Chapter 32
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
MASON
There was a knock at the door to my apartment. I literally flinched. It was so unexpected. I wasn’t sure anyone had ever knocked on my door since I’d moved here. It wasn’t like I’d ordered food delivery, and my mail was always delivered to the mail room.
I got up from the couch, leaving Dakota curled up under a blanket, and looked through the peephole.
Micah?
What the fuck?
I opened the door tentatively, unsure of how to feel about this. Did he have bad news? What reason could he possibly have to show up at my apartment like this unannounced?
But the second I got the door open, he was shoving his way inside, and it was immediately clear he did not have bad news. I had no idea what his mood was, but it was not grief or solemnity.
He stalked past me towards Dakota on the couch, who was wide-eyed and staring, her cheeks blushing pink. She reached up for him as he approached her, letting him lift her into his arms, kissing his mouth, tucking her head against the side of his neck.
“Mason,” Micah started. “Come on.”
Dakota’s eyes flicked upward to meet mine over Micah’s shoulder. I wasn’t sure if she knew why he was here, but I didn’t think so.
Maybe I should’ve questioned Micah, resisted him a bit, but I didn’t.
Had they made up?
I’d pissed him off at the diner, which I shouldn’t have done.
Some bullshit about how she chose to shoot me instead of him, and it meant she was choosing me—in a way. She’d buried her bullets in my heart, not his. He was the outsider on the beach.
I hadn’t regretted trying to hurt him, but maybe I was starting to realize I should’ve.
Because now he was carrying her into my bedroom, like he fucking owned the place.
She fell onto the bed, her blonde hair flowering around her on the dark comforter, and Micah walked back out of the room, bypassing me without a word. I stared at his back as he disappeared down the hallway, the taper of his waist under his cotton shirt.
Dakota was lying on the bed with flushed cheeks, her legs bent up and thighs pressed together, fingers toying with the silver locket resting between her collarbones.
“Did you invite him here, baby?”
She shook her head. “No. I don’t know what’s happening.”
Great.
I thought about the beach again, about my gun in Dakota’s hand.
I wasn’t sure why the lie rolled off my tongue so fucking easily then.
She’d never even directly asked me a question; I simply offered up false information myself, telling her I’d never shot anyone either.
Which was false. I’d shot Micah before, at his request. Then he did it to me.
Just to see how it felt. But for whatever reason I told Dakota I hadn’t.
Maybe to avoid creating a more elaborate lie about the fictional person I’d have to explain I shot.
Micah reappeared in the doorway of my bedroom with a chair from the dining table I’d never once used. Solid wood, dark, slightly dusty. He continued into the room, dragging the chair behind him to sit at the corner of the bed.
I had a decent guess as to where this was going, seeing as he’d also brought rope to my apartment. Somebody was getting tied up, and I had a feeling it was not going to be Dakota today.
Micah leaned in to whisper in my ear, “Your turn to be the cuck.”
“Fuck, no,” I scoffed, despite the heat in my veins.
I was not a stranger to being restrained by Micah Killshaw.
Dakota’s eyes bounced back and forth between us.
“Masters,” Micah started, still staring me down as he addressed her. The dark arrogance on his face was affecting me more than I wanted it to. “Do you want Mason to watch how I fuck what’s mine?”
Don’t say yes.
You’re not his.
And you know I can’t deny you anything.
“I think yes,” she said, her voice shy as she put the pieces together on Micah’s revenge plot. I’d fucked Dakota in his bed, and now he would do the same to me. Micah’s satisfied expression in my peripheral vision had my muscles coiling tight.
But watching them fuck wouldn’t be the worst thing to ever happen to me.
I’d thought about it before.
And it was impossible to date Micah without turning into somewhat of a masochist. I could withstand a bit of pain with my lust. He could do worse.
Micah pulled Dakota off the bed and started taking all her clothes off. She didn’t protest a bit. He tugged his own shirt off over his head, then palmed his dick over his pants as Dakota stepped out of her underwear, her body fully unclothed now.
“Back on the bed,” he instructed.
She obeyed him right away.
It was fascinating and sickening at the same time, watching him with her, watching their relationship play out in front of my eyes.
I’d never submitted to him like that, but he was still the same person he’d been with me.
He still liked the same things, still spoke in a way that held his favorite silent threat. Don’t deny me.
Then he turned in my direction
“Take off your clothes,” he ordered, his tone offering no room for resistance. But I resisted anyway, staring flatly at him, my hands clenching into fists.
Micah grabbed the front of my t-shirt and ripped it straight off me.
I did nothing except stand motionless. I wasn’t going to help him do this to me.
He was undeterred, shoving me back towards the chair and yanking my shorts down. Since he had his back to Dakota, she couldn’t see the vulgar way he was looking at my body.
But I could.
Heat started to gather, low in my stomach, blood pumping to my groin. The air tasted like the place where the forest met the ocean, the place where we’d fallen to Earth—only darker now. More hateful, knotted with decades of anguish.
Micah forced me to sit, then tightly bound my wrists behind the back of the chair, wrapping the rope around my heaving chest and shoulders a few times for good measure, ensuring I was secured.
I gritted my teeth, hating the way my cock was swelling. My unwelcome arousal was too visible, my boxers crudely stretching around the rigid shape.
He prowled back over towards Dakota on my bed, grabbing the massive bulge in his pants as he eyed her shyly covering her chest with her arms. He looked every bit the carnivorous predator; she looked every bit the trapped prey.
He was going to eat her alive. Sink his teeth into her flesh and tear her apart.
Rip out her heart and consume it right in front of me.
Climbing onto the bed, he crawled over her, then pulled her to sit on his lap as he knelt, both of them facing me. Dakota’s face was pink.
Micah spread her trembling thighs out wide, holding her arms behind her back so she couldn’t hide anything from me—she couldn’t even try. Restrained by his strength, her flushed body entirely on display, all the places where she was pink and swollen available for me to look at.
Her terrified eyes hooked on mine.
My cock was fully erect at this point, confined miserably by cotton.
“I know you like when he touches you.” he murmured. Dakota didn’t move a muscle in response, her eyes so wide, her lips nervously rolled together. “But you like me better.”
Fuck you.
I bit my tongue.
I would’ve said it out loud, had I not known with absolute certainty that my verbal irritation would only make this entire experience more torturous.
Micah slid a hand down to skim his fingers over her exposed pussy, spreading her open, making her squirm. There was no coaxing, no encouragement, only the erotic sort of entitlement Micah always displayed. The inexorable force of his will.
That was part of the reason I liked topping him so much.
Nobody was allowed to hurt him. Nobody was allowed to even get close.
Except me.
…In the past.
“You can’t even help it, can you?” he asked with his mouth brushing her ear, fingers probing her entrance, stretching her out. “You like this so much that you’d let me do anything I wanted right now. You like it when I show off the place I’m about to fuck. So fucking wet, baby girl.”
He pushed two thick fingers knuckle-deep inside of her, and I bit back a groan, my erection straining.
Micah fingered Dakota while she whined, breathing harder, getting so wet I could hear it, and his fingers glistened when he pulled them out to rub her clit.
Her eyelids fluttered, her head tipped against his broad chest, long hair cascading around her nakedness, pink mouth caught open on a desperate moan.
Then, he pushed her forward, down, putting her chest against the mattress and guiding her ass up in the air. Her palms slid along my comforter, fingers curling into fists. He left her like that as he finished undressing himself, efficiently stripping the rest of his clothes off.
I didn’t want to stare at him—but I was. Every perfect line of muscle draping around his tall form. His taut stomach and his hard cock jutting out lewdly, his balls hanging heavy below.
God.
He knelt on the bed, mattress dipping, fingers circling his base, then slowly pushed himself into Dakota’s waiting pussy. Her expression as Micah buried his cock deep was making me feral. She was different with him than she was with me.
“Fuck, Masters,” he hissed. “You feel so fucking good.”
The thought of just how good her cunt would feel wrapped around me instead had my cock jerking in my boxers.
Micah started to fuck her more thoroughly, his gaze set on the place where he penetrated her, his hands gripping her hips.
“Micah,” Dakota moaned.
Everything in my body lurched.
The jealousy wasn’t a twinge. It was a lethal tidal wave, tearing through my blood.
I lifted my hips off the seat, adjusting, and the slightest friction of my boxers on my erection was making me feel even more insane. I did it again, barely thrusting, breath catching at the feeling of cotton rubbing on my rigid shaft.
“Yeah,” Micah grunted, pounding into her harder.
He hadn’t looked at me once since tying me up.
I was merely here to watch my past obsession fuck my current one.
My cock throbbed harder, hotter. Gave a pathetic jolt.
Micah rolled over onto his back, fluidly lifting her up to straddle him.
“Show him how you ride it,” he instructed.
I wasn’t breathing correctly.