Mason
She’s here. Trix, my woman, is sprawled out on my bed in nothing but a pair of panties and smiling at me like I own every fucking inch of her body and she’s begging me to take it.
I want, more than anything, to lose myself inside her, burrow so deep into her soul she’ll never be able to get rid of me. I told myself I’d take it slow: prove to her that I’m not like Lane and fucking Talon. She’s so much more than a piece of ass, and her body is a damn treasure. Any man lucky enough to have it should have to spend a lifetime searching, slowly digging away with patience for the pleasure of making love to her.
She pushes up to her knees and scoots to the end of the bed. I don’t have to think as my feet carry me to her on instinct; the basest most primal need to claim her rides me hard. Her hands go to my waistband, but her violet eyes are on me. She pops the button on my jeans, and the heat of her fingers runs the length of my dick as she slides down the zipper.
I grip her by the hair, pulling her mouth to mine roughly for a quick deep kiss. My forehead rests against hers, and I hold on to barely controlled restraint. “Trix, I want this, you, right now.”
Her hand dips beneath my boxer briefs, and my legs almost give. “Me too. More than anything.” She strokes me, and I grind my teeth together to keep from pumping my hips into her hand.
“Are you sure? I don’t want to push you.” And there’re other reasons why we should slow down, but fuck if I can think of a single one.
Her other hand runs along my hip, around to my ass, and she slides my pants and briefs down my legs. “Then let me push you.”
“Done.” I put a knee on the bed, she falls back with a giggle, and I take my place between her legs. “I want to go easy, but I’m barely hanging on as it is.”
“I don’t want you to go easy, Mase.” She rips her fingers through my hair and pulls my mouth to hers.
We kiss long and hard until I drop to an elbow to free up my hand. Her skin is like silk beneath my fingers as they trace down her belly. I run them slowly back and forth along the hem of her panties, and she nips at my lip in frustration.
A low chuckle vibrates in my throat. “Patience, Beatriks.”
“I’ve never been good at delayed gratification.” Her hips jack up off the bed with a whimper. “Please.”
“Shh . . . I’ve got you.” I tug her panties down, and she makes quick work of kicking them to the floor. The air in my lungs leaves on a whoosh as I take in her naked body. “Fuckin’ hell.”
I run a hand up her thigh, between her legs and—Shit, I’m never gonna make it to sex at this rate. She grips my wrist and holds my hand to her, biting her lip. Her desperation is addicting. I bring her to the edge, playing with her just enough to have her quivering beneath me and rocking against my palm. Warm, wet, and delicate. What I wouldn’t do to feel her against my tongue.
“Hold on.” I reach over to the bedside table and pull a condom from the drawer. Since I moved to Vegas, I’ve only had two women in my bed: drunken one-night stands that left nothing more than hazy memories and guilt in their wake.
Trix watches with wide eyes and parted lips as I roll on the condom, and I hope she’s not thinking about why I have condoms on hand. I want her to feel like she’s the only woman I’ve ever had.
She crawls to her hands and knees, giving me a visual that I know I’ll carry to my grave. “Lie back.” She throws a leg over my hips and straddles me, all her long bi-colored hair falling to brush the tips of her breasts.
With a lift of her ass, she takes me into her body. A low groan slides from her parted lips as she slowly and deliberately welcomes me inch by inch. A vise grip of heat wraps me tight and my abdomen flexes in response.
“Never seen anything so beautiful in my life.” I force myself to loosen my hold on her thighs, will my muscles to relax, and avoid being too rough.
Her palms flatten on my pecs, and she rolls her hips just as I’ve seen her do on stage. Tingles shoot from my dick straight up my spine and make my head swim. She moves again, this time leaning to one side then the other. Like some kind of sexual goddess, she hits every angle with the swivel of her narrow hips.
“Fuck, baby . . .” I want her to stop. The sensations are too much, everything hypersensitive and jacked-up on overdrive. “You need to slow that shit down or—”
“Or what?” She grinds down hard, groaning and tossing her head back.
“Fuck it.” I flip her to her back. “My turn.”
I pull out completely before filling her so deeply her neck arches off the bed. “Oh my . . .”
Again, I slide out and in, allowing her to feel every inch as I press against her. She sucks in a breath, her eyes wide and lost in the sensation. Over and over I move with force but at a pace that’ll keep her wanting. Firm, deep, and slow.
“I could do this all night, baby.” I pull out and glide back in. “All fucking night inside you.” I bend my knee, angle my hips, and grind in deep.
“Oh, Mase…it’s—” She gasps, her legs clamp against my hips, and she throws her head back. My name falls from her lips with the guttural groan of release as she pulsates beneath me. I cushion the top of her head to keep it from banging against the headboard as I power into her, easing her back from her orgasm.
“Whoa.” She sighs with a scratchy voice. Her legs drop from being wrapped around me, and her breathing is labored as I rock into her slowly.
I drop soft kisses on her eyelids, her forehead, and the tip of her nose. “You good?”
A lazy and sexy-as-hell smile pulls at her lips. “So much better than good.”
“Mmm . . . I like hearing that.” I move again, testing her to see if she’s open to more. As much as I’d hate to be done, I’d rather suffer through the blue balls than push her too far.
“Don’t stop.” Her feet hit the bed, and she meets me thrust for thrust.
I hook one of her legs with my arm, getting deeper than I had before and almost coming right then. I don’t want to stop. Ever. Not with Trix.
The powerful need to keep her rides me harder and my pace quickens.
“Yes!” She digs her nails into my arms, scraping down my biceps, and intensifying the tingling at the base of my spine. “Mason, you’re so good, perfect, and mine . . .”
I ignite.
Stars burst behind my eyes, and I bury my face in her neck. My hips jackhammer into her body while my head spins from the euphoric high of her words.
I’m hers.
Fuck, but no truer words have ever been spoken.
I kiss her long and deep, unable to look into her eyes out of fear that I’ll see her regret. “Let me get rid of this.” Pushing up from the bed, I toss one side of the comforter over her and she giggles.
Moving to the bathroom, I blink into the bright light and trash the condom.
Does she mean it? Or is that like telling someone you love them while having sex? I’m almost afraid to ask.
Fuck it. It doesn’t matter. I know she’s it for me.
Trix
Curled up in Mason’s thick down comforter, surrounded by his scent, and with a delicious ache between my legs, I’m grinning like an idiot.
I really, really like this guy. More than I should, but I don’t care.
A tiny voice in my head reminds me that I’m getting sidetracked. I’m not supposed to be dating or having mind-blowing sex with handsome fighters. I’m supposed to be searching for Lana’s killer.
After her body was discovered, the crime scene investigators swept the entire area for clues, but there were none. No fingerprints or DNA on her body or clothes. The only tire tracks were from her car. Best evidence they had to go on was an eyewitness who said they saw Lana’s car pull over to help a motorcyclist. And a card found at the scene.
One card was buried beneath rotting leaves and Lana’s blood.
A VIP card to Zeus’s.
Every decision I’ve made in these last four years has been because of those two things: bikers and Zeus’s.
Every decision, except the one I’m currently basking in the glow of.
Dating and sleeping with Mason is the first thing I’ve wanted to do for me. It’s a little reminder that, under all this revenge and anger, I’m still a person with a beating heart and desires of her own.
And as much as I’d love to set her free, I’d never forgive myself for giving up on Lana.
“Don’t think so hard. It’ll give you a headache.” Mason stalks toward me from the bathroom, and my mind short-circuits as I take in his masculine naked body.
Wide shoulders, bulky arms, and a narrow waist flow into powerful hips. He’s a Michelangelo sculpture. A flash of ink catches my eye. I caught a glimpse of it earlier, but in the heat of it all didn’t think to study it.
On his hip, riding just below where the waistline of his pants would fall, is a tattoo of a wave. Its base is low, touching the outside of his upper thigh, and it curves up to just over his hipbone.
He catches me staring and groans. “Don’t ask.”
“How can I not?” I crawl from my comforter cocoon and meet him at the edge of the bed. “Turn.”
He rolls his eyes, but shifts to the side so I can study it further. On closer inspection, it’s more than a wave. There’s the letter “B,” and the fingers of the wave crashing over it make the number three. “B3.”
“Yeah.” He gathers my body to his and slips us both beneath the covers. “It’s stupid. We were kids at the time and thought it was so badass. I’ve been meaning to get it covered.”
“What is it?”
“The Bone Breaker Brotherhood.”
“Bone Breaker? As in Bone Breaker Alley?”
“Same one. We claimed that break a long time ago. Kept the local surfers protected from the tourists that would come and disrespect them.”
“Howlies?”
He chuckles and kisses the top of my head. “Yeah, howlies.”
“Do all the guys have the same tattoo?”
“Yeah, but most of them have it on a more visible part of their body. I knew I wanted to go to college and wrestle, so I made sure I could keep mine covered. Not a lot of hiding places under a wrestling singlet.”
“Mmm.” I run my hand over his hip. “I like the location. It’s sexy.”
“Fuck it, then. It stays.”
We laugh, and I fight to keep my eyes open. I have no idea what time it is, but this night has exhausted me as much as the stress has probably aged me.
“Trix, baby?”
My eyelids flutter open. “Hmm?”
“I want to take you out of Vegas, just for a couple days.”
“What?” A yawn rips from my throat. “Why?”
“After what happened tonight, it feels like we can’t go anywhere without someone giving us shit.”
“Who says we have to go anywhere? I’m happy right here.”
His fingers draw lazy patterns on my back. “I am too, and we’ll do that as well. Starting this weekend.”
Disappointment settles in my gut. “I can’t this weekend. I’m going home for a few days.”
“Oh yeah?”
“It’s my dad’s birthday, and I try not to miss it.”
“That’s perfect. I need to take care of some shit with my brother. Let’s head up together.”
I tilt my head back, resting my chin on his chest. “Are you serious? You’d do that?”
“Of course. You can do your dad’s birthday, and then we’ll have a couple extra days to hang out. We can go to Cowell.”
“That would be great, except my dad is . . . Well, he’s a pastor, so you can’t stay with me.”
He laughs hard, his body shaking with the force of it. “No shit, Beatriks. I’ll stay with my mom.”
“Okay, but I already got my plane ticket.”
“It’s cool. You give me your flight info, and I’ll see what I can do.”
“Wow, we went from first-time sex to meeting my parents.”
“No, we went from sex, to a sleepover, to meeting your parents.”
My chest warms with the gentleness of his voice, as if everything we’ve experienced so far and will experience in the future means something to him. “Sleepover?”
“Stay with me.” He rolls to his side, positioning my back to his front. “I want to hold you a little longer.”
“Okay, Mason.” I relax, and this time I don’t fight the comfort that consumes me. I don’t try to talk myself out of how right this feels. Being with Mason is as easy as breathing. I don’t allow the guilt to penetrate, and I ignore the voice that tells me I’m selfish.
With a smile on my face, I hold him to me while sleep takes me under, and dreams of a life I never imagined skate through my mind.