“Stop it,” I insist with an embarrassed giggle whilst trying to retrieve the offending item from Mase’s hand that is now held aloft and is currently several feet out of my reach. “Give it me,” I cry, jumping to grab it.
“No chance. I told you it’s my Christmas card.” He laughs. “In fact, you should sign it and I’ll ensure you get the credit for it.”
“You are such an arse.” I laugh, resigned to him not returning it anytime soon, if ever.
“I know, baby, I have the proof here.” He laughs back, waving the board in front of me. “Oh, and that jumping thing isn’t ever going to help you get it back, it just makes your tits bounce which makes me want to ditch breakfast in favour of going back to bed.”
“Drink your coffee,” I mumble, avoiding any reference to my tits or going back to bed.
“Mmm. Seriously though, I like your ideas, shame they’re all the office. I would still like you to redo my bedroom, blank canvas.”
“I’d like to, but I really don’t know if it will fit in with Sean—”
“Fuck Sean,” Mase snaps angrily. “Not literally, unless that ship has sailed, Liv.” His words are an annoyed accusation, as is his use of Liv.
“What?” I can’t quite believe his inference. Then, equally as pissed off as him, snap back, “Who the fuck do you think you are? How dare you speak to me that way! You still think I am some slapper who picks blokes up and shags them without knowing their names, don’t you?” I shake my head, instantly hating the repetition of my mistake, proving him right.
“No, sorry.” Mase reaches for me, holding me firmly in front of him, one wrist in each of his hands. “I’m sorry. I just don’t like his familiarity with you and I don’t think you’re a slapper, never did, not really if I’m honest with us both and his use of Liv grates on me every time I hear it, like it’s some secret you and he share.”
I am still cross with him and yet I can see his words are genuine and the idea of him being jealous makes me—well I’m not sure what it makes me feel, but I think I like it.
“Sean and I went out on a handful of dates and realised we were no more than friends when he wanted to move things on and I really, really didn’t and a few people call me Liv, you called me Livy last night,” I point out as Mase’s grip loosens on my wrists.
“I’m glad you didn’t want him.” Mase pouts, making me laugh at his face. “And I know I called you Livy. Just before I came in your mouth,” he says, as if I might have forgotten.
“Mmm, I remember.” I reach up to cup his face. “I liked it.”
“The name or the coming in your mouth?”
“Both,” I admit a split second before Mase’s mouth is crashing against mine. “I love how you kiss me,” I tell him breathlessly.
“We’ll have breakfast later.” He lifts me onto the only space on the kitchen table.
“I need a shower,” I protest weakly as Mase’s t-shirt is being pulled from my body.
“After. Fuck first and then we’ll shower and fuck again, then shower again, then breakfast and then I might just fuck you again,” he tells me darkly as he pulls me to the edge of the table by my hips.
My protest, if that’s what it was, is forgotten as I spread my legs for Mase to step into and then they’re wrapping around his hips. All thoughts of showers, breakfast and anything that isn’t this forgotten.
“That’s it,” he encourages reaching between us to gently probe me with a single finger that I immediately begin to ride. “We may forget about showers and food if you keep this up.”
“Please, more,” I plead while running my hands over his bristly jawline and am rewarded with a second finger joining the first. “Yes, like that,” I tell him, reaching for the waist of his boxers to release his straining erection that I grip firmly before skimming my thumb around the slick crown.
“I’m gonna make you come for me, baby.” His thumb circles my clit for the first time.
“Fuck me, please,” I cry huskily as he leans down and draws one stiff nipple into his mouth that is hollowing as he sucks me firmly. “Mase, I need you inside me.”
“Oh Livy, those might just be the best words I have ever heard.” He steps out of his boxers, pulling himself free of me to lift me from the table. “Turn around,” he orders, and I comply immediately which is unusual for me. This is a huge trust issue for me, rear entry. I usually insist on facing a lover as he enters me, so I know what he’s doing and yet I already trust Mase.
I am on very shaky ground, emotionally at least, if I am giving him my trust in this so soon, but it’s more than that. The fact that I trust him scares me more than the vulnerability of my current position.
“Lie down, put your chest onto the table.”
I continue to question why I am quite so trusting so soon but lower myself into the required position and wait to feel Mason move closer but as soon as he does I hear him curse under his breath and immediately attempt to stand up.
“No, no, stay there. I just need to grab a condom.” He’s already leaving me, displayed as what can only be described as a lewd invitation.
While Mase is gone I return to my earlier thoughts about my defenceless position and again try to think of an answer to why it seems so acceptable to allow this man to do this to me. I think of Brad who I dated for almost two years on and off. We got together a few weeks before I went to work for Peterson Michaels and were seeing each other for almost three months before we actually had sex and it was probably after we’d been together a year or more that I allowed him to be out of sight when we had sex which reaffirms the issues and baggage I still carry around. Thank fuck for counselling.
