“Fuck, pl-lease.”
“Who do you belong to?”
“Mason…” I groan. “St?—”
“That’s right.” He grins as he pounds into me. “Me. And just in case your memory fails you again, here’s a reminder.”
His mouth wraps around my neck, sucking on my soft skin, as he drives into me even faster, making my toes curl, and stars appear behind my lids. My body slackens in his hold, his name spilling out my lips again and again as he brings me to my peak.
It’s like he knows every inch of my body and is playing me like a fiddle.
“Come, little dove,”he breathes against my neck. “Come for your king.”
And I do.
I fall apart, screaming his name, just like he commands.
My body quivers against him, while he holds me, then withdraws his fingers, covered in my arousal, and slides them into his mouth. I look away, hiding my face in the crook of his neck.
Then his passionate hands ghost all over the front of my body: One brushing up my chest, my neck, then gripping my hair, the other squeezing my breast, then caressing down my waist and grabbing me between the legs.
“Mine!” he grunts. “My fucking property.”
Twin headlights blink with the snap of the keys, like judgmental eyes flaring into the night, spraying us with harsh beams in the dark parking lot of 99. With his hand on my lower back, Mason escorts me to a Range Rover parked in a VIP spot. His shoulders square as if he were ready to go to war, while his eyes flash across the space, searching.
What’s he looking for? Could that be the cause of the wound on his head? I only noticed it when we stepped into the light, but it looks deep.
I hold the clutch against my dress. I did manage to scrub the ink in the ladies room afterward, splashing water on it until the words bled. Now there is a big blotch of black at my front, large enough that you can’t read the words from a distance. Still, I hide it the best I can as he leads me to the car.
Having spent the last hour being unraveled by Mason, I really don’t want to be in a closed box with him for the next twenty minutes. His proximity is unbearable.
“I can take an Uber,” I offer, deliberately making my voice polite.
“So I have to go barging into every abandoned farm until I find you tied to a pole somewhere? No, thanks. Get in the car.”
“I made it here just fine,” I argue.
“Congratulations, you found one person at Fort who didn’t recognize you.” He opens the passenger door. “Now, get in, or I will put you in the boot.”
My teeth clench, but I don’t fight him. He holds all my vulnerabilities in his fist, and I’ve got nothing. Either I pick my battles, or he’ll undo me completely. I exhale hard and sink into the black leather seat.
A sharp bite of cheap, stale beer mixed with bitter florals hits my nose. But the scent isn’t the worst part. There are some fluffy pink handcuffs and a long string of condoms under the windscreen, which look like they were recently used.
“Fucking Pike,” Mason groans, opening the windows, letting the cool autumn air flush out the pungent smell. Sweeping his arm, he gathers the unsavory items in front of me and chucks them on the back seat.
“This is Hugo Pike’s car?” I ask,slightlyrelieved. I didn’t recognize it in the dark.
“Yeah.” Mason makes a sick face and turns the key. “Why?”
“He gave you his car? Didn’t you just punch him in the face?”
“What’s your point?” he asks with knitted brows.
That you are both psychos?
“Nothing.” I shrug and look away.
We drive in silence as I stare out the window, trying to focus on the full moon and fervently ignoring my company. But any attempts to spurn his presence shred with each movement he makes.
