Chapter 23— #2
I swallow, weighing my options. It’s a long hallway. He’s standing somewhere toward the end by the bathroom and my bedroom, leaving only the front door on my left accessible.
I’d rather be caught dead than locked out of my apartment in nothing but my towel.
I consider diving past him to make it into my bedroom and lock the door. Would he kick it down to get to me?
Since he broke in without making a sound, I’m starting to believe he has a key to my apartment. Would he justify causing that kind of damage?
Where does he draw the line?
I take a timid step, the cold slickness that meets me from below reminding me of my lack of underwear.
Mason mirrors my movement, challenging me, but I still can’t make out his face in the dark as he flips the knife in his grip, blade going back instead of out toward me. I assume it’s so he won’t accidentally stab me.
“You know I don’t need to touch you to get you wet, baby girl,” his voice reminds me. “You can already feel me fucking you. ”
Yes, I can feel his greedy hands mapping my curves, nudging between my thighs.
My clit throbs more vehemently. His words hit their mark. He’d hardly have to touch me, and I’d come apart in his hold.
Making my move, I feign right, then lunge left and duck under him—
But Mason is faster. His arms lock around me from behind.
He laughs, mocking my attempt. “Did you really think that was gonna work?”
It’s only now that I realize his voice is slightly muffled by something.
“Fuck, you smell good,” he groans, nose-diving into my damp hair.
Mason tightens his embrace, and every solid ridge of him from his chest to his hips presses into me.
Then he lets me slip his hold, but not without the cost of my towel. A breeze hits me when he snatches it from my body as I tear away from him and spin around, facing him fully naked, mere inches apart.
That’s when I finally see his face.
Or his head at least. His dark blond hair is tousled. His eyes are dark. A black cloth mask covers his nose and mouth with the bottom half of a skull.
Fuck me! He looks so hot.
Mason’s breaths fall heavy through the face shield, his intense eyes scanning over every inch of my bare skin.
An inferno rages low in my belly as I watch the heaving of his chest, shoulders lifting and dropping with the motion. He has me questioning my sanity. Every inch of my body screams for his coarse touch… for his hands to squeeze me and his mouth to kiss, bite or suck.
He tips his head, holding up the towel. “Dropped something?”
“Keep it.” Without taking the bait, I whirl around to make a second run toward my bedroom.
I don’t make it two steps.
I shriek as Mason’s hand cuffs my upper arm. He hauls me around and slams my back into the wall.
Alarm bells of a new level ring in my ears. I catch only a glimpse of his masked face before the knife’s blade plunges into the drywall up to the hilt right beside my head.
I tremble with the vibration. “Oh God, Mason, stop!” Fear has me in a chokehold. He’s taking it too far.
He rips his mask down. “What if it wasn’t me?” he rasps, leaning over me. “What if someone else broke into your place to get himself a little piece of you?”
I suck in half a breath before his mouth crushes to mine, his tall muscled body flattening me further against the wall at my back.
He claims me like a hurricane. Unyielding. Unapologetically.
When his hands wrench my legs apart to thrust his hips at me, I bristle in anticipation of his jeans stroking my bare and still-tender flesh.
But instead of meeting the rough texture of his fly, my body melts against his boxer briefs.
Fuck, he’s hard under the soft cotton .
Panting and grunting, he grips the back of my thighs to grind himself into me, fast and harsh, every thrust catching my clit. He’s close.
God! Fuck! So am I.
His open mouth slanted over mine Mason pants down my throat, “You’re so hot and wet, baby. Soak me. Let me feel you come.”
I unravel fully under his demand. Meeting his fierce movements, I climax from the most intense dry humping of my life.
Mason follows me over the edge only a second later, the jerking of his hip against mine drawing the last shivers from me.
Lowering my legs to the ground, he rests his head at my temple “Fuck, that was so hot.”
I almost laugh at his words. It’s what Ash said right after we had sex on his bike in the woods. Twin minds really work alike.
“Where’s Ash?”
I regret asking the second the question slips out. His brother’s name is probably not the first thing he wants to hear out of my mouth after what we just did.
I feel his body tense before he says, “Work.” Then he straightens to zip himself up and readjust his sweatshirt.
“At the shop?” At this hour?
“No.” Mason hesitates, looming over me but no longer touching. “A different job. We freelance.”
They have second jobs?
The way his eyes darken before they pull away suggests I don’t want to know what it entails .
Perhaps this is the job that really pays their bills. The bikes. The house.
I slide my hands up his neck, pulling him back into me. “You are so different from your brother,” I remark. Despite the occasional slip of the tongue.
He traces my cheek with his gloved fingertips. “And that’s a bad thing?”
“No. But…”
“But Ash goes down smooth where as I am an acquired taste ?”
“Yeah,” I agree with a soft laugh.
“And do you?”
“Do I what?”
He lowers his mouth to mine. “Like the taste of me?” he asks, the words feathering across my lips in a murmur.
“Mmmhm.”
His eyes drop to the source of my hum. Mason angles his head more, his nose brushing my cheek, and I expect him to kiss me, but instead he straightens.
“Here’s your key,” he says, fishing the small metal object from the front pocket of his jeans. “After your shift tomorrow, get your ass in your car and drive to our place. Don’t make me come get you.”
He plants a quick kiss on my lips and stalls for a heartbeat, our eyes locking, a grin pulling at his mouth.
When he swings around and rips the door open, I note that it wasn’t locked. Did I forget to turn the bolt, or did he really make a copy of my key?
I wouldn’t put it past him to sneak in while I’m asleep .
“Wait!” I straighten off the wall. “Are you just gonna leave that there?”
Hand on the door, Mason’s brow furrows, and he looks at me like he doesn’t know what I’m referring to. Then his stare shifts to where mine gestured beside my head.
I swear there’s a flicker of confusion on his face as to how his knife ended up in the wall in the first place before he steps forward and yanks it free.
I can see the effort it takes in the tension of his body. He really jammed it in there.
“Sorry about that,” he says, retracting the blade and storing it back in his pocket. “I got carried away.” He shrugs, then spins around to take off.
Carried away and then some, I muse.