by J. Daniels
Thud.
A notepad getting tossed, perhaps?
“Right,” I laugh.
“Anyway, I was just wondering how serious this is with you and him. I mean, obviously you’re willing to admit you’re dating, since you planned on bringing him with you tonight.”
“Mm mmm.”
“And that in itself is a miracle,” she chuckles softly. “Headline news. But, I didn’t know if this is just something you are doing for fun, or if it’s more than that. If you even know what it is.”
“I love him.”
She gasps. My stomach does a strange little flip.
“What? You do? Really?”
“Yeah.” Grinning, I grab the phone and set it on my chest. I lift my hair up and let the cool comforter chill the back of my neck. “I really, really love him. I think I just got butterflies from saying it. So apparently those are real.”
“Brooke, that’s wonderful.” Her voice grows exceedingly quiet.
I listen to her soft sniffles. My sister, ever the emotional wreck when it comes to anything even slightly romantic.
“Oh, my God. I was not expecting you to say that. Does he know?”
“I told him last night, right after I figured it out.” I pinch my thighs together. “Then we had wild, shameless sex into the wee hours.”
Juls shrieks. “I’m so happy for you! On both counts, obviously. And I know he loves you too. God, I saw it that night at The Tavern. The way he spoke about you while you were in the bathroom. He was so in love then.”
“What?” I scoff. “No, he wasn’t. That was before we even knew each other at all.”
Is she insane? How he could he have loved me then? I met him two minutes before that night.
“So? I went out with Ian one time and I knew I was going to marry him. One date and that was it. Boom. Why should it take longer? Your soul is recognizing who it belongs to. Knowing should be immediate. It’s like seeing a familiar face in a crowd.”
I press my lips together, holding in my programmed skeptical remark.
Hmm. Maybe Juls is right? Maybe it isn’t entirely strange for it to happen in an instant for some people. I remember what she was like after meeting Ian. Lord, she never shut up about the guy.
And now I never shut up about the guy.
“Maybe,” I quietly reply, thinking back to that night at the bar.
Mason’s face when he walked over. His engaging stare. The way he cared more about hearing me than staying and having a few drinks.
Did he love me then? God, that seems completely senseless.
“Is this like, it for you? Is he the one?”
“Jesus, Juls.” I sit up and hold my phone out. “Would you get out of wedding planner mode please? I told you I loved him. I didn’t ask your opinion on venues or centerpieces.”
Now I know she’s taking notes. I’m sure she has her planner open and is looking at potential dates. So typical.
“Did I ask about venues and centerpieces? No, I asked if you thought Mason was the one. A completely logical question considering your feelings for him.”
“Crazy about Dylan being on bed rest, huh? Can you believe it?”
“Brooke,” Juls snaps. “Don’t change the subject.”
I exhale a slow breath, leaning on my knees and running my thumb over my toenail polish. “The one,” I repeat quietly, contemplating this foreign idea of forever with the same person. A concept I’ve never considered.
But I also never gave a second thought to loving someone. I never imagined any of this happening.
Mason is my wild card. He’s that unexpected storm that hits when you’re outside on a beautiful day, and at first you don’t want it. You were enjoying the sun and the heat on your skin. That’s what makes you happy. Then the sky darkens and the temperature drops a little, and you think ‘okay, this breeze is nice’. You wait it out, thinking it’ll pass, but the rain starts to fall. The first drop hits your shoulder. Another soaks into your hair. It startles you, but it feels good. You were too hot anyway. Then before you know it, it’s pouring, saturating your clothes and pooling on the earth. A giggle bubbles in your throat. Where is this coming from? It’s so sudden and surprising, and in a matter of seconds, you’re drenched from head to toe. Your beautiful day is ruined, and you can’t stop laughing.
You can’t stop laughing.
The sun is overrated anyway. Give me a sweet storm when I least expect it.
Juls hums impatiently in my ear as I smile against my fingers.
“I . . .”
A knock on the door interrupts me. My heart thumps against my ribs.
Mason.
I leap off the bed and breeze through the condo. “Juls, hey, I gotta go. Mason is here.”
“What? No! Yes or no. Yes or no. Give me something.”
“I have to go,” I laugh, stepping up to the door and peering through the peep-hole, grinning at the gorgeous sight of the man on the other side.
Mason looks so damn good in a gray dress shirt, the button undone at the collar, revealing his tanned neck and the thick protuberance of his Adam’s apple.
Fuck, I want to lick him there.
He stares straight ahead, straight at me, as if he knows I’m looking at him. Admiring. A smirk playing on his lips and his blue eyes bright.
“Brooke,” Juls says in my ear, her voice insistent.
I feel a surge of heat blossom in my chest. My toes curl on the carpet.
“Yes.” I disconnect the call, cutting off her exuberant reply. I wrench the door open and hurl myself into Mason’s arms.
I cling to him, kissing his jaw and inhaling his warm skin.
Jesus. Do all Australians smell this good? Like sunshine and impending orgasms. Mercy.
“Hey.” He squeezes me back, wrapping his arms around my waist and lifting me off the ground. The pressure of his hold is paramount.
Did he hear me through the door? Does he know I just chose him as my forever?
I press my face against his neck, concealing my burning cheeks. “Hi,” I whisper.
He laughs quietly, then leans back to kiss my temple. “Little devil. Ready to go?”
“Change of plans.” I wiggle out of his arms and grab his hand, tugging him inside. I kick the door closed. “My nephew has the chicken pox. Juls just called. I’ve never had them so I can’t go over there. God, can you imagine if I got them now? With Dylan laid up? Joey would be in charge of the bakery.” I make a face. “Everything would be cream filled.”
Mason smirks, then lowers his eyes to my attire, focusing on the crisscross of fabric over my breasts. His chest moves with a deep inhale. “Yeah? No dinner?”
I shrug. “Well, no meal with my family. We can eat something here. Or go out.”
“Mm.” He reaches for the door and turns the lock. His eyes darken.
Oh. Ohhhh. Eat something here. Right. Excellent choice.
“Anyone else home, sweetheart?”
I watch Mason’s hands lower to his belt. My neck warms.
“No,” I answer, shaking my head as he steps closer. “No, they went out. They won’t be back for a while.”
“Good. I’ve been hard all day.”
My gaze flicks up to his. “You have?”
The sound of the belt loosening draws my attention back down. The sharp whip of leather.
Mason grabs my hand and presses it against his cock through the fabric of his pants. He moans. The stiff organ twitches in my palm.
“Oh,” I gasp, molding my hand to him. “God . . .”
“Ever since this morning, Brooke.”
He tips my chin up, looking at me while he uses my hand to stroke his length. The front of his pants becomes restrictive. My pulse quickens to a galloping pace.
“I keep hearing your voice telling me you’re with me, and I get so fucking hard.”
I grip his shirt, reaching for a kiss. “I’m with you.”
His breath bursts across my mouth. “Brooke.”
“Tak
e me. Here. Right here.”
He grabs my breast roughly and squeezes, giving me the briefest of kisses before my head rolls to the side with a moan.
“I want you wet,” he says, kissing the line of my neck. Moving his breath over my skin. I shudder when I feel teeth. “So wet that when I bend down and lick that sweet pussy you drip down the back of my throat.”
“Mason, Jesus.” My hand goes stagnant against his cock. My other squeezing his waist. “That won’t be a problem.”
God, what his filthy mouth does to me. I’m worried my legs might give out soon.
He backs me against the bar counter, his thumb rubbing mercilessly over my nipple through the thin fabric of my dress.
I make quiet little noises against his shirt when he tugs on the hardened peak.
“I want you to milk my cock with these.” He runs his hand between my breasts. “And this.” He smooths his thumb over my mouth, then slides his hand beneath my dress and cups my throbbing sex.
His eyes flicker. I nearly shoot off the ground.
“Mm. Think I might start with this.”
“Fuck. Please.”
I grab his face and kiss him, and it becomes a battle of who can kiss harder, firmer, who can steal the other’s breath away faster as both of our hands fumble between us, him popping the button on his pants and my fingers tugging on the zipper. He frees his cock. I hike up my dress. My thong stays in place, Mason slipping his finger under the wet fabric and tugging it aside. He runs his digit through my slit.
“Jesus,” he moans. His eyes lowering as mine threaten to roll back in my head. “Tits out, gorgeous.”
I pull the neckline of my dress down.
Bossy Mason. Yummy.
My breasts pop free, the cool air of the condo assaulting my nipples. I squeak when he grips the back of my thighs and lifts me, bringing us chest to chest, my hands gripping his hair and his palming my ass and squeezing.
He buries his face in my neck. “Want you. Want you so fucking bad I can’t think.”
“Take me. Please,” I groan, biting my lip when he slowly lowers me onto his cock. My legs shake as he stretches me. “Mason . . . oh, fuck.”
He bounces me up and down, fucking me in the middle of my friends’ condo, with our clothes still on and the cold metal of his zipper rubbing against my clit. Biting at my flesh. It hurts and it’s heaven. Fuck, he’s so big I fear he might rip me in half, but even the threat of death wouldn’t stop me from taking this. From allowing him to use my body for his pleasure, which is exactly what he’s doing. I have no control right now. He’s manipulating my weight, lowering me onto his cock at the pace and ferocity he wants, and every time I gasp in shock or squirm in his arms, he revels in my response by giving it to me harder. Faster. Squeezing my thighs until they sting as he shows me how fierce his need is for me, which only solidifies my longing for him.
I’ve kept him hard since this morning. He’s punishing me in the sweetest way for it.
Take me. Take me. Just don’t let me go.
With parted lips he looks into my eyes, our faces inches apart as his shallow breaths bathe my skin and absorb into my lungs.
I feel drugged.
I want to taste him in my soul. I want to feel him moving in my blood. I want to consume and be consumed by this man. Only him.
Love is a madness I will willingly accept if he’s the one pulling me under.
“Brooke . . . goddamn.” He thrusts his hips steadily. “So good. So good, baby.”
God, I love it when he calls me that.
My fingers tug at Mason’s hair as I lean forward and moan into his mouth. I feel my orgasm tickling my spine. “I’m close. Where do you want to come?” I ask, watching the sweat bead on his brow. His nostrils flaring.
He keeps me on the tip of his cock, slowly lowering and lifting me. He sucks on my lips. “Where can I?” His voice is strained. He’s close too.
“Anywhere.”
“Anywhere?” He leans back and studies my face.
I smirk. I can’t help myself.
Tensing my thighs, I arch into him and reach behind me, fisting his cock. I position him at my back entrance.
He sucks in a breath. His eyes as round as quarters as he stares at me. “Brooke.”
“Anywhere,” I whisper against his mouth, slowly applying pressure to the head of his cock, easing him past that tight ring of muscle.
I take in slow, deep breaths, controlling my breathing.
Mason isn’t controlling much of anything.
“Baby,” he rasps, his shoulders and arms tensing, his chest heaving as he slips inside, just an inch, maybe not even that much. Growling like a caged animal, the cords in his neck threatening to burst, he lifts me off his cock and reaches between us, stroking himself furiously against my clit. “Ah, fuck . . . Brooke, fuck!” he yells, the first spurts of cum hitting my stomach and the bunched material of my dress. The rest of his desire coating my sex and his fingers.
Bliss.
“Wow,” I breathe, dragging my lips along his cheek, moaning at the warm sensation between my legs. “That was crazy.”
And hot.
Mason snarls, leaning away and looking down between us. I swear he sways on his feet.
“Shit, Brooke. Fuck. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I got it on your dress.”
“Shh.” I reach down and grab his dick, pressing it where I ache the most. Our eyes lock. “Need to come.”
Huffing out a breath, he moves us to a nearby stool and sits me on it. His cock wet and heavy against my thigh. With his hand between my legs and his lips moving across my skin, he brings me to orgasm within seconds, pressing sweet words against my cheek and dirty ones into my ear.
He tells me I’m beautiful, the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen, and that he’ll be coming in my ass soon enough.
My tight, fuckable ass.
I moan against his shirt, panting as I come down from my climax. He grabs my face and kisses me.
“You.” He smiles against my mouth. “A little warning next time, yeah? Give a bloke some time to prepare.”
“Ah, come on. Where’s the fun in that?” I giggle, stroking his face and pushing his hair back. I take a long look at him. “You’re beautiful too, Mason. Your heart and your body. Your soul. I’m so lucky.”
His eyes appear dimmer as he stares back at me. A dulled shadow passing over him.
Maybe he feels drugged too?
“Sweet girl, come on.”
He scoops me up and carries me into the bedroom, my bare feet kicking out. He strips off my dress and we both clean up between kisses and lingering touches.
“Will that come out I hope?” Mason tightens his belt and watches me rinse my dress in the bathroom sink. Our gazes lock in the mirror. He looks regretful. “Really, really sorry.” He bends down and kisses the side of my head.
I smile, wringing out the material and turning off the water. “I’m going to get it dry-cleaned. That’ll be a fun stain to illuminate on.” I pretend I’m handing off the garment. “My boyfriend got a little excited during anal. Can you press this for me?”
Mason rubs at his face, groaning.
Lord, his embarrassment is adorable.
I laugh and elbow his stomach as I move past him.
“Wanna watch a movie? We can order take-out and stay in.”
He nods. “Yeah, all right. What movie?”
“I don’t care. I have a bunch out there in my room if you wanna look. There’s more out by the T.V.”
I throw my dress over the shower curtain rod so it will dry. I can drop it off at the cleaners tomorrow when I go to work.
“I’m just going to use the bathroom and then I’ll be out.”
He jerks his chin and steps out into my bedroom, pulling the door closed behind him.
I use the toilet, looking up at my dress.
My boyfriend got a little excited during anal.
Or . . .
The man I want to spend forever with got a little
excited during anal.
Mm, yes. I like that better.
After washing my hands, I stand in front of the bathroom mirror and run my fingers through my messy hair. It looks lifeless. I tug on the ends and my curls spring back. I twist the front pieces. A sticky substance clings to the pads of my fingers.
“What the . . .” I hold my hand in front of my face, grimacing. “Really?”
I grab my shampoo out of the shower. Gathering my hair over one shoulder, I bend over the sink and scrub my ends, rinsing out the suds and semen.
Only you, Brooke. Only you would get cum in your hair after spending hours styling it.
I laugh when I think about Mason finding out he got his spunk in my hair.
Would he be as apologetic as he was for my dress?
I towel dry the ends a bit so they aren’t dripping and tuck the front pieces behind my ears. I pinch my cheeks and apply some chapstick from the drawer before padding out into my room.
“Finding anything? I’m in the mood for something funny,” I yell out, grabbing a new pair of panties out of my dresser and slipping them on.
Mason doesn’t answer. He’s probably engrossed in whatever it is he picked out.
I open another drawer and pull out a pair of linen shorts and a tank, tossing them on my bed. I apply another layer of vanilla body lotion to my arms, legs, and neck before getting dressed and moving through the doorway.
Mason’s back is to me as he stands beside the couch, blocking my view of the T.V., the remote in his hand.
Nothing is playing. At least I don’t hear anything.
Why didn’t he answer me?
I come up behind him and slide my hands around his waist. His body tenses.
“Hey,” I whisper. “Pick something out?”
“Yeah, sure did.” He quickly steps out of my arms and moves beside me, freeing up my sight. “Care to explain this?”
Startled at his abrupt pull-away and the tone icing his voice, I glance up at the T.V., at the stilled image of myself, naked and straddling another man. The camera angled on me from the side.
I remember setting it on the hamper before I crawled on the bed.
Fuck, I forgot about this.
Fuck! How much has he watched?
“You made a sex tape, Brooke? Are you fucking kidding me?” His voice booms through the condo, echoing off the ceiling.
