by Alisha Rai
A plan.
He smiled as the idea solidified in his mind. Yes. He needed a plan. All of his problems tended to happen when he went rushing into things, right? He’d come up with a step-by-step plan to win his woman back. If he did things right, he’d have her for keeps.
Almost giddy with relief, he started his car and pulled away from the curb. Just you wait, Dr. Khan. You aren’t going to know what hit you.
“Mason?”
Leyla walked into the darkened living room, stumbling over a toy on the ground. When they’d bought this house the week before their marriage, the three bedroom had seemed spacious enough. Less than ten months later, Ash had arrived, bringing a whole bunch of stuff with her. The stuffed duck gave a little jingle as she picked it up and tossed it into the playpen/aka Fisher-Price holding cell.
“Hmmm.”
She moved closer to the couch. “Dishes are done, leftovers put away.” Leyla happily took the kitchen cleanup duties, since it meant Mason handled the cooking. Cooking, her nemesis. “That was a wonderful dinner.”
“Thanks.”
“I feel better after having seen Sasha looking so good, don’t you?” It was like a massive weight had been lifted off her shoulders. From the minute she’d gotten that horrible phone call from Mason, she’d spent the last week worrying over her brother and his injury. Seeing Sasha walking and talking and being himself, even if that meant occasional acts of boneheadedness, relieved her.
Her husband took a swallow from the highball glass he held. “Yeah.”
She cocked her head. “Aren’t you coming to bed?”
“In a minute.”
Relief made her giddy and giddiness made her naughty. Leaning over the back of the couch, she touched her lips to his ear. “I could make it worth your while.”
It always gave her ego a little boost that she could still tempt her husband after two decades of friendship, three years of marriage, and one child. And he was most definitely tempted. She could tell by the slight tightening of his muscles, the inhale of breath.
Normally, he would have tumbled her down onto the sofa with him. Now, though, he remained seated. “I’ll finish my drink first.”
She considered the amber liquid in the glass. “What are you drinking?”
“Whiskey.”
Another oddity. Mason rarely had anything stronger than beer. “Since when do you drink whiskey?”
He considered the glass and then downed the whole thing. “Since I found it in the cupboard.”
“It’s probably from our Christmas party last year. You said it tastes like medicine.”
“It’s not bad. Maybe my tastes are maturing. I am thirty now.”
“And I’m thirty-four,” she said dryly. “Does that mean I need to start drinking hot toddies?”
Instead of laughing, he rested the glass on his knee and stared moodily out the window. “Maybe I’m having a mid-life crisis.”
She frowned. It wasn’t that Mason never sulked or brooded. It was just that it happened so rarely, and she usually had a pretty good inkling of when it would happen. He was sunny by nature, and his easygoing personality helped make their life together…well, easy.
He was under a ton of stress, though, Leyla realized with a pang of regret. As much as she had worried over her brother, he’d had to worry about Sasha in addition to the other patients. “Do you want to talk about anything, Mason?”
“No.”
“Are you sure?”
This time, he didn’t respond, only grunted. Leyla bit the inside of her cheek. Mason had a tough time concealing anything. It wouldn’t take long to get him to talk.
She straightened and smoothed her hands along his shoulders, beginning a slow massage of taut muscles. Her fingers slipped over the broad planes, the flesh tight and hot under her palms. Amusement vanished. His shoulders were rock hard. She hadn’t realized how tense he was until she laid her hands on him. Poor guy.
She concentrated on working the kinks out of his neck and back, stopping only when he reached behind him, grabbed her hand and drew her around the couch. She slipped easily into his lap, his arm loosely encircling her waist. No one told you about these little bonuses that came with being married. Like just being able to slide into someone’s embrace whenever you felt like it. It was so very nice.
He rested his forehead against hers. Their breaths mingled. She knew his scent better than her own. And she knew when he was upset sometimes even before he did. “What’s wrong?”
He shook his head, his hand slowly stroking up and down her back.
Yeah, he was about to crack. With the lightest of touches, she brushed a kiss near the corner of his mouth. “Something’s up. Tell me.” She kissed him again. “Please?”
His hands clenched at her waist. “It could have been you. Or Ash.”
The honest anguish in his voice startled her into tightening her arms around his neck. “What?”
He took a deep breath. “You remember when I was in med school you would tease me about how paranoid I was?”
Leyla remembered. It seemed like every time she talked to Mason back then, he was spouting some gloom and doom about a new illness or disease.
“I mean, it’s like, we get hit upside the head with all this knowledge about how fragile the human body is, all the horrible things that can go wrong with it. And then we practice and it all kind of becomes commonplace. You…you get used to it, used to people dying or getting sick. Or you just think, it can’t happen to you or the people you love.” He glanced up at her, his eyes unfocused. “Even when Ash was born. I know about all of the stuff that can go wrong with babies. But I held her and I was so damn certain none of it would happen to her. She wouldn’t have CP or die from SIDS or drown in a pool. Not our baby.”
He shuddered. “Those parents at the hospital. They’re all just sitting around and waiting. How many of them thought the same thing when they held their babies? In a few years, Ash is going to have to go to school. That could be her. Or you. That teacher, she was just at work. You’re in the lingerie store by yourself so much, what if someone comes in and opens fire?”
She didn’t realize she was crying until she tasted the saltiness of her tears. “Oh, Mason. Why didn’t you tell me you were struggling with all of this?” The horror of the shooting had touched her, but obviously not to the degree it had affected him. Her reality had revolved around her brother. Mason had witnessed every person who rolled through the hospital doors.
He sucked in a ragged breath. “When I heard the cop who got injured was Sasha…it was like my world got turned upside down, and I started thinking about all this stuff. You and Sasha and Ash…I don’t have any family but the three of you. If he can be hurt, that means you and the baby… God. I think I’d die, Leyla.”
Her heart clenched. “Don’t say things like that. Listen to me. Look at me, Mason.”
He used the trick she’d been on to since he was about thirteen and trying to avoid her gaze, looking just over her left shoulder. She grasped his chin in her hand and made him look directly at her. “Sure, bad things happen. I worry every time you have a night call and you drive to and from the hospital because you’re tired. I worry that somehow Ash will figure out how to get past the cabinet locks and into the Drano. I worry a million times over about the fact that Sasha carries a gun while at work.” She made a face. “Though maybe that worked out for him this time. The point is, I will never stop worrying about any of you. You’re all the family I have too. But just because something bad could happen, doesn’t mean we can all bury ourselves in our home and never come out again. It just means we have to enjoy the time we have together.” She gave him a watery smile. “Listen to me, I sound like a Hallmark card.”
He gave a bark of laughter. “Yeah, you do.”
She hugged him tight and savored the solid feel of him against her. It would take him, and her, some time to get over this. Amazing how the actions of one crazy man with a gun could create ripples of trauma and pain,
touching people who weren’t even directly involved in the crime itself.
She brushed her lips across the base of his neck. He shifted. The heavy thickness of his erection, obvious through the soft denim of his jeans, surprised her. So did the fast, almost painful kiss he delivered.
She responded, opening her mouth, allowing her tongue to touch his. Immediately his arms hardened around her and he crushed her closer. His lips turned from gentle to devouring, sucking on her tongue, her lips.
He anchored a hand in her hair so that his palm cradled the nape of her neck. Tilted her head to get deeper access. She broke away with a gasp. “Mason…”
There was something hot and a little wild in his eyes when she looked at him. He closed his eyes and swallowed. “I’m sorry. I just…” He shook his head. “I’m not sorry. I need you. Now.”
She stroked a finger over his wet lip and then drew it away to kiss him with exactly the same amount of bruising force he’d shown her. “Then take me.”
The blue of his eyes deepened to cerulean. “The baby.”
“Is fast asleep. But let’s go to the bedroom just to be on the safe side, hmm?”
He released her hips and leaned back on the couch. “Run.”
He didn’t need to say anything else. The “or else” was heavily implied. With a half laugh, half squeal, she darted out of their living room and down the hall, thanking God that their daughter’s room was on the other side of the ranch home.
His rasping breath sounded louder as he gained on her. She knew he was being careful to keep barely a step or two behind her. Her heart thudded as she flew through the door of their master bedroom, more from excitement than actual exertion. She pivoted at the sound of him closing and locking the door behind them.
As soon as the lock was turned, he tore his T-shirt off over his head and tossed it aside. His jeans and boxers were unsnapped, unzipped and down his legs in seconds as well, leaving his already hardened cock bared.
Well hello.
She met his gaze, and wanting to play with that desperate edge just a little bit more, turned and lunged across the bed.
He caught her easily—she would have been disappointed if he hadn’t. Gripping her around the hips, he dragged her back until she was on her hands and knees, her ass in the air. He leaned in close and nuzzled her hair aside. “It’ll be hard.”
She shivered. They had a satisfying sex life. But with marriage and a child came mortgages and play dates and the occasional monotony.
That particular tone, the rough demand and need from her husband, didn’t come too often, and she reacted to it as if he’d poured gasoline right onto a small fire. Her body relaxed submissively below his dominant one, her core wetting and readying for the pounding thrusts of his body. “I don’t mind.”
He growled, already reaching below her, and he unsnapped and unfastened her jeans. A few jerks and he had them and her panties off. “Give me your hands.”
Another rush of arousal flooded through her pussy as she placed her hands behind her back. He readjusted her body so her head and shoulders were flat against the bed, her ass lifted to the sky. She heard rustling and felt him loop fabric around her wrists.
“Are those…?” Her breath hitched, the idea scandalous.
“Your panties,” he confirmed, with a wicked edge to his voice. He paused, as if he were enjoying the view. “God, you look so sexy. Tied up with your own panties, your ass and pussy offered up for me…” He stroked her exposed buttocks and dipped his finger into her channel. She moaned and raised her hips higher. He fucked her lazily with his forefinger.
Ignoring her small whimper of protest, he removed his finger and smoothed his hands higher, coasting them up her sides and under her yellow T-shirt. “And then up here, you’re still all prim and proper soccer mom.” He bent over her so his cock rode the crevice of her ass. He shoved the cups of her bra down, filling his hands with the mounds and pinching the nipples with exactly the amount of pressure she needed. “It’s so hot. I love the difference.”
She turned her head to try to capture his lips to seduce him into giving her what she craved. He withdrew his hands and slowly stretched so he stood behind her again. He delivered a small, almost careless pat to her ass cheek. “Stay still. I’ll be right back.”
She heard him walk away and rested her cheek against the comforter so she could watch him enter the closet. The thought of what they kept there, tucked away on the top shelf in an innocuous shoebox out of reach from inquisitive little hands, made her burn even more.
It felt like he was gone forever. Instead of abating her lust, it only drove it higher, each tick of the clock on the nightstand sounding off the beat of the blood flowing in the inflamed tissues of her pussy. The air conditioning kicked on, blowing over the wetness. Her bra was twisted below her breasts and her nipples rubbed against the cotton of her shirt. All of it inflamed her further.
She watched him exit their large walk-in closet with a tube of lubrication and a vibrator. Judging from the high flush on his cheeks and the curve of his cock, his arousal was unabated as well.
He tsked when his eyes met hers. “I thought I told you not to move.”
“If you’d hurry up, maybe I wouldn’t have had to.”
Laughter danced in his eyes as he walked toward her waiting body, stalking behind her once again. “You’re awfully demanding for someone who’s tied up and at my mercy.”
Her body ached. “Please, Mason.”
His fingers found the opening of her pussy. The cold air hit her as he opened her and she waited, tensed, for the broad head of his cock.
Instead, she felt the nubby, rubbery texture of the vibrator. She gasped as he drove it in with a strong, sure thrust. She was wet enough that he was able to push it in to the base without waiting for her to adjust. He pulled it out almost as quickly so the head of it just kissed her opening. “Put it back,” she gasped.
He turned it on the lowest possible setting and then shoved it in again. He only gave her a second to enjoy it before removing it.
He did that for a few strong thrusts until she was whimpering, her body aching with emptiness. The vibrator had nothing on his cock—the rubberized prop couldn’t begin to compare with him, either in size or feel. When he withdrew the next time, she rocked back, her impatience making her hungry.
“Did you want something?” he asked her, his tone as casual as if he were asking what side dish she preferred with her dinner.
“Mason, stop teasing me or I’ll kill you.”
He chuckled and held the fake cock at the entrance of her pussy lips, nudging it just inside. “Show me what you want. Fuck this for me.”
She didn’t need any more encouragement. She rocked her hips back and forth, fucking the vibrator he held motionless. He groaned. “Now this is an even prettier picture.”
What a spectacle she must be making of herself, her ass raised and naked in the air as she screwed the vibrator he held, her pink panties twisted around her wrists. Her breath came faster, her body moving quicker.
Though she was lost in desire, she couldn’t miss the snap of the lubrication tube’s cap. She stilled, knowing what was coming next and craving it with every breath she took.
“Do you know what would make this picture even better?”
She nodded, her forehead against the mattress.
“I wonder if I should be nice and give you a choice as to what I’ll use to fuck your ass.”
Her breath caught. “Don’t.”
He spread her cheeks. The dollop of lubricant he squirted on her anus was cold, but warmed quickly as he used his thumb to push it inside. “Don’t what?”
“Don’t be nice.”
He cursed, the sound rough and low. In the next instant, the broad head of his cock breached the entrance to her ass. The tight ring of muscle resisted him at first, but he knew her body well. In a couple inches then out one, then in again until he was lodged balls deep. He paused for a moment, and the rubber of the vibrator s
teadily breached her pussy until she was completely filled.
With a flick of his wrist the vibrator turned on to full blast, shocking every nerve ending and causing a hell of a climax to rush through her. He fucked her through the contractions in her pussy, moaning as her ass tightened on him. Her body didn’t stay empty for even a second. She came to reality, panting and exhausted to find him still steadily pumping inside of her. He pulled the vibrator from her pussy and tossed it next to her, grabbing her hips, all of his focus on his own pleasure. She closed her eyes and weathered the ride, taking his thrusts and his passion. He gave a low groan and thrust into her one last time, his balls slapping against her flesh, as he came long and hard.
He caught himself on his arms and withdrew slowly, her ass letting him go in small increments. He fumbled with the fabric around her wrists and then her hands were free. Mason helped her lower them from her back and turned her over, arranging both of them until she lay in the crook of his arm, her head on his chest. He used the arm encircling her to rub feeling back into her limbs as they stared at the ceiling and caught their breath.
“I don’t mean for this to diminish all the other times we’ve made love,” he rumbled. “But. Wow.”
“Mmmm.” She turned her head and kissed his chest. “We need to do this more often.”
“Have crazy wild sex?”
“Yup.” She rolled over and stacked her hands on his chest. “I love our sex life. But I think it’s nice to toss in moments like this.” She left the rest unsaid: if something happened to either of them, she wanted no what-ifs, no regrets.
They knew each other so well she didn’t need to say it. He drew her closer and pressed a light kiss on her lips.
Chapter Five
“You need to get married.”
“Mmm.”
“I mean it, Maira, you’re going to be twenty-five in just a few weeks. That’s the perfect age for marriage.”
Maira sighed. Only her mother would have marked out a window of marriageable age for her daughters. She allowed her parent’s softly accented voice to flow over her while she effectively zoned out. There wasn’t much to distract herself with in the tiny cramped office she shared with other doctors. After she counted the babies in the poster someone had hung on the back of the door—and what sick person put babies in pots anyway?—she started to sort through the paper on her desk.
