Page 36 of Bruised

As soon as it’s over, my knees buckle, and Mason has to keep me upright with his arm around my waist. In that position, he lowers his head to my neck and sucks my skin into his mouth. Wait… too high…

“Lower,” I whine.

“Hm?”

“Lower. Oliver will see.”

“Oh.” He does as I say, dropping his mouth to the space between my neck and shoulder so my shirt can safely cover up the hickey tomorrow.

He sucks hard, to the point of pain, coaxing blood to the surface of my skin. His teeth sink into me, biting an aching mark over the hickey. I breathe through the pain, whining softly. It feels so good.

“There.” He pulls back. “Think this can tide you over until tomorrow night?”

Tide me over… Words are hard. Their meaning is lost on me, but I nod regardless, eyes half-lidded, and Mason chuckles as he guides me off his bed and helps me put my clothes back on. Underwear first. I lift my legs into them one by one, and Mason pulls them up to my waist. My shirt is next. He tugs it down over my head, smirking at my messy hair. He flattens it with his palm, and for a split second, it feels like he’s petting me. Then his hand is gone, and he sends me on my way.

I have my hand on the handle, and I’m just about to turn it when he speaks.

“Hey, um, how old are you, by the way?”

I turn around, a little confused, my brain slow and dreamy after my recent orgasm.

Mason frowns, and he shifts his gaze. “I mean, I know you’re over eighteen. I was just wondering if you’re the same age as Oliver.”

I nod. “I’m nineteen, yeah.”

“But you just got out of high school?”

“Yeah, I repeated a year, like Oliver.”

“Why?”

“My dad worked as a contractor for a while. We moved around a lot, so I missed a bunch of classes.”

“Well, that sucks.”

I shrug. “It’s okay. If I hadn’t repeated a year, Oliver and I wouldn’t be as close as we are.”

“Why?”

I don’t think he’s ever asked me this many questions unrelated to sex before. I frown a bit, but I answer carefully, “We talked about it a lot. Bonded over it, I guess. Troubled kids and all that.” I give a laugh, a little embarrassed to be sharing so much about myself when we haven’t really had a real conversation—at least not one that wasn’t dripping with sexual undertones.

Mason shrugs, and his expression reverts to his usual controlled self. “Okay. Well. Good night, then, puppy.”

“Good night.”

I close his door behind me, and then I stand still for a while, unable to identify the emotions swirling within me. Maybe I should’ve asked him stuff about his life too, but I can’t help but think he’d shut me down, or at the very least firmly steer the topic toward sex.

Shaking my head, I go to the bathroom to clean up. I’m too tired to reach any helpful conclusions; I need some sleep. It was probably a one-off, anyway. It’s not like he wants to get to know me. And I don’t want to get to know him, because this doesn’t mean anything. I said so myself; I can’t just backtrack all of a sudden. And, um, even if I did want more, even if I wanted it to mean something, it’s not like there can ever be anything between us other than sex… right?

I frown as I wipe myself down and return to Oliver’s room, my head spinning with thoughts I never expected to have. Some of them feel scary, full of unwanted consequences, but some feel warm, like a hug. Like the way Mason looked at me with that softness in his eyes, just for a few moments. What if he’d look at me like that again? Would I want him to?

Yeah… Yeah, I think I would.

Even giving myself permission to think about such a thing feels wrong, and yet… It feels good, too, as tends to be the case with Mason and me. Excitement and dread, degradation and praise, and that strange, warm feeling that lingers in my chest all the way into sleep.

14. TWO

I’m bruised. Two purple splotches mark my skin—one under my choker and one further down, beneath the collar of my shirt. The fresh one is lighter, still red, while the older one is a deep purple, impossible to miss if I didn’t hide it with the choker.