Chapter 11 Eva
EVA
Before I can wrap my head around Mason’s crude words, he settles on my bed and leans against the velvet headboard, with me on his lap.
In that single moment, I forget how to breathe.
Wordlessly, I protest in his hold, too afraid to make a sound.
Because, even with him so uncomfortably, dizzyingly close, I’m brutally aware of his weapon and the proximity of my friends, who remain oblivious and undefended, on the other side of that door.
Not that he needs the gun. He could take care of the three of us, just using the strength with which he is pinning me to him.
Air strangles in my chest as I try to push him away, try to push myself off him, but I only manage to rub myself all over the hard bulge between his legs.
Slowly, my nightdress rises. The gravity between us feels ruinous, threatening to scorch my resolve. Heat pounds my core, throbbing between my legs as dread and desire dance a dangerously thin line.
He yanks open his belt and unzips his jeans, then kicks them off, all the while balancing me on his lap. Then he reaches into his boxers—
“Mason,” I whisper-yell, shaking my head furiously. “No!”
“No?” He tilts his head to one side, imitating my headshake, a smile curling his lips like the wicked sadist he is. “Are you as sure as death and taxes?”
I glare at him, my heart thundering so loud, I’m surprised my ribs are still intact.
“Give me one good reason.” He tucks a loose strand behind my ear.
“You hate me!” I breathe out.
“So? You hate me, too. Hate sex is the best. Any other objections?”
“I don’t want it.” My voice is so weak, even I don’t believe it.
“That might be more convincing if you weren’t soaking wet and humping my cock as you lie through your teeth.”
A tumble of emotions rolls off me as I realize I’m not just accidentally rubbing myself on him; I’m unconsciously dry-humping him.
What the fuck is wrong with me? This is so… wrong.
I stop and try to jump off him, but he holds my waist in his death grip and pins me to him.
His bulge throbs and begins to rise against my humiliating wet panties, while his warm hand strokes my calf, dragging up my thighs, his touch sending sparks racing through my body.
“See, you have no good reason to stop me from plowing your little cunt with my cock,” he whispers as his hand slithers under my dress.
My heart stutters. Whatever the reasons for my complete lack of control around this man, I’m not ready for this, or for his crude words, or the sight of the thick crown of his dick, now protruding out of his boxers.
“I’m a virgin,” I whisper, then bite my lip.
Now, why the hell did you have to tell him that?
Is there one vulnerable piece of you that you’ll keep to yourself?
Mason’s brows furrow, hand pausing on my barely covered arse for a moment before—Slap!
Did he just spank me?
“Don’t fucking lie to me,” he barks.
“It’s not a lie,” I say, offended.
“You expect me to believe you got to twenty with that face and this fucking body without a cock inside you?”
Was that supposed to be a compliment?
It isn’t for lack of trying. I came close with my ex. It just never felt right. Or even this wrong. Sinful. Forbidden. Worth being damned for.
But it’s a personal choice. One I won’t be shamed for.
“Just because you decided to whore yourself out since adolescence, doesn’t mean everyone else does.”
“Why not?” he asks, his voice genuinely curious.
“Just… didn’t happen,” I whisper.
“It’s happening now, no?” He cups both my arse cheeks, his fingers digging into my soft skin as he starts moving me up and down his bulge.
I stare at Mason, speechless. The man is a walking sin, masked as a human. Every feature crafted with precision, intended to lure you in. A face so devastatingly beautiful, it teases the edges of your sanity.
“You don’t want it to be me?” he asks, before his gaze flicks to the door and his nails into my flesh. “Do you want it to be him? Is that why you are wearing this?” His eyes peer down the cleavage of my nightdress that’s sticking to my skin like poured ink.
I purse my lips. He has already pierced all boundaries, gained access to every weakness, I can’t give him this too.
“I’m not ready,” I whisper.
“But you are.” He smirks and looks at his boxers, the cotton soaking with the wetness from my silk panties. “You want me.”
Mason leans in and kisses my jaw, then continues down my throat, pecking and sucking as he moves to my chest. Not an ounce of reluctance. He touches me like he has every right to. He has my body in such a spellbound state that it no longer responds to my brain.
“Mason,” I moan, my fingers curling around the hard muscles of his broad shoulders.
“Fine.” He chuckles, making me stop. “As long as it’s my name on your lips, I won’t fuck you tonight.”
That’s it? He is giving up? Why do I feel disappointed?
Wait—is it showing on my face?
“I told you I’m not fucking you tonight, little dove.” He flashes a crooked smile. “You don’t have to hold back now. Use me as you please.”
His finger hooks under the strap of my dress on my shoulder.
I bite my lip, but don’t stop him as he pulls it down on one side.
My breast pops out, right into his face.
He doesn’t hesitate to wrap those lush lips around my nipple and starts sucking in soft strokes.
My breaths come faster, air sawing into my lungs in sharp, rapid bursts.
The warmth of his touch gathers in my chest, spreading like hot honey, coursing through my veins, making me yearn for more.
“Why are you doing this to me?”
He chuckles, then bites my nipple. Hard. Pain shoots through my core. Then—instant pleasure.
“Fuck,” I cry and my body bows. My spine curls, melting into him, giving in to my excruciating desire for this beautiful monster.
My fingers rake into his hair, pushing his head into my breast, as I bite my lip and move myself up and down his cock.
“Good girl,” he whispers against my flushed breast. “Show me how much you want your king’s cock.”
And just like that, I’m wetter than I have ever been before.
Damn it.
I do as he commands. Yearning for that praise, I begin rocking my hips at an angle, my nails digging into him for balance. The soft fabric of his boxers lets me feel every part of his huge cock as I helplessly grind myself all over him—like I’m in someone else’s body.
A slow, dark heat pools inside me as my movements begin, shoving the edge of his boxers down, pushing them lower and lower, digging for his hard shaft. It’s so hot I’m surprised my panties haven’t caught fire already. A little part of me desperately wants them to burn, then melt and vanish.
His naked cock rises from his boxers, as hard as a stone pillar, the tip edging into the side rim of my panties. Slowly, it breaches the threshold, turning me into a moaning, spluttering mess.
Crowding my underwear and forcing my pussy lips apart, his cock rises until he’s fully wedged in, and I’m rubbing my arousal up and down the entire length of his shaft.
“Fuck me, Eva,” Mason hisses against my nipple.
His head snaps up, fingers knotting the back of my head in a tight hold as he watches me shamelessly grind against his cock, continuing on my mission of self-degradation.
“You see why I have trouble believing you are fucking virgin, right?” he growls, his eyes turning dark and feverishly intense.
Sliding a finger under the top band, he pulls my underwear down, slightly, just enough to see his crown kiss my clit. Again and again.
The hunger on his face is a brutal, mesmerizing sight.
“You should come with a warning label, little dove,” he groans. His fingers clutch the fragile silk, tight. “I deserve a medal for not ripping these panties and fucking this beautiful cunt, right fucking now. Unless you’ve changed your mind?”
I shake my head, even as I rock my hips, chasing my peak.
“Open your mouth,” he grunts. My lips part slightly, and he sticks his thumb in. “Suck.”
I do. Wrapping my lips around the base, I suck it in, tasting his intoxicating whiskey and smoke. It’s familiar, nostalgic.
With his free hand, he grabs my waist and starts moving me faster. So fast, fire licks my skin with every brush against him.
“Fuck.” Mason’s head falls back, his face twisting in erotic pleasure. Like a god, pleased.
That look, that face, is enough to undo me. My mouth falls open on a cry I can’t hold in any longer. His hand, slathered in my saliva, wraps around my jaw and juts it up.
“Eyes on me, princess.” His gaze flares. “I want to see the Etheridge pride melt in these ocean eyes when you come for me.”
A powerful wave builds inside me, rising like the tide, heat pooling between my legs, stronger than ever. He thrusts his cock against my clit again, and I’m done. Held under the weight of his gaze, fisting his shirt, I fall apart, whimpering his name.
“Fuck,” he grunts as his warmth fills my underwear, ruining what’s left of them when the frail band finally snaps, and his cum floods both of our thighs and on my sheets. All over my nightdress.
My body shakes from the orgasm so hard I would collapse onto him if he weren’t holding me up.
He fixes my gaze—the fire in his eyes still alive—then looks down.
“Look at the mess you’ve made.” He smiles, gathering his cum from my thighs between two fingers, working his way up. “Didn’t I make it clear: you have to clean up your mess?”
Without warning, he shoves two fingers inside my wet pussy.
I gasp.
This is the first time anyone has touched me here.
The first time my pussy had something to clench around.
And it’s clenching—my walls grip him for dear life.
My jaw drops in a raspy moan when he drives his fingers in and out, slowly fucking his cum into my pussy, then goes back for more. Every thrust, unbearably hot.
Am I still a virgin if I have his cum inside me?
I can’t take it anymore. My medication begins to kick in, threatening to pull me under. I fight to keep my eyes open as he walks his claiming fingers deeper inside me, my breath hitching when his fingertips feel my hymen.
“Hmm… it seems you weren’t lying,” he whispers, eyes dark and piercing. “I didn’t claim your cunt tonight, but I have marked it, little dove. You belong to me now. No one else is allowed to touch you.”
He lifts my chin, forcing me to look at him as my eyes flutter, struggling to remain open any longer. His face blurs in and out, clouding my vision, before my head hits his chest in surrender, my body turning limp in his arms, the shadows slowly reeling me in.
“Mine,” he growls into my ear, dragging my hair away from my face.
That word sinks in as the merciless darkness consumes me.
What the hell did I get myself into?
Did I just make a deal with the devil?