The Fight Club - Boxed Set

by Becca Jameson

  Mason looked her way and winked. He was so playful. “What if she’s right? What if I’m bad news?”

  “Then you wouldn’t be friends with Rafe.” No way would she believe this man was not on the up and up. He and Rafe were close friends. And Rafe didn’t hang with anyone who wasn’t perfectly safe. Hell, Rafe was the safety police. He doted on Katy like she was a precious jewel. She never went anywhere without Rafe’s knowledge.

  At first Jenna had been concerned when the two of them started dating, but after a while she decided Rafe had his own brand of safety. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Katy. It was that he was head over heels for her, and he worried about her. And rightfully so after everything that happened to Katy earlier in the year when she first met Rafe.

  Some crazed, disgruntled stalker decided to remove Katy from the face of the earth the moment he’d been released from jail. Katy had been his public defender a few years before and was unable to get him acquitted for the crimes he clearly committed. The lunatic managed to ransack both their homes and eventually came close to killing both Katy and Rafe.

  So if Rafe was a bit high strung when it came to Katy, he’d earned the right.

  At least that’s what Jenna had convinced herself of when she’d needed an explanation for the odd relationship her friend had with her fiancé. The important thing was they loved each other, and clearly Rafe made Katy very happy. Whatever weird things they seemed to communicate on the side weren’t affecting Katy’s happiness, so who was Jenna to judge?

  Chapter Three

  Rafe pulled up in front of Jenna’s apartment and stared out the windshield. “This is it?” His voice was neither accusing nor condescending. She couldn’t quite read his tone. If he judged her, he would find his ass out on the street in an instant.

  “Yep. It’s home.” She took in his look as his face softened, and he smiled at her. Good. “You coming in?”

  Mason nodded. “If you’d like.” He removed his seatbelt, opened his door, and circled to her side so fast she couldn’t have gotten out by herself if she’d wanted to.

  “I can manage a door, you know,” she said as he reached for her arm and helped her out of the low-riding car.

  “I’m certain you can. But you shouldn’t have to.” He stated that as if it were obvious. A true man wouldn’t leave his woman to make her own way, even if she wasn’t his woman at all.

  A shiver went down her spine as he helped her to the house, her arm once again in the crook of his elbow. He seemed to like her there.

  When they reached the door, Jenna fumbled around in her purse looking for her keys. The second she pulled them out, Mason grabbed them and had the door unlocked and opened in seconds. He stepped inside and managed to flip the light switch next to the door without looking. If she didn’t know better, she’d think he’d been there dozens of times.

  Jenna moaned as she kicked off her heels and reached down to pick them up. “My feet were killing me,” she muttered over her shoulder as she headed for the kitchen. “You want a drink?”

  “Water would be nice.”

  “Water?” She chuckled as she opened the fridge and pulled out two bottles of water. She passed one to him, shocked at how close he was behind her when she turned around.

  “Thanks.” He casually leaned against her kitchen island.

  Why did she shatter into a million pieces in his presence while he seemed cool as a cucumber?

  “How long have you lived here?” He twisted off the cap and tipped his head back. As he took a long swallow, she watched his throat, her mouth going dry.

  He’s in my kitchen…in my home. And he’s crowding the entire space as though he doesn’t quite fit. She swallowed around her dry mouth, the water bottle still clutched in her hand. She couldn’t quite figure out how to open it and take a drink with him so close to her. “Almost two years.” She looked around, trying to see the place through his eyes while at the same time avoiding his penetrating gaze that made her heart beat out of her chest.

  She doubted she could possibly keep her promise to Katy now that he was in her apartment.

  The kitchen was quite tidy considering she hadn’t left the house this evening expecting to bring a man home. She couldn’t imagine what her bedroom looked like. The idea made her slump her shoulders.

  “How long have you owned your own shop?”

  “The same amount of time. Two years. I got this place the same week I opened the store. It’s just a mile away.” She stared at his chest and lifted her gaze to his face. Chiseled was the best word to describe him, and she wanted to know what those muscles felt like under her palms.

  Mason set his empty bottle on the counter behind him and tugged hers out of her grip. He twisted the cap off and handed it back to her at chest level. “Drink?”

  The way he said the word and his continual manner of high-handedness made her shiver. He left her unsure if he’d asked her if she wanted a drink or commanded that she take a drink. He had a way of speaking nearly every time he opened his mouth that left her confused about his motives.

  He stared at her for several seconds, his brow furrowed as she held the bottle but didn’t tip it to her lips.

  Finally, seeming to break himself from a spell, he stepped around her and ran his hands over his short-cropped hair.

  “What?” How had she managed to irritate him without doing anything?

  “Nothing.” He glanced around and stepped farther away. “I should go.” He didn’t look at her.

  “Why?” Her voice squeaked as she asked, or rather seemed to beg with that one word.

  “Rafe…Katy… They’ll kill me.”

  “Yeah, I’m not sure I get that.” She shook her head and set the bottle of undrunk water on the counter. “No. In fact, I don’t get it at all. Why are we catering to those two exactly?”

  He stopped in the doorframe leading to the living area and turned to face her. He grabbed both sides of the frame with his hands. He was so tall and huge, he filled the entire space, again making the room seem to be sized wrong for him. “I can’t make love to you, Jenna. And you’re killing me.”

  “Can’t? Or won’t?” She had no idea exactly what he meant—again. He said it as though he weren’t capable.

  Jenna breathed hard and fast. She wanted this man more than she’d ever wanted a man in her life. Ten times more. And she was practically begging him. How the hell had it come to this? She knew he was interested. He made that clear from the moment he sauntered into the church late for the rehearsal.

  Whatever piece of this puzzle she was missing was a mystery.

  Mason stared at her, his expression serious and unreadable. Long seconds went by, maybe minutes, while Jenna heaved for oxygen and tried not to fidget.

  “Take off your dress.” His voice was lower, deeper. It wove through the room and wrapped around her, enveloping her in the command.

  She should have been shocked. Instead she was mesmerized as though held in a trance by his piercing stare.

  Jenna didn’t break his gaze as she did his bidding. Did he sway closer to her as she reached behind for the zipper?

  It could have been her imagination. Impossible to tell. He held the wood frame with a death grip, his body leaning into the room.

  She couldn’t read him, as usual, but at least he was moving in the right direction. She needed sex. Hell, she needed a fuck. She wanted him inside her, and she wanted fast and hard. Lucky for her, the intense stare he gave her told her he was on the edge of losing it alongside her.

  The zipper reached the bottom, and Jenna shrugged the dress around her until it fell to the floor. She stood before him knowing what he saw without lowering her gaze. All she wore underneath was a black lace bra and a matching thong. Why she’d worn her favorite sexy set tonight she would never know, but thank God.

  “Step out from behind the island,” he demanded. His voice remained low. His gaze roamed down her body as she did his bidding again, exposing herself to his piercing gaze. “Spin ar
ound. Let me see all of you.”

  Jenna licked her dry lips again, wishing she’d at least taken a sip of that water. She spun slowly. It was the only option, really. If she moved any faster, she would have lost her balance and fallen. There was little blood available to command her legs with.

  Her breasts felt enormous, and she was afraid to glance down and break the spell. Her pussy was so wet she feared she would leak down her leg.

  “Take off the rest, Jenna.” The way he said her name made her shiver. He caressed her with it, from across the room. He wasn’t touching her, and yet he made love to her with his eyes, his words. Or was he fucking her? She wasn’t sure. He’s such a perv. That thought made her pussy clench.

  Jenna reached behind and unclasped her bra. Relief filled her to release her tight, heavy breasts from the confining garment. It wasn’t that she was so big. She was average for her size and height, but for whatever reason, she’d been exploding from the lace ever since she’d laid eyes on Mason.

  She dropped the black silk on the floor and lifted her gaze to his once more.

  He wasn’t looking at her face. He was taking in her breasts, and she struggled to keep from covering herself at the intensity in his blue eyes.

  He stared forever at her chest until her nipples grew tight and goose bumps rose on her skin as though his fingers drifted across the tips.

  She held her hands at her sides and fisted her fingers until her nails dug into her palms. The sharp pain grounded her, kept her from floating off the floor.

  When he glanced back at her face, he lifted a brow. “Panties too, please.”

  Jenna jerked. A ball in the lower pit of her stomach grew and pressed into her pussy. Her legs shook at his plea.

  God almighty he had a way…

  Jenna tucked her thumbs into the lace at her hips and lowered the thong, wiggling her ass back and forth until the material fell to the floor. She stepped out of the scrap of lace, toward him.

  They were separated by far too much distance.

  He continued to stare, except now he took in her pussy as though under a microscope.

  Self-consciousness flooded her system. She groomed down there, but she did it herself. She wasn’t overly careful. After all, she hadn’t had a man in her apartment for over a year. Who the hell cared if she shaved or not?

  Luckily she’d shaved today. The short dress demanded she shave her legs, and while she’d been working her way up, she’d formed the nice triangle she liked to keep at the apex of her sex.

  “It’s been a while since I’ve seen a woman so…pure. I’m not used to pubic hair. It suits you. I like it.”

  What the fuck? How many women does he have?

  Jenna crossed her legs and lost her ability to remain impassive.

  In two strides, Mason was in front of her. Before she could grasp his intention, he lifted her by the waist and set her on the end of the island.

  Jenna gasped and grabbed his shoulders, shock making her unsteady after the way he hadn’t moved for such a long time.

  Mason released her waist and wrapped his hands around her knees. The next thing she knew, he had spread her open and settled her legs wide, straddling the island. It was almost too far for her to stretch, and she was more exposed in this position than she could ever recall.

  When he had her legs how he wanted them, he pressed himself between them against the side of the island. He lifted her chin to his face with one hand and plucked her lip from between her teeth.

  She hadn’t realized she was biting her lip. He stroked the offended flesh with his thumb and then lowered his gaze to her breasts. He cradled each one in his hands and grazed his thumbs over her nipples.

  She jumped.

  “Stay still,” he growled. God, he was bossy.

  And her pussy leaked as he commanded her.

  “Your tits are so rosy, Jenna.” They were the first words he’d spoken that weren’t demands. They were an observation, but she heard the reverence. “Lie back.” He reached behind her and lowered her slowly onto the tile.

  It was cold against her back, but she welcomed the contrast with her heated skin. She stared at the ceiling, unable to see his gaze well without twisting her neck to the side.

  “Lift your arms over your head.” His tone was low, but soothing now.

  She couldn’t stop herself. Whatever he requested, she obeyed. She raised her arms and clasped her fingers together above her head on the island. Somehow holding one with the other was grounding, as though they had each other.

  An unexpected moan escaped her lips when he lightly skimmed his fingers down her neck, her chest, her belly… When he reached her pussy, he trailed the tips of each finger around to the sides, bringing more goose bumps to her thighs as he fondled the inside of each leg.

  Jenna lifted her knees subconsciously.

  Mason pressed them back down. “Stay still,” he repeated. “Let me see you first.”

  First? First before what? If he didn’t take his clothes off and fuck her soon, she was going to implode.

  As though knowing she wouldn’t be able to obey, he placed one hand firmly against her groin while he stroked through her sex with the other.

  “Oh God, Mason.” She moaned around the words. She’d never been so prepared. So ready. So fucking horny.

  “So wet for me, baby.” He leaned down and blew a breath against the wetness he’d brought out.

  Jenna would have bucked completely off the island if he hadn’t held her steady. But he knew that.

  He chuckled, his seriousness evaporating. “So responsive. I love that.” He tested her again, as though her responses were fascinating. This time he dipped two fingers into her and drew them back out across her G-spot.

  The invasion was so swift and unexpected, she stopped breathing. She was so close to coming, she thought she would embarrass herself.

  “And tight. Shit, Jenna. When did you have sex last?”

  She bit the inside of her cheek, not wanting to answer the question. He was obviously a man who enjoyed frequent intercourse. She felt like a fool.

  “Jenna, answer me. When was the last time a man had his cock inside you?” He pushed those two fingers back inside and scissored them as he spoke.

  Her mouth opened, but all she could think about was his fingers and how good they felt. How bad she wanted him to stroke her clit. How fucking arousing his dominating ways made her body jump at his command.

  He pulled his hand away and lifted his head.

  He waited until she lowered her gaze to his. She was shocked to find him licking his fingers clean. He stared at her face, his damn eyebrow lifted in its usual questioning spot.

  What was his question? Oh, right. Her sex partners. How personal. But she would do anything to make him fuck her. “Over a year.” Her voice barely sputtered out.

  He smiled. “I like that.”

  She dropped her head back on the tile as he lowered his attention to her pussy again. The hand he held her down with pressed on her skin, pulling it toward her belly. She realized his intent when her clit popped free of the little hood, exposed to the air.

  “Oh, baby. That’s so sexy.” He brushed his fingertip over the nub, and she screamed.

  “More,” she begged. “Please.” She rolled her head back and forth, her eyes squeezed shut as she tried to concentrate on the sensations bombarding her system.

  “Patience, Jenna.” He danced his free hand over her belly and across her breasts, avoiding her nipples. “All good things require self-restraint.”

  What the hell?

  Mason tortured her breasts forever, circling her nipples over and over until she thought it would never end. There was a precise moment when his smooth touches finally caused her arousal to ebb, and that was the second he pinched a nipple between his thumb and finger, hard.

  Jenna bucked her chest off the island. She flung her arms from over her head and grasped his wrist where he held her poor nipple captive. Her arousal shot from its recession to fu
ll blown in an instant.

  “Ah ah,” he muttered. “Put your hands back above your head, and I’ll release you.”

  At this point Jenna wasn’t sure she wanted to be released. The sweet torture on her nipple was at once painful and arousing. Nevertheless, she lifted her arms back above her head. This time she gripped the edge of the island and held on.

  “Good girl.” He released her offended tit only to repeat the action on the other side. This time it wasn’t as shocking. She still bucked her chest, but she didn’t let go of the tile. “Even your tits are responsive. Are you always this easily aroused?”

  Did she have to answer that?

  Mason pinched the first nipple again, harder. The pain was intense, but her pussy fucking loved it at the same time.

  “No.” She shook her head, realizing he did in fact require a response. “Never.”

  “Good. I like that too. So it’s me.”

  “Yes. Please, Mason…” Her voice trailed off. Somehow she knew her words were useless wastes of consonants and vowels that did nothing but fill the room with noise.

  He still held her steady at the waist with his other hand, and he leaned away from her chest again. He stroked his fingers through her growing moisture and rubbed her own lubricant across her clit. It pulsed as he pressed into it.

  Jenna gritted her teeth, trying not to come and hoping she came at the same time. She craved the release, but she also preferred to wait for him to enter her. He only got one shot. It would be so much sweeter if he was inside when she came. Should she tell him?

  She couldn’t form all of that into words. Plus she doubted he would take anything she said into consideration, anyway. She had no choice but to follow his lead.

  Mason showed no signs of slowing down. He circled her clit and flicked his finger over it in no apparent pattern, leaving her gasping and wondering when his next touch would come. Every few passes, he pushed two fingers into her as deep as he could and then returned to her clit, leaving her reeling at the quick invasion and retreat.

  “So hot, baby,” he whispered. “Come for me, Jenna.”

  Jenna tensed. She shook her head. No. Please. Don’t make me come until you’re inside me.