by Ali Parker
We finished eating. I wasn’t interested in dessert. I had other ideas in mind. “I’m ready to go home,” I told her.
“Okay, sure. Are you feeling okay?” she asked with real concern.
“Adelaide, I’m fine. I promise you, I’m fine. Let’s go back to my place,” I suggested.
She didn’t look so sure. “Mason,” she started, reaching across the table and taking my right hand in hers. “I really want to be with you, but I can’t do that in good conscience. You’re hurt, like seriously hurt.”
“Let’s go to my place. I’ll show you my bruises and maybe you can kiss them all better,” I suggested.
She smiled. “I might be interested in doing that.”
I paid the check and we headed for the valet. I was anxious to get her home. I wasn’t sure how much she’d be up for, but I wanted her in my bed. I wanted to show her where I lived. It was my home and I wanted to invite her in. It was the equivalent of inviting her into my life—all the way in. It was my inner domain, a place only my family had seen.
I drove home, a little nervous about her seeing where I lived. I knew she realized I had money, but I always felt like I acted down-to-earth. I didn’t think I was pretentious, but maybe I was. I pulled into the parking garage, parked, and turned to look at her. She seemed nervous.
“Ready to go up?” I asked her.
She sighed, nodding. “I am.”
I slid out of the car and then went around to open her door. We walked in silence to the elevator and the entire ride up to my apartment. I kept my hand on the small of her back as we moved down the hallway. I paused at the front door and turned to face her. I reached up and put my hand on her cheek. I lowered my mouth to hers, kissing her gently before unlocking the front door.
I pushed it open, moving to the wall panel and turning on the lights. I heard her sharp intake of breath and immediately felt guilty. I had no reason to feel guilty, but I did. I turned to take in her expression, almost afraid to see her reaction.
“Can I get you a beer?” I asked her.
“Sure,” she said, walking inside the large living room that was probably as big as her entire apartment.
I walked to the fridge and grabbed a couple of cold beers before joining her in the living room. She was staring out the windows, the city skyline providing a pretty view.
“Here,” I said, opening it before handing it to her.
“Your apartment is gorgeous. I have a hard time imagining you living here,” she said with a small laugh.
“Me too. Maybe that’s why I’m gone so much.”
“You don’t like it?”
“I do, I definitely do, but sometimes it makes me feel like one of my brothers. I do like comfort and I like space and I love the view. I had a decorator take care of furnishing the place. I know it looks kind of stuffy, but it’s comfortable,” I told her, almost feeling like I had to defend myself for living in an expensive home.
“Mason, I love your apartment. I don’t begrudge you for using your money to buy nice things. Please don’t think that.”
I shrugged. “I guess I do think that a little. Before, when you hated me, you made it pretty clear you thought I squandered money.”
She turned to face me, stepping in close and raising her face to look at me. “I’m sorry. I judged you and that wasn’t cool. I see now that you are different.”
“Fair enough,” I whispered, not able to stop myself from kissing her.
I had been staring at her lips all night. I needed to taste her. I pressed my lips against hers. What was supposed to be a sweet kiss immediately transformed into something far more intense. I stepped back, taking the beer from her hand, and quickly walked to put the bottles on the coffee table. She was staring at me, her lips red and moist from my kiss as I stalked back toward her.
My good arm wrapped around her waist, yanking her body close to mine. I ignored the pain that shot through my side and kissed her again. Her kisses really did make everything all better. Her hands went into my hair, loosening the gel I had used to hold my hair back away from my face. She was breathing hard when she stepped back, holding her hand against my chest.
“We do this my way. I know you’re sore and I don’t want to hurt you,” she said.
I nodded. “You can have your way with me.”
“Good, show me where your bedroom is.”
I grabbed her hand and led her down the wide hallway, pushing open the double doors that led to my master suite. My huge four-poster bed was pushed against one side of the room. There was a seating area in the corner in front of one of the windows. I moved to dim the lights, but she stopped me.
“Lights it is,” I said with a smile, more than happy to look upon her body.
“I need to see what I’m working with,” she replied with a small laugh.
“It’s hard to miss.” I grinned, making her giggle some more.
She reached out, gently caressing over the bulge in my pants. “Damn straight it is. Now, listen up, mister,” she started.
I raised an eyebrow. “You have some rules?”
She nodded. “I do. I’m going to have sex with you, but I’m in charge. You’re injured and I probably shouldn’t be doing this, but truth be told, I’m horny as hell. I want you and I’m confident I can use your body without causing you any harm.”
“Fuck it. Hurt me, baby. I’m up for anything,” I vowed.
“I won’t hurt you, but I am going to make you scream,” she promised in a sultry voice.
Chapter 38
Adelaide
I kept telling myself I was being horribly selfish. I had no business having sex with a man who had been in a very serious motorcycle accident days earlier. He was bruised and stiff and the bandage on his arm was a constant reminder of his injuries. I would be very careful, I promised myself.
“First, I’m going to take off your clothes,” I told him, reaching out to undo the buttons of his shirt.
He dropped his chin, watching me work the first button and then the second. His hands wrapped around my wrists. “Too slow.” He grunted, and in a move I had thought was only meant for cheesy soap operas, he yanked his shirt open, buttons flying.
“Wow. That was intense. That made me wet,” I told him, being perfectly honest.
“I know what else will make you wet.” He breathed, reaching around and squeezing my ass.
I pushed him away, slowly shaking my index finger at him. “Nope. My way or no way.”
He groaned. “You’re killing me.”
“Not yet. I’m going to take off your pants. Keep your hands to yourself,” I ordered him.
He groaned, holding his arms out to his side. I quickly undid his pants and pushed them down his body. He stepped out of them, standing in his briefs and the white T-shirt he’d worn under his dress shirt. We both knew what I was going to see. I was almost afraid I would stop when I saw the evidence of his injuries.
I bit the bullet and very carefully lifted the shirt over his head. I winced, unshed tears springing to my eyes as I stared at the massive bruise covering a good portion of his side. I could see the slow pace was hurting him. I let him remove the shirt his way before I moved to pull off his briefs.
“It doesn’t hurt,” he said.
“Bullshit. Get on the bed,” I ordered, determined to make him forget all about his injuries.
“I’m not going to turn that down, but I’m okay,” he assured me.
I took off my dress and bra while he got comfortable on the bed. I noticed a large purple bruise on his hip and several smaller ones dotted all over his body. I very carefully climbed onto the bed next to him, staying on my knees as my fingers reached out to barely brush over the deep-purple bruise on his ribs.
“Mason,” I said his name on a half sob.
It was hard not to be emotional looking at the bruises that told the story of his body going through something very traumatic.
“I’m okay,” he said again.
I bent over, giving
the most serious bruise a very light kiss before I moved my mouth to what felt like hundreds of bruises and scrapes all over his body. I had been foolish to believe the injuries were isolated to one side. By the time I had finished kissing him from ankle to head, we were both panting with need.
I peppered a trail of kisses over his flat stomach, following the trail of brown hair that led me to the jutting erection. I grabbed him, wrapping my fingers around the thick shaft and looked up at him. The bright light stole away some of the intimacy but added to it at the same time. The fact I was wearing nothing more than a skimpy thong and working over his nude body in the harsh glare of some very bright lights showed real trust in my opinion.
I closed my mouth over the engorged head. I heard him suck in a breath and knew it was pleasure and not pain that had him struggling to breathe regularly. I slid my mouth over his length, taking him deep in my throat, bobbing up and down and listening to him grunt and groan with pleasure. I took him to the edge, stopping when I felt him on the verge of climaxing. I wanted to drag it out.
“Stop,” he ordered.
I looked up at him, his dick in my mouth. His face was twisted in what looked like pain, but I knew it was him on the edge, needing release. I slowly pulled my mouth away, dragging my teeth over him before I knelt beside him.
“I wasn’t finished,” I said, wiping my mouth.
“I want to be inside you.” He groaned.
“No,” I told him.
He sat up, wincing in pain. “I’m not fucking broken.” He growled, yanking the string on my panties hard and tearing them from my body.
I gasped, shocked by his show of strength. I had been under the impression he was weak and broken. I had been very wrong.
“Mason, I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Lie down,” he ordered.
I gulped down the lump of desire in my throat and stretched out alongside his good side, the side that was relatively uninjured. He rolled over, his hand going between my legs and shoving them open.
“This isn’t—” I started to protest.
“This is happening.” He growled, moving his fingers over me, before sliding one inside me.
I cried out. My body was primed and ready for him. I didn’t want to come first. I wanted to pleasure him, but like always, he was pleasuring me.
“You.” I moaned. “I want you.”
“And you’re going to have me, but I want you wet and throbbing with need.” He hissed.
“I mean, this is for you,” I said, dragging out the word as his finger slid in deep before circling my clit.
“This is for me. Watching you orgasm is what turns me on. I want to watch your eyes close and your mouth open, and I want to hear those sexy whimpers as you lose control,” he said, his voice husky.
I couldn’t concentrate on what he was saying. I was too caught up in the throes of ecstasy, on the verge of falling apart. “Okay.” I murmured the only word I could form in that moment.
He pushed his finger deep inside me, nearly sending me over the edge. I moaned, pushing him away, and very carefully, I crawled over the top of him. I looked down, seeing the intense look on his face and knew he was close to finding his release. I promised myself not to drag it out. I’d stay on my knees and did my best to be gentle with his damaged body.
His hands were on my hips as I guided him to my entrance. I very carefully and oh so slowly slid my body over his, taking him deep inside me until he had filled me completely. I balanced on my knees, keeping my weight off his body as I began to move back and forth.
We were both so close that I knew it wouldn’t take much to send us over the edge. I moaned, dropping my head back and focusing on him inside me. His good hand stretched out, grabbing my breast and squeezing. It shattered the self-control I had been barely holding on to. I screamed, my body shattering over him. I heard him shout and knew he had found his own pleasure. I concentrated on keeping my weight off him, but it was hard. I wanted to collapse on his chest and squeeze him in my arms.
I couldn’t. Not yet. I dropped beside him. My body was still trembling as I struggled to catch my breath. “Damn,” I whispered.
“No shit. I didn’t realize it could hurt so bad and feel so good at the same time,” he muttered.
I was instantly on alert, rolling to my side and putting a hand to the massive bruise on his rib cage. “Are you okay? Did I hurt you?”
“No. God no. It was good, way too good. My muscles are a little sore. I tensed up and flexed those injured muscles. Don’t you dare tell me you won’t do that again,” he grumbled.
“I won’t do it again until you are healed.”
“Bullshit. I’m not waiting that long.”
I laughed, leaning down to drop a kiss on his lips. “We’ll talk about it later. I don’t want to risk breaking your ribs.”
He chuckled softly, tucking me against his side. I tried not to touch him afraid I would inadvertently touch one of the many bruises mottling his body. I gave him another kiss on his jawline. “You are crazy. No man would go through what you went through and want to have sex.”
“Any man who had you in his bed would absolutely want to have sex, no matter what they had been through,” he retorted.
I sat up, climbing out of bed and walking naked to turn off the light before grabbing the blanket at the foot of the bed and pulling it over us. I very carefully tucked it around him before snuggling against his side, making sure my hand was draped over his hips rather than his bruised ribs.
“Go to sleep. You need your rest,” I ordered.
“I wasn’t going to ask for a round two, not this time,” he said.
I could hear the pain in his voice. “I’m not having sex with you until those bruises are gone,” I said firmly.
“Bullshit.”
I burst into giggles. The man was too stubborn for his own good. He would kill himself with sex if I let him. I sighed with contentment and thought about everything that had transpired in the last week. I could not stop reliving the moment Deanna had told me Mason had been in an accident. I knew I had fallen hard for him. The very instant I realized he could have been taken from me forever, I realized I was in deep. I had been furious about the woman because I’d been too damn stubborn to let myself listen to his explanation. I had decided then I wouldn’t be so quick to judge. I couldn’t afford to.
Mason was alive and relatively well, and I was not going to squander that blessing. I wanted him in my life and would cherish every minute I had him.
“Good night,” I whispered.
“Good night. I’m fine,” he mumbled, already half asleep.
I laughed softly. “I didn’t ask.”
“But you were thinking it.”
I rolled my eyes, hating that he could read me so well, even when he wasn’t looking at me, he knew what I was thinking. It was scary to realize someone knew me that well. It meant he’d wormed his way into my life and if he was to be ripped away from me, I would suffer dearly. I hated that vulnerable feeling. I pushed it aside, committed to living in the moment and not worrying about tomorrow.
Chapter 39
Mason
I woke up, feeling Adelaide’s warm breath brushing across my chest. It felt right to have her in my bed. I ran my fingertips over her exposed shoulder, listening to the sounds of her breathing. She sounded completely dead to the world. I was going to spoil her today. She said she had the day off and I planned on spending the whole day with her, assuming she didn’t have any plans. If she did, I would convince her to cancel them.
I carefully moved away from her, doing what I could to make sure not to wake her. I wanted her to sleep in. She worked six days a week, getting up early to work in her coffee shop. She deserved a day to sit around and do nothing at all. The caveman part of me wanted to take care of her. I knew she would probably cringe at the idea, which was why I was going to have to be sneaky about how I did it.
I used the bathroom before fishing out a pair of briefs and moving to
the kitchen to start some coffee. I looked down at my bare chest, the ugly bruising over my left side was turning colors, fading in some areas but still holding strong where the worst of it had been. I thought about the sweet attention Adelaide had given each of those bruises and smiled. The pain of the accident had almost been worth it with the attention she was giving me. I pulled open the fridge, looking for something quick and easy for breakfast. I wanted to make her breakfast in bed.
I wasn’t a cook, but I could scramble eggs and put bread in the toaster. With a plate arranged for her, I carried it along with a cup of coffee into the dark bedroom. I found myself in a bit of a pickle with no free hands to turn the lights on. I moved to the side of the bed, putting the coffee down before going back to turn the lights on low. No reason to blind the woman.
“What time is it?” she mumbled, her voice groggy.
“Just after eight,” I told her.
Her eyes opened wide. “Eight?” she said with surprise, struggling to get to her elbows.
“Yes.”
“I—wait—today’s Sunday,” she said, her eyes closing again.
“It is. I made you some breakfast and coffee,” I told her.
Her eyes opened again. “You did?”
“I did.”
She sat up, smiling as she looked at the plate heaped with eggs and a few pieces of toast. “Mason, that’s a lot of food. Tell me this is for both of us.”
I looked at it, not intending it to be for the two of us, but quickly realized it was a rather large portion of food for a small woman. I had gotten a little carried away in my excitement to make her a meal. “I’ll go grab a fork,” I said, dashing out of the bedroom.
When I returned, I nearly bowled her over. She had put on my shirt that I’d been wearing the night before and was walking out of the room.
