“I hate you.” I shove him back. Not that he moves even an inch.
“That’s ok, princess.” He grins. “Hate me while you moanmy name.”
Before I can protest, he presses his lips to mine, trapping me in his burly arms.
It’s new. Unlike that night, this kiss isn’t a show. It’s an attack. Our lips aren’t moving. They are thrashing. He dives right in, sucking my mouth deep into his, his tongue battering mine. The familiar taste seeps into my veins and courses through my body as he floods my mouth, kissing me raw.
I push against his chest. He doesn’t move. I scratch at his neck. But that just makes him growl in my mouth. He doesn’t give me an inch. Not until I’m gasping for my last breath. Finally, his mouth peels from mine—cold air slapping my flushed face.
“Fine,” I exhale, placing a hand on his pecs, hyperventilating. “You saw me. You’ve embarrassed me. Stroked your ego. Got what you wanted? Now, leave.” I struggle in his ironclad grip.
He bursts into a laugh—a predatory, animalistic sound that makes my heart skip a beat.
“Not a chance, little dove.” His voice is a deadly whisper. “First, you are going to show me how much you want me by bouncing on my cock.”
My words die in my throat, muffled against his chest, when he lifts me with one arm around my waist and whirls me around.
11
EVA
Before I can wrapmy head around Mason’s crude words, he settles on my bed and leans against the velvet headboard, with me on his lap.
In that single moment, I forget how to breathe.
Wordlessly, I protest in his hold, too afraid to make a sound. Because, even with him so uncomfortably, dizzyingly close, I’m brutally aware of his weapon and the proximity of my friends, who remain oblivious and undefended, on the other side of that door. Not that he needs the gun. He could take care of the three of us, just using the strength with which he is pinning me to him.
Air strangles in my chest as I try to push him away, try to push myself off him, but I only manage to rub myself all over the hard bulge between his legs.
Slowly, my nightdress rises. The gravity between us feels ruinous, threatening to scorch my resolve. Heat pounds my core, throbbing between my legs as dread and desire dance a dangerously thin line.
He yanks open his belt and unzips his jeans, then kicks them off, all the while balancing me on his lap. Then hereaches into his boxers?—
“Mason,” I whisper-yell, shaking my head furiously. “No!”
“No?” He tilts his head to one side, imitating my headshake, a smile curling his lips like the wicked sadist he is. “Are you as sure as death and taxes?”
I glare at him, my heart thundering so loud, I’m surprised my ribs are still intact.
“Give me one good reason.” He tucks a loose strand behind my ear.
“You hate me!” I breathe out.
“So? You hate me, too. Hate sex is the best. Any other objections?”
“I don’t want it.” My voice is so weak, even I don’t believe it.
“That might be more convincing if you weren’t soaking wet and humping my cock as you lie through your teeth.”
A tumble of emotions rolls off me as I realize I’m not just accidentally rubbing myself on him; I’m unconsciously dry-humping him.
What the fuck is wrong with me? This is so… wrong.
I stop and try to jump off him, but he holds my waist in his death grip and pins me to him.
His bulge throbs and begins to rise against my humiliating wet panties, while his warm hand strokes my calf, dragging up my thighs, his touch sending sparks racing through my body.
“See, you have no good reason to stop me from plowing your little cunt with my cock,” he whispers as his hand slithers under my dress.
