she was glued to him.
I hadn’t actually spoken to her a single time outside of fucking polite dinner conversation between the three of us.
Do you like going to the beach? What book is that?
How were your classes? Like I cared about any of that.
I didn’t even know why Micah wanted me to stay for dinner in the first place. To torture me? To remind me that I owed him in some way? His sadistic streak couldn’t have been more evident.
Every ounce of my strength was being used to keep myself in control, just so Micah wouldn’t reach into my head and do it himself. If he suspected Dakota and I knew each other, he wasn’t showing it. I almost wished he would show it, so I could quit pretending.
Dakota curled up smaller on his lap, her eyes shifting over to meet mine for a fraction of a second as Micah massaged her hip.
Something was playing on the TV but I didn’t know what it was, nor did I care.
The volume was too low to really watch, anyway.
I wanted to leave, but I was concerned Micah would make a scene if I tried.
So I remained sitting on the couch, a knot in my stomach and hatred consuming my mind.
For both of them.
Micah, for taking Dakota from me. Dakota, for letting him. How could she? At least Micah presumably didn’t know that Dakota was mine…but she knew.
I felt the same way I had picking her up from campus that one night, when she smelled like Micah but wouldn’t tell me what she’d been doing.
It was like that but worse now, because I had to actually watch them together in front of my fucking face.
At least there had been some amount of uncertainty on that night—but not anymore.
Do you let him fuck you the way I fuck you?
Does he know about your sick little fantasy? I’ll bet he doesn’t.
I crossed my arms to hide the electricity threatening to spark around my fingers.
This was also the first time I’d even seen Micah with someone other than myself. I didn’t like it. I hated being reminded of everything they’d done together, that they had their own brand of intimacy—which I wasn’t a part of. Dakota actually liked him, somehow.
She didn’t know him like I did.
He was playing with the ends of her hair, twirling them between his fingers, looping them around his knuckles.
“You want her to blow you?” Micah asked me, his icy stare fixed on my expression, watching me. A cold sweat instantly broke out across my back. It was about the last thing I expected to hear come out of his mouth.
“What the fuck?” I nearly choked.
“Did you not hear me?”
“I must’ve heard wrong,” I gritted out. “Sounded like you were asking if I wanted my dick sucked by the girl sitting on your lap. No idea why you would ask that, so I must’ve misheard.”
“You didn’t mishear.”
Dakota’s eyes were bouncing back and forth between the two of us. I could see from here the way she was pressing her thighs together, see her flushed cheeks and parted lips. Did he discuss this with her already, or was she as surprised as me? I couldn’t tell.
“That’s insane.” I adjusted how I was sitting as heat flooded my groin.
“Is it? You’re looking at her like you want your dick in her mouth.”
“You’re bluffing.”
“I’m not.”
He was just wicked enough that I couldn’t confidently say he was lying.
“Are you being serious? Are you seriously asking me this?”
“Yes. If you want her to suck your cock, she will. Why not? It’s just a blowjob.” He was rubbing her back now, like she was his possession he was preparing to use. It was so fucked. “You seem tense.”
Yeah. I am goddamn tense. Because I’ve been fucking the girl on your lap for weeks, and now she apparently belongs to you.
“I’m not tense.”
“That’s a lie.”
I fought the urge to roll my eyes. “Just a blowjob?” I echoed. “Feels like you’re trying to trick me into something.”
“I’m offering you something, because it seems like you want it.”
I had to bite my tongue to stop myself from snapping back at him.
This conversation was already exposing too much of the bitterness between us, and I didn’t want Dakota to find out any more.
For whatever reason, it seemed like Micah didn’t want her to know either.
Maybe that was the reason for the pointless dinners: a guise of normalcy.
“So, right here, right now?”
“Yes.”
Freak. I didn’t respond, running my tongue over my teeth.
Micah whispered something in Dakota’s ear and she stood up, then paced over to me, her eyes so big and gorgeous and her expression so nervous. Are both of you fucking with me? Her little tank top was doing nothing to conceal the hard points of her nipples.
I was in pure disbelief.
This had to be some game between them, and I was the collateral damage.
Or maybe Dakota was the collateral, and this was Micah getting back at me.
Could’ve gone either way. Regardless, Micah was the puppet master of it all.
Controlling everything.
Dakota straddled my lap but I didn’t touch her, keeping my hands firmly at my sides, looking at Micah over her shoulder.
How far did he want me to take this? She put her palms on my chest, leaning forward to kiss my jaw, then down my throat, her flickering tongue warm and wet on my skin.
Blood rushed to my cock, pumping me stiff.
Her lips brushed up the hollow of my neck, lingering just below my ear. “I’m sorry,” she breathed, so quietly I almost couldn’t hear it. The first real thing she’d said to me all week.
I didn’t want to forgive her, but I would. I’ll always fucking forgive you, baby, because you messed my mind up so bad I’m never getting it back.
She climbed off my lap, kneeling between my feet on the floor, fingers already curling in the waistband of my sweats.
I swallowed, hard. Her eyes dragged up my body, lingering on my own for a second, displaying all her twisted emotions.
Fear, lust, pain, eagerness. She turned her gaze back to what she was doing.
I didn’t know whether to look at her or at Micah.
An agonizing moment of tension reeled out between the three of us, everyone anticipating the moment Dakota would cross this new line. The air was perfectly still, my own pulse the only sound thumping in my ears.
Is this seriously happening?
“Do it,” Micah ordered.
And then Dakota yanked my sweats down, my erection springing free between us.
I looked rapidly across the room to watch Micah staring at my dick, his eyes fixated on it. My jaw clenched painfully as I sucked in a deep breath, my stomach flexing. What the fuck are we doing? Why are you making her do this?
Too horny to care about resisting his game anymore, I took myself in my hand, then wrapped Dakota’s hair around my fist, guiding her mouth to the head of my cock.
She parted her lips, allowing my dick to slide between them, so pink and soft and wet with her saliva. I inhaled through my nose, a zap of electricity skittering up my spine.
Micah didn’t look away for a single second.
I wished I knew what he was thinking.
One of Dakota’s hands stayed on my thigh, nails digging into me, and the other wrapped around the base of my cock, moving with her mouth as she began to bob her head.
Her tits were pressed against the couch cushion, one of the thin straps from her tank top sliding off her slender shoulder, wrapped loose and flimsy around her upper arm.
I pushed my dick into her throat and the motion of her swallowing squeezed my tip.
I wanted it rougher, faster, harder, sloppier. But how could I get that from her without betraying the fact that I’d already done this with her? How could I shove her head down, make her choke on me, pinch off her air, without making Micah suspicious?
It was a special kind of torture, of twisted punishment.
Micah’s eyes drifted down, probably looking at Dakota’s ass in her tiny shorts, her bare feet on the carpet, her hair draping down her spine. Both his hands remained on the armrests of the chair, but I could see he was hard.
Our combined scents smothered the air in the room, ocean and forest mixing with the weaker smell of Dakota’s arousal. Soft and human, nothing like the force of angelic pheromones.
Dakota pulled off of me for a second to catch her breath and give her jaw a break, using her hand to keep stroking my length while her stare locked onto mine.
Her eyes were glossy, a few tears starting to drip down her cheeks, and her lips were swollen.
We needed to break our eye contact, to go back to pretending we didn’t know each other, but I just couldn’t.
She was embedded into my skull, consuming my every thought.
I wanted to hurt her. To do something terrible to her.
My brain was full of sick fantasies, images of Dakota under the water, fighting me, clawing at my arms, scratching my skin, her long hair swirling all around us, my hand tightening on her little throat.
Risky. Pushing a line that shouldn’t be pushed.
Going too far, always going too far. But she was sick like me, and maybe her brain was thinking of the same fantasies because she was staring at me like she wanted me to punish her for choosing him over me.
My fucked-up, messy, addictive, fear-seeking little masochist.
She rocked forward on her knees, shifting her chest on the couch cushion, then lowered her mouth to my dick again, taking me deep.
Micah’s hand tensed and flexed, like he needed to grab something—his cock or something else—and my own cock throbbed in response.
I wished he would. Wished he’d get his dick out like mine was, so I could see it.
Still, he remained composed.
And I was getting sloppier.
Fuck.