But I wasn’t scared of him, never that. If there was one thing I knew, it was that he would never hurt me. At least not physically. His insults stung, his actions too, but he would never lay a hand on me. Of that I was sure.
“I’m not running the other way.” I sighed, frustrated and tired. “But I won’t let you talk down to me when I don’t even know what your fucking problem with me is.”
“My fucking problem? I tell you what my fucking problem is,” he yelled. We were toe to toe, and I could feel his breath on my cheek and smell faint traces of his cologne.
I was standing in front of him, thinking if I should yell back or just walk away, when his lips were on mine and all the air left me.
My heart jolted and I melted into him. We were the perfect fit, his body curling around me, making me feel cherished. His kiss was soft, his touch gentle, his actions the opposite of his earlier fury.
He nipped and sucked and licked my lips until I opened eagerly. His tongue slipped inside and my whole body broke out in goosebumps. I felt like I couldn’t get enough, pulling him closer by his shirt, even though every part of me that could possibly touch his body already did.
He pulled away and I moaned in protest. The sound died on my lips as soon as his mouth touched my neck, kissing a path down to my breasts. Every touch set me on fire, every kiss stoking the flame. He pulled my sweatshirt up and cupped my breasts. Not wearing a bra came in handy right now.
How could his kisses turn me into such a brainless mess? If that was a preview of what he was capable of, I was a willing participant. Even if it was just for one night. For tonight, I just wanted him.
He groaned and pulled away, his eyes still fixated on my breasts. My nipples were rock hard under his hands. His eyes wandered down to my stomach, and his face went from looking dazed to predatory.
I put my hand to his chest, my brain functions somewhat returning and telling me that this might not be the best idea. But since I was never one to miss an opportunity, my damn hand started to wander. I brushed across his chest and down to his abs, loving the feel of the hard ridges under my palm.
“Stella,” Mason ground out.
My hand wandered even lower. “Mason,” I answered as I grazed over his belt buckle, and then I was finally at my destination. He was big all over, and the bulge in his pants grew when I brushed against it. Encouraged by his response, I cupped my hands around him and stroked. I guessed the saying about big feet and big hands was right.
One moment I was the one in control, and the next I found myself on my back, Mason braced above me, his lower body pushed against mine. I writhed and hooked my leg around him, needing him closer.
“Whatever you do, don’t stop,” I said, ready to tear off my clothes right then and there.
I was dosed up on painkillers and marshmallows. This was going to happen.
He pushed my T-shirt up and carefully got my good arm out. He then pulled it over my head and threaded my injured arm through.
I wasn’t wearing much and undressing me wouldn’t take much time. Score for lazy dressers like me. His eyes hungrily roamed my body, looking ready to devour me. I shivered at the idea, not opposed to it in the least.
We could go back to arguing with each other afterward. He kissed the top of one breast, then the other. I was in a Mason fog, unable—and unwilling—to tear myself away from him.
The chemistry was unlike anything I had ever felt before. My body responded to every one of his touches, no matter how small. My pants came off next, and as soon as they were gone I hooked my bare legs around him.
I was almost naked and he was still wearing all his clothes. I wanted to feel his skin on mine and mindlessly started tugging on his T-shirt, my attempts at undressing him were less successful than his.
When it became evident that it would take a small miracle to get his shirt off with one hand, he sat up and put his hand to the back and pulled it off in one swift move.
He came back down and his mouth found mine, his soft lips gentle, his tongue coaxing. I couldn’t get enough of kissing him, of feeling his skin under my hand, and opened to him eagerly.
His hand slipped under my panties, and I was moaning as soon as he made contact, unable to stop the sound from escaping. Our kisses became wetter and deeper, and I arched into him, wishing I had two hands to explore instead of just one. I wanted to touch him everywhere, wanted to take his pants off and then pull him closer.
When his finger slipped inside, I nearly came undone. That had never happened before. I was ready before he’d done much more than touch me.
Before I had a chance to process what was happening, his mouth was hot against the inside of my leg, blazing a hot trail up to my center. My underwear was gone soon after and I didn’t get a chance to think about the last time I had a Brazilian when he sucked my clit. The sensation was almost too much, and when he added a finger, I came harder than ever before, sure that I was seeing stars from nearly passing out.
That last part might also have something to do with me taking more than the prescribed amount of painkillers. When I came down, I was a boneless mess, unable to move or think. Mason was grinning up at me, looking very pleased with himself. He kissed his way up my body and leaned over me.
“Are you okay?” he asked, his finger trailing down my cheek. The gesture felt intimate and I didn’t know how to deal with it.
Sex I could handle. Him screwing with my emotions, not so much.
“I’m fine,” I said, my voice scratchy.
He looked at me a moment longer and then got my underwear and pulled them back on. He found my pants and sweatshirt and did the same. I was too confused to do anything but lie there. The only movement my body would allow was to blink my eyes. I was fully dressed in less than a minute.
