I woke up to a dark room with something wet between my legs. It took only a second for sleep to evaporate from my brain and to realize it was Mason’s tongue.
His hands were holding my thighs open. The robe I had fallen asleep in was barely covering my nude body.
“Mason,” I groaned, pushing up onto my elbows. His bold green eyes flickered to mine, reminding me of a feline in the night.
A wicked smile had his mouth tilting up at the corners. Keeping his gaze locked with mine, he suckled my clit into his mouth and slid three rough, callused fingers into me, curling them up towards my sweet spot. His movements suddenly turned rapid and hard.
“Mas—” his name died on a sharp gasp. I dropped my head back to the pillow and fisted the sheets. I tried to say his name again and wound up moaning loudly instead.
The tip of his tongue battered my swollen nub and his fingers continued their rough delving in and out of me. He let one of my thighs go to push down on my lower stomach, right above my G-spot, magnifying my pleasure.
Something was happening, something…different. I didn’t understand what it was until it no longer mattered. A dizzying pressure exploded inside me and a sound that was inhuman tore from my throat. Something streamed from between my legs and it wasn’t until I lay trembling and trying to breathe again that I realized what had happened.
The sheets were soaked.
Mason gave me no time to feel embarrassed about it; he was lifting my hips and driving into me before I could utter a single word.
I came again on a soundless scream, digging my nails into his forearms. His bare chest was wet, and when he leaned down to savagely attack my mouth I could taste myself all over his face. This wasn’t sex; this was primal fucking.
His fingers dug into my flesh so hard I knew I’d be bruised. Our teeth clashed and I found myself grabbing at his broad back.
When he finally found his release, the mattress was hanging off the bed frame and we were both drenched in sweat. Still inside me, he propped himself up with one arm and used his other to brush damp strands of hair out of my face. His chest rose and fell in silence. He was looking at me with such intensity I felt my cheeks start to heat.
I’d licked this man’s come from the floor and still felt impossibly coy around him at times.
I stared up at him in awe. How was it possible to love someone irrevocably, and whole-heartedly despise them at the same time?
This tortured, sadistic man had managed to pull my heart from my chest, and now held the bloody organ hostage. In its place was a hole he was slowly filling with everything that was him, sinking me further into his sea of darkness.
My resolve threatened to crumble right then, before I could even attempt to find my backbone for once. Love him or hate him, he owed me answers, and I was determined to get them.
At breakfast, it was just Mason and I. The large home was quite and no one else was in sight.
As I devoured my scrambled eggs under his watchful eye, I briefly wondered if I should feel guilty that Annie was somewhere being hurt. On a positive note, at least I wasn’t on my back anymore, being taken to depths of pleasure that should have been illegal.
The whole morning had my emotions playing tug-of-war, pushing and pulling in two completely different directions.
Sitting at the table, him working and me enjoying a delicious meal, made me see that we were just like everyone else.
It was the extracurricular activities that made us differ. I studied Mason from the corner of my eye. He was so stylish, eloquent, and handsome. You truly could never know who was a killer and who wasn’t.
“Mason,” I softly said to draw his attention from his iPhone screen.
His green hues immediately locked with my blue ones. I hated that he could trap me with a single look. I was well aware how unhealthy this—whatever this was between us—had become. Was becoming. There was home in his eyes, but he kept setting fire to my heart.
You want a killer—period. Accept it.
Rolling my lips, I told myself I would never be enough for a man like Mason, so it wasn’t worth debating in my head. It didn’t matter how unhealthy this was.
Clearing my throat, I opened my mouth to broach what I hoped wasn’t a sensitive subject, but he interrupted me.
“You can’t get pregnant,” he said, not batting an eye at my surprised expression.
“How did you know what I was going to say?”
“I know you.” He shrugged. “And before you ask, I had an implant put in your arm the night you came with me. That’s why the cotton was there.”
I knew I could either be upset or be relieved. I tried not to let the second emotion broadcast on my face, but it was too late—he saw it. The same look I’d seen before, that almost seemed like hurt, flashed across his face again.
“Don’t worry, Katie-Kat. When I want you pregnant, you’ll know.”
“You said when I found my sister I could go home,” I reminded him.
“And did you somehow think me sending you home would free you?”
He tucked his phone into his pocket and gave me his undivided attention.
I hadn’t thought much beyond the words go home. I suppose it was naïve of me to think Mason would simply give me up. Even more naïve was the ridiculous part of me that didn’t want him to.
Not wanting to dwell on those thoughts, I wiped my mouth with a napkin and told him I was ready to go.