Chapter 43
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
Jennifer—A few years later . . .
The soft fabric of our sheet rubs against my cheek with each thrust from behind. All the sensations—the cotton, his hard body, his thick cock—mix together to create a delicious feeling of ecstasy.
My mouth parts in a silent scream as he shoves himself deep inside.
Mase has me pinned to our bed on my stomach, my arms pinned behind my back.
His hold on me is unyielding, yet not in the least bit scary or painful.
My trust in him is infinite.
It took us a little while to get to this point, but once we reached it, our appetite to try different things grew.
“Fuck, yes. So good.” Mase’s harsh breaths fill the space between each word while his hips punctuate them.
I moan out a pleasure-filled sound, repeating his name over and over.
Releasing my arms, he positions them above my head, collapsing over me so I’m now trapped beneath his solid form. His fingers slither down to grip my neck, fingertips pressed against the thrumming pulse on either side.
I twist my head further, trying to reach his lips, and since he’s not one to leave me wanting, he immediately presses his mouth to mine in a searing, hungry kiss.
Tongue slipping in, he tangles it with mine, our breaths and moans mixing together.
His taste is intoxicating, the feel of him addicting.
I can feel his thumping heartbeat against my back, our slick skin sliding over one another.
He’s already made me come three times, but I feel the telltale signs of another orgasm coiling low in my belly.
“You’re squeezing me so fucking tightly,” he breathes, then releases my neck to slide his hand beneath me, going directly to my clit. “Do you need to come again?”
I let out a whimper and squirm beneath him the moment he begins working me with his talented fingers—talented fingers that have only ever touched me this way.
Within seconds, I’m crying out, my body bowing as much as it can under his weight. Pure bliss stretches and multiplies, following the path of my veins to reach every part of my body.
Only when I’ve quietened down does Mase pull out and flip me onto my back, his hands running over my body like he just can’t touch me enough.
After spending so many years keeping his hands to himself—unless it was for his job—he makes sure to caress me at every opportunity.
Even if we’re just relaxing on the couch, he has to have his hands on some part of me. His touch is usually comforting, soothing.
But right now? His touch is setting my body on fire, each glide of his hands making my skin sizzle with need.
Leaning back on his haunches, he grips his thick cock, stroking it slowly while looking me up and down. It’s at these in-between times that he takes the opportunity to calm down and pull himself together so he can last longer.
Watching his tattooed forearm flex and shift as he strokes himself is almost hypnotizing, but I need more.
I sink my teeth into my lower lip while lifting my knees and dropping them open to give him the perfect view.
His nostrils flare as I walk my fingers over my stomach toward my pussy, making me smile.
“See something you like?”
His rumbling groan practically vibrates the entire bed. “I’ve never seen anything more fucking beautiful.”
Finally, having been teased enough, Mase angles his body to line himself up and push inside me again, his eyes briefly falling shut while I exhale a breath.
Beads of sweat dot his forehead, causing some dark strands to stick to his skin.
“Jesus, it’s a fight not to come the second I’m inside you. Every. Single. Time.”
With a tight grip on my waist, he starts pumping his hips, the delicious feel of his cock stroking against my walls threatening to pull another orgasm out of me.
“Oh, god.” I reach down to touch myself, watching his eyes darken as they follow the movement.
“Yes,” he hisses, clenching his teeth. “One more before I empty inside you.”
I move my fingers faster, urged on by his words and the feral look on his face. That look always sends a thrill through my body, making me feel powerful.
Gaze glued to my frantic rubbing, his hips pound harder, deeper.
I can tell he’s only seconds away from losing complete control, and thankfully, so am I.
All it takes is a few more thrusts, along with my fingers, and I’m falling over the edge once again.
My orgasm triggers Mase’s, and he releases his hold on my waist to plant his hands beside my head, his tempo erratic. I feel him thicken inside me, and tighten my walls in response, prolonging my own release.
“Jesus.” His eyes squeeze shut, hips going wild.
With a loud cry, he lets go, bursting inside me with shuddering relief, his warm release filling me with each twitch of his cock.
As if the strength was drained from his body, he collapses on top of me, dropping his mouth for a languid kiss, tongue lazily dragging against my own.
When he pulls back, breaths still coming fast, his eyes are hooded but satiated, a soft smile curving his very kissable lips.
“You said we were going to be quick,” I chide with a soft laugh. “We’re supposed to be at the center in”—I check the time on the nightstand—“an hour, and we still have to stop for more coffee creamer and snacks for the group therapy session. Oh, and bottles of water for your classes.”
It took a bit of planning, but we finally ended up opening The Sanctuary a little over a year ago. It’s exactly what Mase had envisioned: offering more than just classes, it’s a haven for women who are struggling after abuse, a place for them to heal. A sanctuary.
And I think we’ve both found it healing for us, as well.
Self-defense classes are held four times a week with Mase as the instructor, a group therapy session twice a week that I sit in on, pet therapy, which involves our adopted golden shepherd, and volunteers who come in and teach certain crafts or activities.
There is also someone who comes in and gives free legal advice once a month.
Mase no longer feels like he’s a mistake, like he needs to make up for his existence, but he’s still more than generous and giving with his time.
He shrugs unapologetically, his smile remaining. “You know I get carried away when it comes to you.”
My chest floods with love and affection for him. “I love you.”
“Mmm.” He hums, looking content to stay put. “And I love hearing that.”
I can’t resist the pull to feel his lips again, just a small peck, before I half-heartedly push on his chest. If I don’t get him moving, he’ll end up staying right where he is, buried deep inside me.
One time, we fell asleep like that, and I can’t say I didn’t like it. In fact, I liked it a lot.
I hum. “Fifty-five minutes now.”
Reluctantly, and with a sigh, he pulls out, dipping a kiss to the middle of my chest before maneuvering back and lightly slapping my thigh. “Come on, we need to leave right away. You better hurry up and get dressed.”
With an incredulous scoff, I watch as he scoots off the bed, then walks to the doorway, giving me a view of his delectable ass.
Forty minutes later, I’m pushing a cart full of items toward the checkout.
And while there is a smile on my face, there’s an ever-present feeling of incomplete deep within my soul. A nagging that never ceases.
I am happy with Mase. I love him so very much, and I love running the center with him.
But it’s in these quiet, mundane moments that the feeling surfaces, and I don’t think it will ever go away.
I know it’s just the guilt over what happened. Ever-present.
Despite what happened with Jacob afterward, I did him wrong, and I can’t shake it.
I join the checkout line, looking over my goodies and wondering if I’m forgetting anything. Mase is down the street picking up a few dozen fresh donuts. So we really should have enough of everything.
Leaning against the handle, I wait for the slow-moving line to shuffle ahead, listening as someone’s phone starts ringing behind me.
“Hey, Sunflower. You miss me already?”
I smile to myself at the clear adoration in the man’s voice when he answers the call.
“Yeah, I just made a quick pitstop to grab some snacks. I should be there early enough to talk to Campbell before the race starts.”
I briefly wonder what type of race he’s talking about, then shake my head because it really doesn’t matter to me.
It’s not like I’m trying to listen in; he’s just right behind me in line.
“I’m sure he’ll have to hang back for a bit, but there’s still plenty of time for us to get to the airport before the flight.”
I glance at the magazines on the display rack, absently tapping my fingers while looking over the front pages.
“I doubt Jacob will pick us up from the airport.”
My muscles make an involuntary twitch, my attention unwillingly zeroing in on the man’s conversation. It happens every time someone says that name, like it’s a trigger that draws my awareness.
He said Campbell, and now Jacob. There are over eight billion people in the world, and this person had to say those names.
Maybe it’s the universe’s way of reminding me of my sins because I’ve become too happy.
Like I’d ever forget.
“I don’t think anyone will even recognize him, but he’s still paranoid,” the man continues.
My brows dip. I wonder why this particular Jacob is concerned about being seen.
Are all Jacobs cursed to live their lives away from the public?
His conversation continues with him telling Sunflower how much he’ll miss her and how he wishes she was coming with him.
I try to focus my attention elsewhere to give him privacy, but it’s not as if I can leave, so I just keep tapping the handle. Tap, tap. Tap.
“Don’t be surprised if Remi and Jasmine end up flying out here to see you instead.”
My hand freezes.
Remi.
“. . . Jacob is in prison again for attempted sexual assault on another woman named Remi.”
The man said he’s going to a race with Campbell, then fly somewhere to see Jacob, and Remi . . .
My heart picks up speed, even though I know it’s all coincidence.
Of course it is.