I smiled, recalling vague memories from happier times. “Yeah, somewhat. I feel guilty that I can’t remember more sometimes. But I definitely recall her always being happy, at least around me. She was always smiling and being silly, trying to make me laugh all the time. One of the things I remember most was how she would dance to the radio whenever she cooked meals. I used to just sit there and watch her, amazed at how fun she always made life look.”
I could feel Mason’s eyes glued to me as he listened intently. “She sounds pretty great.”
I nodded. “I look back on it now and can’t imagine how she was able to be so carefree. We weren’t destitute, but we definitely weren’t rich either. And I know she had to have struggled with money, but she always had the best attitude, no matter what.”
“If that’s what you remember most about her,” Mason said, “then I’d say she did a hell of a good job as a mother.”
“Yeah, I think she did too.”
We went back to eating in silence for a few minutes before he started another conversation. “There’s something else I’ve been dying to ask you about, seeing as how we’ve established that I’m pretty direct and all.” My eyes left Larry the Lobster for a second to meet his. “The whole marriage thing.”
I chuckled and wiped off my fingers, leaning back in my chair. “Ah, yes. The infamous ‘ex’ conversation.”
“You don’t have to talk about it if you really don’t want to. But I’m going to want to know at some point.”
“No, it’s fine,” I replied. “It’s not some big, sordid story. We met while I was in college. He worked for my father’s trucking company and Frank introduced us. We dated for several months and then decided to get married.” I shrugged. “It lasted for about three years, and then we just sort of realized that things weren’t the way we once thought they were. It finally dawned on us that our personalities just didn’t mesh well enough. We divorced shortly after without any major issues, and he still works for my father’s company. He’s planning to eventually take it over whenever Frank retires.”
Mason’s eyebrows climbed up his forehead. “Wow. Is that awkward for you? Do you guys ever run into each other?”
I shook my head. “Not really. I’m not around the business much anymore. Not like I was before the divorce. We bumped into each other once a few years ago around Christmas at my parents’ house but that’s it. We don’t have a vendetta against each other like some divorced couples. It was just one of those ‘well, we gave it a good try and it didn’t work out so let’s move on’ type of things.”
He nodded, his eyes swimming with questions. “That’s good that you were able to end it on good terms. It’s a rare thing.”
“What about you?” I asked. “Any serious relationships in your past?”
“Not really, no. Never found a woman I wanted to devote that much effort to, I guess. Besides, for a while there I had to focus on myself and get my own shit together before I even thought about bringing someone else into the picture.”
“Yeah, that’s the one that stuck with me,” I said cautiously. “The rehab thing. If you’re comfortable sharing.”
He finished his last lobster and settled back in his chair. “It’s not the first thing I tell a woman, but I’m not ashamed to share the story. I started drinking when I was in junior high, then started smoking pot when I got to high school. Then, I got a job at a local body shop to help my family with the bills around the house. What I didn’t know at the time was that the guy who owned the shop was using it as a base of operations for his drug business.”
“Jesus,” I muttered to myself. “How old were you?”
“I started working there when I was seventeen and stayed for a couple of years after I graduated. I knew at the time that I should have quit, but I became friends with the guys there and the owner knew how badly my family needed the money. He’d spot me extra when I acted as his mule for some deals.
“I kept my hands off the merchandise for a while, but then things got even worse at home and I just couldn’t deal. I started going down a spiral until my brothers finally realized what was happening and stepped in, talked me into going to rehab. So, I did. Once I got out, I cut off all communication with the guys from the shop, lived with Dawson and his family for a little bit while I got my feet back on the ground. I opened the shop once I saved up enough money and now here I am.”
“That’s not an easy thing to do, turning it around like that,” I commented. “Especially to admit that you had a problem in the first place. Your brothers sound like stand-up guys.”
He narrowed his eyes as he stared down at the table, looking consumed by his thoughts. “They are. I’m lucky to have them. What really convinced me, though, was something they said. One thing that shot off alarm bells in my head.”
“Which was?”
His jaw hardened, his lips pursing before he responded. “That I was becoming our father. He’s been a drunk our entire lives, a real bastard. When they compared me to him, it was like I had finally woken up from a nightmare and could think clearly again. They couldn’t have said anything else to me back then that would have been as effective.”
I think he knocked off a chunk of my heart right then and slipped it into his pocket, with no intention of giving it back. Knowing what he had come from only made me further appreciate the life he’d made for himself. The person he had become.
I reached forward and laid my hand over his on the table. “Then, I’m glad they did.”
His eyes darted to mine as he slowly entwined his fingers through my own. “And why is that?”
“Because if they hadn’t, who knows if we would have ever met?”
Those olive eyes of his turned emerald and his fingers tightened around mine. “Are you finished?”
“With you? No. With my meal? Yes.”
His nostrils flared, my lower abdominal muscles tightening in excitement. “Good because I’m taking the rest of my meal to go,” he growled.
I glanced down at his plate, which was empty, and realized that the only thing he was taking to go…was me.
Oh.
##
The instant the front door of my house swung closed, Mason was on me. “We could have gone to your place,” I told him between heated kisses, “it’s probably a lot bigger than here.”
“Do you have a bed?” he asked, licking down my neck.
“Yes. A big one.”
“Then we won’t have any problems.” He grabbed my hand and brought it down to the hard package still enclosed by the denim he wore. “Touch me, Sage.”
A man like Mason who needed my touch that badly? No fucking problem.
I ripped his jeans down his legs and went to my knees, bringing my lips to his shaft. He stepped forward, pushing me back until my back was flat against the door. I leaned against the wood, grateful for the support as he planted his hands against it, right above my head. When I looked up through my lashes, I witnessed his dark form hovering over me, staring down at me sucking him. The dominant position he had and the look on his face looked both imposing and…dangerous.
I loved it. Loved the danger Mason exuded with his tattooed arms and brooding expressions. Even more, I loved the fact that he could back up every dirty word he uttered, every sensual promise he made. He had all the right tools and he knew exactly how to use them.
“You going to let me fuck that mouth, baby?” he asked as he pushed himself further into my mouth. I could only respond with a moan, making him pulse harder inside me. “You look so good like that, with your lips wrapped around me. Watching me slide in and out. Shit, Sage. I don’t want to come yet.”
He scooped me up, hauling me against his body as he shoved me against the door. Our bodies were so hungry, neither one of us could wait for a soft bed or even until we were both naked. Without pausing for breath, Mason was shoving aside my panties and entering me without a word, without thought.
In the silence, we didn’t wait for an invitation.
&
nbsp; In the darkness, we didn’t need a compass.
“You’re so tight, every time,” he grunted as he slammed inside me, rutting against my body like a dog in heat. Those carnal urges coursing through our bodies made everything we said sound nasty, everything we felt seem primal and necessary. “Christ. Your pussy is the best thing I’ve ever felt in my life.”
“I want you deeper,” I panted. The angle he had me in only allowed him to go so far. “I need to feel more.”
With a vicious growl, he yanked me away from the door and carried me over to the kitchen table where he pushed me down with a hand on my chest, laying me on my back across it. He pulled his shirt over his head, affording me the view of his chiseled, tattoo-covered abs that were barely visible in the dimly lit room. My panties came off, though I still wore my dress which seemed like too time-consuming a task for Mason in that moment. He began pounding me again, no longer controlling the volume of his voice.
“You want more of me, baby, you’re going to get every fucking inch.” I gripped the edge of the table as he hit the spot in me that flooded my body with heat and coated him in my arousal. “Oh, yes. Feel that? How your pussy’s sucking me in? She wants more of that.”
“Keep going,” I begged.
“There’s no way I’m going to fucking stop.”
Despite how unbelievable he felt, I still needed to ride that edge. The line between pleasure and pain needed to become blurry as I chased my release. I tightened my legs around his waist and put pressure on his ass, slowly digging the spike of my heel into his flesh.
“You need that too, don’t you?” he breathed. “You want it to hurt right before it feels so good you can’t think. Don’t you?”
Without waiting for an answer, he lifted me over his shoulder, ass in the air, and headed toward the living room. But not before grabbing a wooden spoon off the counter, making my heart pound in my chest with the question of what he was going to do with it. He placed me on my feet, bending me over the back of the couch, and roughly pulled down the zipper of my dress.
Once again, I found myself completely naked and at Mason’s disposal.
The first slap of the spoon on my ass sent a shock through my system, followed closely by sharp pleasure. The second slap I expected, though it made it no less thrilling.
“More, Mason. Just like that. More.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll give you more.”
With that, he shoved himself back inside me, increasing the tempo of his hips to a fast and furious pace. I could hardly catch my breath between the smacks with the wooden spoon, the rough fucking, and the way he was talking to me. And when he reached around and smacked my clit with that spoon—hard—it was all over for me and my control. I pushed back to meet his thrusts, needing the pressure to build, to feel it as hard as he could possibly give it to me.
“Ah, Sage. Goddammit, baby, yes. Fuck yourself on my cock. Get yourself off just like that.”
There was no thinking at that point. All I could do was give myself over to my orgasm and hope that I wasn’t totally ruined for life, although I suspected I already was. Mason was making it impossible for anyone else to ever live up to the pleasure he could deliver.
After he sprayed his seed all over my inner walls, he wrapped his arms around my waist, hugging me to him and mumbling, “So good. Never been so good.”
It felt right to allow him to carry me back to my bedroom and lay me down gently on the bed. It felt even better when he slid in next to me and covered both of us with the sheets. It even felt damn near perfect to drift off toward a deep slumber with his warm body pressed against mine, holding me close.
What tore me away from my bliss was whenever he woke me up in the middle of the night with gentle caresses and whispers of kisses along my naked skin.
I panicked.
Utter terror shot through me before I gave myself a chance to think.
“Stop!” I tore his hand away from me, quickly scooting to the edge of the mattress, fighting off my body’s urge to hyperventilate.
Deep down, I knew it was Mason. I knew he would never hurt me. But when I arose from unconsciousness and felt a man’s presence next to me, his rough hands touching my most sensitive areas, I was thrown back into a shark-infested tank of memories. Ones I hadn’t revisited in a long time. Ones that I took careful precautions to avoid at all costs.
“Sage?” Mason said, his voice wary, concerned. “Hey, Sage. What’s wrong? It’s just me, baby.”
I kept my face buried in my hands while I slowed my breathing, telling myself that I wasn’t back there. I wasn’t with him. Mason wasn’t him. He reached over and carefully placed his hand on my shoulder but quickly removed it when I flinched.
“What is it?” he asked. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. Tell me what’s going on.”
I wasn’t ready to go there with him, especially not when my nerves were completely shot. That was something I never talked about with anyone, my biggest kept secret. Although to my family, it wasn’t a secret at all. They all knew. Not the gory details, but they knew it had fucked me up. Still did.
But I wasn’t ready to expose Mason to the darkest side of me. Not yet.
“Sorry,” I muttered. “I was having a bad dream and when I woke up, you were just there. I didn’t mean to wig out on you.”
He was silent for several moments. “It’s okay,” he said softly. “You have bad dreams like that a lot?”
I had lived those bad dreams for too damn long.
“Sometimes. I haven’t actually slept next to someone in a while, so maybe that’s what spurred this one on.” I finally turned back to him and slid over to his side of the bed. “Everything’s fine. Let’s go back to sleep.”
He put his arms around me, his touch tender, which I silently thanked him for. I just needed to feel him right then, allow his quiet strength to hold me up and reinvigorate my own courage. It seemed like Mason understood this since he held me in silence, rubbing small circles on my back as his steady breathing soothed me.
That was, until he started to leave a trail of hot kisses down my neck. “Let me make you feel better,” he breathed in my ear.
I felt him hardening against me, dousing me in my own arousal almost instantly. “Mmm. Yes, I think your particular brand of healing powers would make me feel a lot better right now.”
He chuckled darkly as his hand slid down my shoulder, to my torso, until it reached my thigh. But instead of willingly spreading myself for him when he started to gently pull my thighs apart, I froze in place, my mind briefly forgetting where I was and who I was with. The memories of my past were still too fresh in my mind after waking up the way I had to appreciate that it was almost twenty years later and that I was with Mason. Not him.
“Relax, baby,” he whispered. “I’ll give it to you nice and sweet. Make it feel so good.”
I was ashamed to admit that my stomach lurched at those words. I knew, knew, it was Mason’s voice. But the words themselves were too reminiscent of the many nights in my bedroom, all those years ago.
Before I let him take it any farther, I wriggled out from underneath him and threw myself over his body, straddling his legs. I grinned down at him, hoping the façade was strong enough to make him forget my behavior from seconds before.
“How about I make you feel good?” I asked, inching myself down his hard body.
“But I wanted to—” His words ended in a sharp curse as I grabbed his cock by the base and took him to the back of my throat. “Shit,” he hissed through his teeth. “Sage. I wanted it to be your turn.”
To shut him up, I roughly sucked his tip into my mouth, over and over again until his hips were arching up to me. “Ah, fuck. Oh, yeah. Swallow me down, baby. Use that hot little mouth to suck my come out of me. Christ, that feels amazing.”
The best way to distract a man from something—anything—was by giving him a blow job. That was a fact of life, a universal truth. Or hell, just plain common sense. And my plan was defini
tely working. If I could distract Mason from discussing why I didn’t want him to make nice and sweet love to me, we could continue doing what we had been doing without issue.
Rough, dirty sex. Nasty fucking. Not emotionless, just so intense that you didn’t have the opportunity to think.
I thought I’d been successful at it too. With a tight grasp of my hair, he exploded down my throat while cursing up at the ceiling. It took him several minutes to eventually catch his breath, something I was proud of. Satisfied with myself, I crawled back up his body, nestling myself against him as we both drifted off to sleep. Knowing that I would avoid another night of painful revelations, I was far more relaxed than I had been earlier as he draped his arm over me, pulling me tighter into him.
I assumed that with what just happened, Mason would have passed out almost immediately. But just before I let sleep pull me back under, I heard his calming voice above my ear. “You’re safe with me, Sage. No one’s going to hurt you.”
Mason didn’t know how wrong he was.
Because he was always there. In my dreams…waiting to hurt me all over again.
Chapter Eleven
Mason
“What do you think of this one?” Jamal asked as he handed me his notepad.
“The skulls are good,” I told him, taking the pencil out of his hand. “How about we add a few more flames here?” I drew the flames and shaded them in before handing it back to him. “He said he wants it to look more ‘Sons of Anarchy’ than ‘Wild Hogs.’ How’s that?”
He laughed and took it back. “I guess it’ll look badass enough for him.”
The client whose motorcycle we were fixing up was the weekend warrior type who wanted to start his own motorcycle club because none of the existing ones would take him. Whatever, though. I didn’t judge. As long as they could pay me, I would paint a pink unicorn on an Oldsmobile if they wanted me to.
Jamal had been very helpful with the designs for many of my latest projects. The kid had real promise and a clear desire to learn the business, all of which I knew Sage would be happy to hear.
The Art of Sage (Cruz Brothers #2) Page 12
