Loving Mason (Imperfect Love Book 2)

by Molloy, Ruby

  I laugh. I like this side of her, the side that shows me she has balls. “Fuck me,” I say. She grins, picks up her fork, and bites into another prawn while I watch on in awe. She does this to me; knocks me sideways with her quiet, smartass comments. I like her subtlety, her cute as hell grin. Shit, I even like the way she fidgets when she’s nervous.

  “That mean you’re staying tonight?” I ask.

  “Do you want me to?” Her grey eyes are fixed on mine, challenging me. I consider responding with something glib. I could be that dumb fuck, the one who throws out the chicken-shit comments because he’s too scared to open up. Or I could show her there’s more to me. I could give her what I’m thinking, because I’m beginning to realise if I want a part of Frankie, I’m going to have to give her a part of me.

  “Yeah, I’d like that,” I admit.

  She nods, as if I’m simply confirming what she already knows.

  “Fuck, I like you,” I admit. It comes out harsh, and it’s obvious I don’t want to feel this way. “I’m not sure how to deal with that.” My gaze drifts to the right as I try to figure out how I’m going to tell her. In the end, I just say it. “Tamsin, she means a lot to me. Always will.” I’m wise enough to know that’s not what she wants to hear and I wonder if I’ve fucked up. She’s examining my face, searching for answers.

  “Are you in love with her?”

  “Not anymore. I’m over that. But if you’d asked me a year ago, my answer would have been different.”

  “You were together a year ago?”

  “No. She’d already moved to the States the year before. I guess you could say it took me a while to get over her.”

  Her eyes widen until all I can see are soft grey irises.

  “She left you?” she asks, surprised.

  I know this looks bad. She thinks I’m still hooked on Tamsin, but that’s not true. At least, not anymore. “Her career was taking off and she needed out of London―that’s where we settled when I got out of prison. When the job offer came in from the States she left. I stayed.”

  “She left you behind?”

  I fix my gaze on her, frowning. “Don’t make me out to be some sad fuck, Frankie. Tamsin left. It was my decision to stay.”

  “But if you loved her ...”

  “I loved her but I had commitments, responsibilities.”

  It’s not the whole story. If this thing goes further, maybe I’ll tell her, but not now. Not yet.

  The waiter returns with our drinks, unobtrusively opening the bottle before partially filling Frankie’s glass. When he’s gone she tastes her wine and carefully places her glass on the table. “We both have exes,” she says quietly. “Exes that still mean something to us.”

  “You’re still in love with him?”

  “No! I mean, I love Sid but not that way, you know?”

  It fucking sucks that I don’t believe her. It took me a year to stop loving Tam and another to move on. Remembering how it was – and how I am – I’m not sure I’ll be around long enough to see the day Frankie will be clear of the guy. I’m not looking for commitment and even though I know it’s going to wreck my chances of having sex with her, I need to tell her this. I don’t want to be the jerk who fucks a girl and walks away without a backward glance. I mean, I’ve done that, sure, but that was before I learned Frankie’s not that kind of girl.

  “There’s something you should know,” I say.

  She doesn’t go solid on hearing those words the way some girls would. And she doesn’t give a snarky, ‘oh yeah’. She watches me with her calm grey eyes and waits for me to continue.

  “The thing is ... What I’m trying to say is, I’m not in this for the long haul. Things with Tam and me, well, let’s just say they were a fucking mess for a long time. And there’s personal stuff too, things I can’t tell you. You’re a nice girl, Frankie. I just want to be upfront with you.”

  The waiter returns to clear our plates and I sit impatiently, waiting for him to fuck off so I can hear her response.

  “I’m a nice girl?”

  “Yeah, sure―”

  “The kind of nice girl that gets shafted by guys like you?”

  “What? No! That’s not what I’m saying―”

  “No? What then, Mason!”

  “I’m just being honest here. There hasn’t been anyone since Tam―”

  She laughs. It’s loud and scornful, and it draws the attention of several diners. “I’m pretty sure we had sex not so long ago!”

  “That’s not what I’m talking about here. I’m talking about love, and you’ve got to know that whatever we had or have, it’s not that.” For a second I think I’ve hurt her. She seems to shrink in on herself and she’s fucking small enough already. “Christ, Frankie, don’t look at me like that. You’ve got to know what I’m talking about. You and your guy were together a long time and it’s only been a few months since you split. I bet you can’t imagine falling in love with anyone, right?”

  She nods as if she’s still catching up with what I’m saying. “Right,” she says.

  “Well, good. I’m glad we’re in agreement. So we’ll take this thing wherever it’s going and we both know it’s not going to last forever. Yeah?”

  “Okay,” she says.

  I roll back in my chair, grateful she understands where I’m coming from.

  “Uh, do you know where the toilets are?” she asks.

  “Uh, yeah. Just to the right of the bar, over there.”

  She smiles in gratitude and walks through the restaurant. I can’t help watching. There’s something graceful about the way she walks, though tonight there’s something off. She’s holding her head high, as if she’s trying to hold herself together and she’s clutching her purse like it contains a million pounds. She must have misheard my instructions for the toilets because she walks right by the bar. It’s only when the maitre d’ holds the door open for her that I finally register that she’s leaving.

  Fucking shit!

  I jump up, intent on following, but the waiter blocks my path. “Everything alright, sir?”

  No, it’s not fucking alright. I scramble for my wallet and shove several hundred into his hands before chasing after Frankie. Out on the street, I can see she’s not that far ahead. I catch up with her in no time and adjust my stride to hers.

  “I messed up,” I say, though she doesn’t acknowledge my presence, let alone my words. “I’m a dick. I know this. I don’t want to jack you around, Frankie, least, not anymore.” I glance her way, but her jaw is still tight and she won’t look my way. I have two minutes to turn this around and I don’t know how the fuck I’m going to pull this off. I go over what I said, trying to find what might have pissed her off. “Is it because I said I’m not in this for the long term? Because, I could have mouthed all kinds of clichés to get you to drop your panties, if I wanted. I was just giving you the truth.”

  She looks at me with scorn and I try another route. “Okay, not that one. Was it because I called you nice? Is that it?” I know I’m right when she glances my way with narrowed eyes, hiding her pretty grey irises.

  “See, Frankie, you obviously have a different interpretation of nice, coz where I come from nice is a good thing.”

  “Nice girls are dull, Mason. Nice girls don’t get guys like you.”

  “What the fuck? I’m here aren’t I? I’m chasing after you like a fucking jerk and I’ve been sporting a hard-on since I first saw you in that skimpy, goddamn outfit. What the hell do you call that thing, anyway? Christ, you think I’d be doing any of this if I thought you were dull?”

  We’re in the underground car park now and she’s heading towards a crappy-looking car that might have looked great once, but now has more rust than an abandoned tin can. She’s fishing in her purse for her keys. That’s when I stall and watch her walk the final few steps. I try one last time.

  “Frankie.”

  She glances over her shoulder and I don’t even know what I’m going to say, I just know it bett
er be good. No, more than that, it better be fucking perfect. “You don’t know me. Yeah, you know I went to prison, you know where I live and that I work in a nightclub, but you don’t know me. If you did, you’d know I don’t chase after girls. Tamsin’s the one who made a play for me. And the one night stands, that’s them coming after me―every time. I’ve never gone after a girl. Never. Except with you.”

  She arches an eyebrow. “And Nora?”

  “Christ, Frankie, that was only ever about the sex. You’ve gotta let that go.”

  “Right. So what are we about?”

  I raise a hand in frustration. “Fuck if I know. But it’s not about sex.” Realising that’s not exactly true, I tilt my head and grin. “Well, it kind of is, but there’s more.”

  “Just not for too long, though, hey?” she says. Her tone is resigned, and I’m not sure whether that’s a good or bad thing.

  I frown. I’m not about to give her false promises. “No, not for too long,” I confirm.

  “Out of curiosity, just how long is too long, Mason?”

  Christ, what’s with all the questions? I rub my jaw, forgetting it’s buried beneath my beard. “Shit, I don’t know. Three months, six months, how the fuck do I know?” I feel like I’m bidding for her. Maybe I should up the offer to nine months? No, I’m not sure I could make it to nine. I’d probably be wanting out by then. Or worse, I’d be wanting in, for good.

  “So, what’s it going to be?” My patience is wearing thin. I want her, but I’m not about to beg. Begging’s for losers.

  She glances from me, to the stairs, and back again. “Can we take the lift?” she asks.

  I give a brief shake of my head. “Uh-uh. It’s the stairs or nothing.”

  “Damn it, Mason, can’t you at least let me win on this one small thing?”

  “Not this time, babe, but I’ll let you choose your side of the bed and I’ll bring you coffee in the morning. I’ll also give you an orgasm or two, if you like.”

  I think she likes, because her eyes heat and her cheeks grow pink. I watch her walk towards the stairs and I follow. We climb, side by side. I can smell her perfume, calling on me to strip her naked and when she fits her hand in mine she might just as well have grabbed my cock, because that’s where my blood is heading. I want her hands on me, I want her tugging down my boxers, cupping and stroking me until I’m out of my mind.

  The apartment’s still lit from earlier. I can’t make up my mind whether to head to my bedroom or to get it on here, up against the front door. The bedroom wins when I have to bend my knees to kiss her. Guiding her down the hall, I pick her up and drop her on the bed, following when she scoots up towards the pillows. I cover her mouth with mine and as much as I thought I wanted her before, now it’s off the fucking scale. I can’t get enough. My tongue dips in and finds hers. I can’t back off, I can’t control what’s happening. My hand grabs at her curls, holding her in place so I can take everything I need.

  When I’ve had enough to sustain me for a few seconds, I’m on my knees, watching her chest rising and falling. Her eyes are barely open, but they’re watching as I reach for her ankle. I try to loosen the strap on her sandal, but it has a tiny, silver buckle that’s impossible to manipulate, and the strap is too fine for my fingers to loosen. My hand encompasses her entire ankle and I’m conscious I might hurt her.

  Admitting defeat, I move on and concentrate on the fun parts. Except I can’t access them either because her outfit doesn’t seem to have a zip. The shorts and top appear to be one piece of fabric. “How the fuck do you get this thing off?”

  She huffs out a laugh and slides from the bed to release a hidden zip in the side. The whole thing slivers to the floor and she’s standing before me in a pale blue thong and sandals. My eyes don’t know where to settle first.

  Jesus!

  I bracket her waist and pull her towards me until she’s centred between my thighs. Dipping my mouth to her rib cage, I kiss the lower curve of her breast, teasing her with the swirl of my tongue.

  “Mason!”

  She twists her hips in my grip and I keep my tongue flat, running it towards her beaded nipple, licking and sucking until she’s moaning and twisting, gripping my quiff with her fingers. Her reaction drives me on to devote my attention to her other breast and I’m drowning in the taste and feel of her. Dipping my hands in her thong, I tug it down and watch as it catches on her heels. She kicks it free and I can’t help but slide to my knees, diving into the nestle of blonde curls, licking and sucking, getting the taste of her. Cupping her hips to hold her steady, I find her clit with my tongue and I swear I don’t pass it more than a couple of times before I feel her coming. Her quiet moan incites me to prolong her orgasm, until she’s chanting and groaning.

  I need in. Now.

  “On the bed.”

  She does as I ask, watching me as I strip free of my clothes, and when I’m buck naked, poised at the foot of the bed, she performs a hip roll that has to be the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen. Fuck, what an invitation.

  Retrieving a condom from the back pocket of my jeans, I roll it on, cursing when it gets snagged. She’s watching and the tip of her tongue darts out when I take my time, giving myself a hand glide once it’s in place.

  Knee to the bed, I crawl up over her body, leaning down for another kiss, another taste. “You ready?” I ask.

  She nods and I kiss her again before lining myself up and pushing in, hard. I can feel her heat, and I can’t hold back the groan when my dick is buried deep. She moans again when I thrust, though this time the sound is rougher, less controlled. Her fingers are gripping my shoulders and her legs are coiled around me, her feet pressed into the back of my thighs.

  “Christ, Frankie,” I groan, kissing her, pumping my hips, losing my fucking mind. Her arms rise above her head, pushing against the headboard. I can’t seem to slow down and I know if I don’t get there right fucking now I’m going to die.

  Choking off a yell when I come, I bury my face in her neck and she cries out my name, scoring my back with her nails. The spasms in my balls are almost painful, dying back slowly. I strain to catch my breath as I give her my weight, our bodies glued together with sweat.

  I don’t think I can move.

  I was rough, too rough. And fast.

  “Sorry,” I say.

  She remains silent.

  Rising up on my elbows, I see that her eyes are closed and her lashes are spread against her pale upper cheeks.

  Shit! Definitely too rough.

  Withdrawing and rolling to the side, I cup her face and caress her cheek with my thumb. “Open your eyes, Frankie.”

  I’m about to launch into an apology when they flutter open and I’m looking into eyes that are soft and satiated. She offers up a smile and it’s impossible not to reciprocate. “Shit, you had me scared for a minute.”

  “I did?”

  “Yeah. Thought maybe I’d been too rough.”

  She smiles. “With you, I like it.”

  “You do, huh? Guess that means we’re compatible.” She blinks and I feel the need to clarify. “Sexually, I mean.”

  Happiness ebbs from her face. She pushes me away and rolls to her side, shielding her expression. “Mason, please don’t feel the need to quantify. I get it, really, I do. We’re temporary. I understand.”

  And that, right there, is one of the numerous reasons why I can’t do relationships. Sure, it hurt like a motherfucker to lose Tam, but my pain was insignificant compared to what I inflicted on her. And now I’m doing the same with Frankie. I’m what the prison guards would call a repeat offender.

  “Not sure you do, Frankie,” I say, leaving the bed. "I’m gonna go clean up.”

  I expect to find her gone when I return. Or maybe I hoped she’d be gone. But she’s still there, in my bed. Her sandals are on the floor and she’s lying on her side, watching me. She’s lying on her belly beneath the duvet, her upper back and shoulders exposed, her skin pale against the bedding. She offers me a ten
tative smile and I feel a burning sensation behind my ribs.

  “I have to leave early,” she says. “I’m having breakfast with Ivy. She’s got a coupon and she wants to use it before it’s out of date.”

  I make a noise that’s meant to communicate ‘I heard what you said, but I have nothing to add’. It seems to work. I climb in beside her and lay on my back. I’m uncomfortable. Not physically, but mentally. I haven’t shared a bed with anyone since Tam. It’s dark, and there’s fuck all to see, but I can’t close my eyes. Frankie is still on her belly, propped up on her elbows and I’ve a feeling she’s watching me. I know it for sure when she leans down, drops a kiss on my mouth, and says, “Relax. Go to sleep.”

  She rolls to her side, her back to me, and soon after I hear her soft, even breathing. My own gradually slips into the same pattern, and I fall asleep.

  I wake twice during the night, and twice we fuck. When I wake up the third time, she’s gone and the LED on my phone is flashing. The message contains three words and I can’t help grinning when I read, Best sex ever x

  ♥ TEN ♥

  Pink Rabbits

  Frankie

  It’s my birthday. My twenty-first birthday, to be precise. Apparently, it’s customary to celebrate said birthday on a grand scale. I’m not exactly big on birthdays, and I’m especially not big on turning twenty-one. Tonight I’m celebrating with Ivy. And Mason. It’ll be the first time they’ve set eyes on each other and I have no idea how it’s going to go. Ivy was the one who insisted on meeting Mason and when I explained this to him he was okay. He wasn’t super enthusiastic or anything, but he agreed, so I guess that counts for something, though I’ve no idea what.