Falling for the Fling

by Lili Valente

  “God, Mason.” Her breath shudders out as she drives shaking fingers through my hair. “That feels… I can’t even describe it.”

  I suck with a gentle pressure, teasing her with slow circles of my tongue until she whimpers and her fingers fist close to my scalp.

  “Please,” she begs. “Please, Mason.”

  “I’m not finished yet,” I say, ignoring the throbbing, bruised sensation between my legs. I want her so badly it’s painful, but I don’t want to rush. I want to take my time, make her as crazy as she makes me. I want her to come so hard the force of her orgasm banishes the memory of any man but me.

  I might not be her first, but I’m going to be her last.

  And I’m going to make sure tonight is a night neither of us will ever forget.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Lark

  I’m on fire, burning up from the inside out. There is no relief, only flames that build higher and higher as Mason tortures me.

  Torture. It is torture.

  But wonderful, sweet, mind-blowing torture.

  My head falls back and my body arches into his mouth, forcing my breast into deeper connection with his lips, his tongue, his….teeth?

  Oh, God, yes.

  Yes, those are his teeth, raking over my nipple, sending an electric shock coursing through my body and the need building inside me spiraling even higher.

  “Mason, please,” I moan, legs shifting on either side of his hips, wishing and aching and dying for him, all of him.

  I’m so near the edge. I could probably come from rubbing against him through what little remains of our clothes, but I don’t want that. I want him inside me, want to feel that close, that connected to the man I love before I let go, surrendering to all the things he makes me feel.

  “God, Lark, I want you so much,” Mason murmurs against my skin as his palm smoothes down my stomach. His hand dips below the elastic of my panties, his fingers finding where I’m so hot, so wet, and pushing inside.

  I dig my nails into Mason’s back, moaning as he withdraws his fingers with the same aching slowness while his mouth continues to tease back and forth between my breasts and his thumb circles my clit, building the tension coiling inside of me to the breaking point.

  “Stop, not yet,” I pant, reaching down to grip Mason’s thick forearm, stilling the sinful rhythm of his fingers between my legs.

  He glances up, meeting my eyes with a hungry look that’s almost enough to tip me over the edge. “Now?” he asks, sounding as breathless as I feel.

  “Now,” I beg, nodding too fast, making the room spin. “Now, please. Now.”

  Mason claims my lips in another mind-numbing kiss as he makes quick work of his boxers and my panties. The satin is simply there one second and gone the next, and a moment later Mason is between my thighs, rolling on a condom.

  I stare, my mouth going dry and my heart skipping a beat.

  Or three.

  I’ve never seen Mason completely undressed, never seen that thickness I’ve touched hundreds of times through his clothes free to stretch all the way up his flat stomach. He’s bigger than I remember, or maybe just bigger than I’d realized back when we were kids fumbling around in the back of his truck, too nervous to take all our clothes off for fear of taking things too far, too fast.

  “You okay?” Mason’s thick arms flex as he finishes with the condom and gives my thighs a gentle squeeze.

  Lord, he’s gorgeous. Perfect. Even more stunning than I’ve imagined. I’ve pictured us like this more times than I can count, and now it’s finally going to happen. It’s enough to make me shiver as I nod and reach for him, pulling him down for another kiss.

  “Are you sure?” Mason asks against my lips as his fingers return to my breasts, rolling one nipple gently between his finger and thumb, sending a fresh wave of beautiful agony coursing through me.

  “Yes.” I spread my thighs and lift my hips, issuing an invitation I hope he can’t refuse. “I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

  He groans low in his throat, whispering my name as he reaches down to position himself. I feel the blunt head of him at my entrance and then, a second later, he pushes inside, filling every aching inch, stretching me, opening me in a way that almost hurts, but doesn’t because it feels so good.

  So. So. Good.

  “God, Lark.” Mason’s hands cup my bottom, shifting my hips, guiding me even closer, until he reaches the end of me, until he’s buried so deep it’s like we’re two halves of one whole.

  “You feel amazing,” he breathes into my neck. “I love you so much.”

  “I love you, too.” I run my hands down his back to dig my fingernails into his ass as he begins to move, thrusting in and out with a smooth, liquid rhythm that quickly brings me back to the brink.

  I lift my hips, grinding into Mason as he thrusts forward, squeezing my eyes shut as I get closer, closer, until my entire body hums and—

  “Look at me,” Mason breathes above me. “I want to see you.”

  My eyes open, meeting Mason’s, and that’s all it takes. I cry out, my body locking down around where he still thrusts inside me, waves of bliss shooting through my every nerve ending until pleasure burns and pulses and vibrates inside me.

  “You’re so beautiful,” Mason says, as his pace grows faster.

  Faster, faster, until he’s driving between my legs with a rhythm that makes me moan and wrap my legs tighter around his waist, pulling him deep as the exquisite tension in my core begins to build all over again.

  I come a second time, calling his name, and seconds later, he joins me, losing himself with a guttural cry that is primal and male and so thick with unrestrained joy it leaves no doubt in my mind that we’re in the same place.

  It’s a special place, a sacred one, a paradise we can only find in each other’s arms.

  Afterward, we stay locked together, neither of us wanting to move, to venture a single inch apart. But finally, Mason kisses the tip of my nose and reaches down between us.

  “I should take care of this,” he whispers, pulling away and moving into the bathroom.

  I lay spent on the bed, eyes glued to Mason as he leaves the room and returns less than a minute later. He turns the corner and freezes, smiling as his eyes meet mine. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were ogling me.”

  “Ogling is such a dirty word,” I drawl, feeling lazy and delicious and so satisfied that if I were a cat I know I’d be purring. “Admiring is better. I’m admiring.”

  Mason stands with his hands on his hips, obviously not a bit troubled by his own nakedness. “Let me know when you’re done,” he says, executing an end-of-runway turn that should be hysterical, but isn’t because he’s just that perfect.

  “I’ve never seen anything like you,” I say with a sigh. “I mean, I knew you were gorgeous, but I had no idea.” I motion with one boneless hand up and down, including all of Mason’s delectable body. “I’m not sure I’m worthy.”

  His smile fades. “You’re more than worthy. You’re amazing.” He crawls onto the bed to lie beside me, curling his arm around my waist and pulling me close. “You’re everything I’ve ever wanted, more than I deserve, and that was the best damned sex in the history of sex.”

  I curl into him with a happy giggle. “I think maybe it was.”

  “So we should stick with each other from here on out,” he says, kissing my forehead. “It just makes sense, you know? When you’re this kick-ass together?”

  I look up at him, meeting his hopeful gaze. Suddenly, the jolt of fear I felt when he talked about buying me a rock for my ring finger seems ridiculous. Newly rediscovered, unexpected, or not, what we have is the real thing, the realest thing I’ve ever felt—in bed or out of it—and I’m not about to pretend I don’t want this to be for keeps.

  “It is the only thing that makes sense.” I shift in his arms until we’re face to face. “You’re mine. I call dibs.”

  Mason’s expression softens, and I know h
e understands what I mean. “Same. Dibs on every part. I want it all with you, woman. Forever, babies, matching rocking chairs on the front porch when we’re old.”

  “Speaking of getting old,” I say with a smile. “I’m not getting any younger. If we’re going to have a small herd of children, we should probably get started pretty soon.”

  Mason lets out a long breath. “I’m so happy to hear you say that.” He hugs me closer, arms shaking the slightest bit, making it clear this moment means as much to him as it does to me. “I can’t wait to start a family with you.”

  “Me either,” I say, fighting the urge to tear up, and losing. I sniff and Mason glances down.

  “Hey, don’t cry.” He cups my cheek in his warm hand. “You’re going to make me cry, and I’ll lose all the manly points I gained by making you come twice.”

  I arch a brow. “Manly points?”

  “Yes, manly points. One for each orgasm,” he says, squeezing my hip in a way that is both comforting and arousing at the same time. “I’m collecting them. I’m aiming for five by the end of the night.”

  “Five?” My skin begins to tingle all over again at the thought. “That’s a lofty goal.”

  “What can I say? I’m a lofty guy.” His hand wanders lower, coming to cup my breast. “Who is really, really into your body.”

  I sigh, but twist away before Mason can take things any further. I roll over and slip off the bed, heading for my purse.

  “Where are you going?” Mason asks, sounding so bereft I can’t help but laugh.

  “I’m going to call Aria and let her know I won’t be home tonight,” I say, rummaging through my purse. “I don’t want her or Melody to worry.”

  “I thought you told them you might be staying at your apartment tonight.”

  I peek over my shoulder, blushing when I see Mason sprawled at the end of the bed, staring at my bare bottom with a rapt expression. “Were you eavesdropping?”

  Mason grins, but doesn’t shift his gaze. “I couldn’t help overhearing while I was lingering close enough to the door to overhear.”

  I laugh. “Quit looking at my butt, you’re distracting me.”

  “No,” Mason says, eyes remaining exactly where they are. “I’ve never seen this view before. I’m memorizing it.”

  I sigh and turn back to my purse, finally emptying it out onto the desk.

  There’s still no sign of my phone.

  “I must have left it in the cup holder in the car,” I say.

  “Do you want me to run down and get it?” Mason asks. “I could throw my clothes on and be down and back in a few.”

  I turn to him, arms crossed beneath my bare breasts, feeling much less self-conscious in front of him than I assumed I’d be. “Clothes back on,” I echo, with a pout. “That doesn’t sound like very much fun.”

  Mason grins. “No, I don’t think so either, but I’m trying to be nice.”

  “You are nice. But you’re nicest when you’re naked and willing.”

  Mason’s grin turns into a delighted smile. “When it comes to you, I’m always willing.” He lies back on the pillows with his arms crossed behind his head, the stirring between his legs supporting his claim.

  “Good.” I pad toward him on tiptoe, appreciating his beautiful naked self. “Because this time I think I’d like to be on top.”

  Mason’s eyes grow hooded. “I think that sounds like a wonderful idea.”

  And it is. And later, as we lay exhausted in bed, still twined together, breathing in perfect sync, I let myself imagine waking up this way every morning. I hold the dream close as I drift off to sleep in Mason’s arms, promising myself that if he doesn’t pop the question in the next few weeks, then I’ll do it myself.

  I’ve waited long enough for this kind of happiness.

  I’m ready to get started on ever after with the man I love.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Lark

  Date Six

  The moment I check my text messages, I know something is wrong.

  I know something is really wrong when I call Aria on the way out of the city, and my sister refuses to tell me what’s happening over the phone.

  “Just come home,” Aria says. “We can talk about it when you get here.”

  “But I won’t be home for at least an hour. We spent the night in Atlanta,” I say, my heart racing with worry. “I’m going to drive myself crazy by then. Are Mom and Dad okay?”

  “Mom and Dad are fine.”

  “What about the baby? And Melody? Are they—”

  “Everyone’s okay. Or at least no one is hurt. It’s…something else.” She lowers her voice. “Something I think we’re better off discussing in person. Without Mason around.”

  I pause, a burning sensation flooding through my chest. “Why without Mason?” I ask, not caring if he hears. “Mason and I are together now, Aria. Anything you can say to me, you can say to him.”

  Aria sighs, a long, sad sigh that does nothing to calm my nerves. “Just come home, okay? I’ll be waiting when you get here. Melody took Felicity out to Brian’s place to feed the ducks and pet the horses, so we should have the house to ourselves.”

  “All right.” I hang up without saying goodbye, too frustrated for good phone manners.

  “What was that about?” Mason asks as he pulls onto the highway, aiming us back toward Bliss River.

  I shake my head. “I don’t know. Aria said she has bad news, but she won’t tell me what it is over the phone.”

  “Or with me around,” Mason adds, clearly having overheard.

  I reach out and take his free hand in mine. “You heard what I had to say about that. It’s you and me, and she’s going to have to get used to it.”

  Mason gives my fingers a light squeeze. “Don’t worry. Whatever it is, I’ll help. We’ll get through it.”

  Together, doesn’t need to be said aloud. I can feel it in the air between us, a fact of life as undeniable as the truth that everything tastes better with bacon.

  From the second I opened my eyes to find Mason watching me sleep with a smile on his face, I felt the change in our relationship. There is no more doubt, no more fear, only a deep gratitude and a feeling of…lightness. Our love is lifting us up and carrying us along, making every step, every breath, easier than it was before.

  We are truly Mason and Lark again, but even more deeply connected than we were before. Now, we know exactly what a precious thing we have to lose, and we’re both determined to hold tighter, love harder, and protect our future together at all costs.

  I’m sure of it.

  I remain sure all the way home to Bliss River and up the walk to my parents’ house. I hold tight to Mason’s hand as Aria leads us to the picnic table behind the house where a blue folder is waiting atop the freshly stained wood.

  It’s a harmless looking thing, that folder, but my pulse races anyway. Aria hasn’t been in the best mood lately, but she’s not the kind to create drama where there isn’t any. If she thinks I’m going to be upset about the contents of the folder, then she’s probably right.

  “Since you wanted to look at it with Mason, I brought it out here,” Aria says, motioning to the folder, refusing to meet my gaze. She hasn’t looked up from the ground since she met me at the door. “I’ll go inside and give you two some privacy.”

  “Aria, can’t you just tell me what’s going on?” I ask, not wanting my sister to leave for some strange reason. I was angry with her on the way home, but now I want as many people who love me around as possible.

  Aria pauses by the back door, casting a sad glance over her shoulder. “I think it’s better that you and Mason do this alone.”

  And then she’s gone and there’s nothing left to do but cross to the picnic table and pick up the folder. So I do, my hands shaking as I flip it open and pull out a bunch of papers stapled together at the upper left hand corner.

  “What is it?” Mason asks from across the table.

  I shake my head as I skim the first p
age of the document. “I don’t know. It looks like a contract.” I flip another page. “A rental agreement or something.”

  “What?” Mason asks, sounding as confused as I feel. “A rental agreement for what?”

  “I don’t…” I reach the last page and my words trail away.

  It’s a rental agreement for an apartment in New York City. Signed by five men, one of whom is Mason Stewart. I recognize his crooked, scrawled signature immediately.

  For a second, I think the document is something he signed recently, and my stomach hardens into a knot around the egg and cheese sandwich I ate on the way home. But then I look at the date next to Mason’s name, and my muscles relax with a spasm of relief.

  It’s an old agreement, dated August tenth, four years ago.

  August tenth…

  My stomach clenches all over again.

  Mason proposed to me on August fifteenth. Five days after he signed an agreement to live with four other boys in New York City. Five days after he decided to leave me and maybe never come back.

  “What is it?” Mason asks, suddenly at my side though I don’t remember him circling around the table. “What’s wrong?”

  I push the folder and rental agreement clumsily into his hands and move away, stumbling a few feet across the patio. Mason follows me, but I lift one hand, motioning for him to stay back, feeling like I might shatter if he touches me.

  “Lark, what’s going on?” Mason asks in a deep, concerned voice. “You’re scaring me.”

  “Look at it,” I whisper, fighting to speak past the misery tightening my chest.

  Mason sighs in frustration, but he finally looks down at the papers in his hand, flipping to the back page, going still when he realizes what he’s holding.

  “How did Aria get this?” he asks, his tone oddly flat.

  “I don’t know,” I say after a moment. “Does it matter?”