CHAPTER TEN
JEANIE
“You want a ride?” Luke calls from the kitchen.
“I’m okay, I’ll just walk like usual,” I answer back, nervous and hoping my voice doesn’t come out as wobbly as I feel.
“You sure? I saw that guy watching you…”
Great, this isn’t awkward.
“I’m okay, promise,” I say, sweeping quickly.
“Oh, she’s better than okay. That man is hot as Hades for you, girl!” Maggie exclaims, making me blush.
She winks at me. “Alright, sweetie, we’re out of here. I’ll trust you got a handle on closing up.”
I nod and she leads Luke out the back. I can hear her shushing his concerns as they do.
I close out the till and prep the coffee pots for the morning rush. All the while, I’m wondering what to do. Is this really what I want? Mason doesn’t meet all the marks on my list, but is that just my way of sabotaging myself?
I’ve never felt this intensely attracted to anyone before. Clint was my only other experience. He sure as heck never got me this bothered and yet his betrayal still hurt. Is it smart to let someone else in? Especially when there is already so much tension between us.
Then again, maybe the fire between us is all the more reason to explore this.
Make up your mind quick. He’s not going to wait all night.
I glance out the window and see him illuminated under one of the green street lights. His hair is unruly, the expression on his face wild. Something about him screams danger and my brain is begging me to take heed.
I don’t want to want him, but I can’t help it. I’m worn down fighting it. Part of me craves that danger, wants to know what lies on the other side.
I lock the front door. The latch clicks behind me. The finality of the sound contrasts the uncertainty within me as I cross the street towards him.
Mason watches me approach. I take a deep breath, but I don’t know what to say. For a moment, we both just stare at each other. We’ve been circling this for how long? It feels like an eternity, like I’ve been driving towards this decision, towards him, forever.
He speaks first, cutting the silence with the rich tones of his voice. “I can walk you home, if you need. I don’t want you to do anything that you don’t want to.”
Meeting his eyes, I admit, “I don’t want to go home.”
His expression changes, his eyes dropping to my lips and his hand lifting to my cheek, the rough warmth of it sending fire into my belly.
“Good, I don’t want you to either,” he says, as he starts to dip his head towards mine.
“Wait!” I blurt out, feeling the rapid beat of my heart as I struggle to find the words.
He looks at me with confusion. “What’s wrong?”
Avoiding his eyes, I pick a dead leaf off his jacket from the basket above. I’m craving his nearness, playing with a button on his suede jacket.
“Well, it’s nothing wrong… That is, I don’t think so. It’s a little embarrassing, and I don’t know, maybe it’ll freak you out, hopefully not. See… the thing is, I’ve been waiting…”
He catches my hand fidgeting with his jacket, holding it in his own as he raises my face to his own.
“It’s okay. Whatever it is, you’re not going to freak me out.”
I swallow. “Okay, well, thing is, I’ve never… well, you know, never ‘gone home’ with anyone. I’m…ack! Why is this so hard?” Just say it. “I’m a virgin.”
He’s silent, his eyes and expression unreadable.
Crap, crap, crap. I screwed it up. No guy wants that kind of pressure… Well, Clint did, but that’s because he was a cocky SOB.
I’m panicking. He’s not saying anything. Heat floods my cheeks, neck, and chest.
“Kind of crazy, huh? So now I’ve weirded you out and humiliated myself…”
But before I can finish the thought he leans down and catches the words in his mouth, surprising me with a soft kiss that sends hot flashes of sensation throughout my body. He drops my hand and pulls me closer to him, the heat of our bodies combining in the cool night air.
My stomach is fluttering and I feel my breathing change. My mind is wiped blank by the tender melding of our lips, awakening a hunger deep within me that suddenly demands so much more.
He pulls back from the kiss and presses his forehead to mine, leaving me feeling a bit loopy.
“I’m not weirded out,” he breathes, looking down at me. “And I can be gentle… the first time.”
The intensity in his eyes and the promise in his voice as he says it sends a chill of excitement up my spine.
Feeling dazed, I let him twine his fingers in mine as we walk towards the shop. The streets are quiet. We walk in silence while his thumb draws circles on the back of my hand, my body reveling in this minor contact.
He leads me behind the shop to the alley and pulls out a set of car keys. I realize I’ve never seen his car.
We round the corner and in the shadows I see a gleaming black car catching the moonlight along its sleek lines. It looks classic and modern at once.
“This is your car?” I breathe, trying not to sound too awestruck.
“It’s an Equus Bass 770. She’s only two years old but made in the style of the classic American muscle cars.”
“It’s gorgeous,” I say, as he opens the passenger door for me.
Closing my door and climbing in to the driver’s seat with lightning speed, he looks over at me. His voice comes out almost sounding raw. “It is now, with you inside.”
With that, he turns the car on. The engine comes to life with a throaty purr. We creep out of the alley onto the silent, empty street.
We drive out towards the west side of town, my hand still tangled with his. We pull up to a cute bungalow on Nelson St. and Mason jumps out to open the door for me. Taking my hand, he leads the way up the short walk to the house.
Unlocking the door, he holds it open for me and flips on a lamp by the door. The faint light illuminates a minimal, but comfortably furnished living room. I’m surprised by how tastefully it’s put together. I look around the room, taking in the clear and apparent quality of the furniture.
I turn around and realize Mason is watching me. My skin feels tingly all of a sudden and I start to say something about how nice it is, but he’s walking towards me now, desire written on his face. The words are lost in my throat.
Placing his hands on either side of my waist, the heat of his palms feels like it could burn right through the fabric of my dress.
“Jeanie… you know you drive me crazy, right?” he mutters, right before he takes my mouth in another kiss.
Unlike the first kiss though, this one picks up with the intensity that the first one had just started to hint at.
Our mouths pressed to one another, I’m lost in the giddiness of it, opening my lips and accepting the invasion of his warm, wet tongue.
I feel the hard length of his body pressing into mine, as he’s walking me backwards. I can’t see where we’re going and, frankly, I don’t care.
His hands are moving up and down my body now, pulling me against him. It’s a frenzied blur as he lifts and carries me through the house, setting me back down against a plush pile of cushions.
Through half-lidded eyes, I realize we’re in his bedroom, moonlight streaming in through the window, breaking up the dark shadows of the room. His body lowers against mine as his hand finds my breast, cupping me through the thin fabric.
This is really happening.
I may not know exactly what I’m doing, but I’ve been dying to feel the hard muscles of his arms, his chest. Mason likes to wear a mechanic’s uniform—boxy button-up jumpsuits, but when it gets warm in the garage he strips off the shirt and goes down to a fitted black tank top. I’ve tried to keep my eyes to myself, but now I can let my eyes and hands take in all they want.
I slide my hand up under his shirt and feel the ripple of muscles along his abs and the sharp inhale of his breath. He stands up and rips the shirt off quickly. I kneel before him on the bed, letting my hands explore and indulge.
Before I get to feel the other parts of him that have my intrigue, he’s lowering me back down to the bed, brushing aside my hair and putting the warm fullness of his lips to my neck, tracing circles with his tongue and setting my nerves on edge.
He’s working at the buttons of my dress, my hands tangled in his hair as his head dips to my chest. My dress is gaping open and my sheer lace bra isn’t hiding much. He pulls back and looks down at me. For a split second, I’m self-conscious.
What if he doesn’t like what he sees?
His face is dappled with light, making his pale eyes gleam with intensity as he breathes. “You’re so fucking beautiful. I’ve been dreaming about seeing you like this, touching you like this, since you first walked into my shop.”
“Aha! I knew it!” I exclaim, but feeling none of the righteous anger about it now that I had before. Instead the knowledge is heating me, knowing that he’s been craving me, that those stolen glances weren’t just in my head.
He’s lowering his head to my chest, to the space between my breasts that are aching for him. I’ve never been kissed there before. Awkwardly, unpleasantly groped by Clint, but that was a distant memory compared to the wet heaven of his kisses.
“Shh, if anyone is going to deliver a tongue lashing, it’s going to be me,” he says, his voice sending hot vibrations across my skin.
My legs are cradling his form and the still buttoned lower half of my dress is bunched in a bundle of fabric at my hips.
I feel his hands slipping down past my hips, long fingers branding my thighs. When his hand meanders to the inside of my thigh, barely grazing the fabric of my panties, my body shudders of its own volition; the wicked thrill of being touched there racing through me like a drug.
His hands leave my thighs and make quick work of my last buttons, pushing my dress completely out of the way. My awareness is focused on the spot where I want him most.
He lifts up slightly, fingers tracing small circles on the tiny swatch of fabric between my legs, and I hear my breath coming in pants. When his finger slips beneath the thin lace and touches the delicate skin, I bite down on my lip at the wonderful sensation. He’s teasing me, tracing the lines of my sex and lowering his head to my chest, licking and laving at my tight nipples through the sheer bra.
Sensation is building within me, climbing towards some peak I haven’t scaled before, don’t know how to reach alone. When his finger slips into the core of me, it’s a shock but a very welcome one.
Gently, he’s stroking me from within, cupping me with the rest of his palm, pressing and rubbing me with the heel of his hand. It feels like too much, too many sensations to identify and I stop tracking all of it, releasing my body into the feeling.
His mouth leaves my breasts and I feel him push my panties down. Part of my brain registers the exposure, but I’m too lost to arousal at this point to process my shyness.
That is, until he lowers his head between my legs, his mouth making contact with my sex. I buck in surprise, at the unfamiliar feeling.
“Uhhh, Mason, what’re you doing?”
“Shhh, trust me…” he purrs against me. I clench my fists, self-conscious and vulnerable.
“I’ve been dying to taste you… You’re so much sweeter, so much softer than I could have imagined,” he says, as he licks my eager pussy, his tongue flat and wet.
Then he dips into me and my body is trembling, shuddering with indescribable feeling. My muscles relax as pleasure washes through me, chasing away my doubts.
I hear myself moan, the husky voice that sounds like someone else, my hips rocking towards him on their own. His fingers fill me once more as his tongue glides up to the apex of my sensation, sucking and stroking. His breath is hot and his mouth is eager. My body is melting into a rising tide of sensation.
And just like that, the wave crashes, shattering me with it, pleasure radiating through my body as my muscles spasm and my mind is wiped blank of everything but this one feeling.
When the pleasure recedes, he shifts over me, the bare skin of his chest grazing my own. I reach behind my back, releasing my bra, enjoying the tickle of his pale chest hair rubbing against my breasts.
We’re kissing again and I hear him muttering my name, and I register the taught tension in his own muscles. I might be a virgin, but I have a fair idea what’s coming.
Cautiously, my hand lowers to the edge of his jeans, my finger tracing the rigid lines of his abs.
He reaches down and unsnaps his pants, pushing the fabric down and freeing himself. I can feel the throbbing length of him against my stomach. My hand slips around him, exploring, and a jolt of panic grips me as I realize just how much of him there is. But the way he’s responding to my touch, the thought is gone as quickly as it came.
We’re kissing again, our breaths mingling in ragged unison and his body is pressing into mine.
His mouth breaks free and he looks down at me, passion raging in his eyes, as he asks, “You sure you want this?”
“Hell yes,” I say, pulling him back into a rough kiss.
One of his hands leaves me and I hear him fumbling around in a drawer beside the bed. Rocking up onto his knees, I watch as he tears open a square wrapper and slips a condom over his rigid shaft, making it look even bigger than before.
I raise my eyes to his and see him watching me with a feral smile.
“Don’t worry,” he mutters, lowering himself towards me.
Feeling defiant, I lie. “I’m not.”
“You’re not as good of a liar as you think,” he laughs, teasing my entrance with his fingers.
“And you think you can tell?” I ask, my breath hitching.
“Let’s just say I’ve got lots of hidden talents,” he says, before taking my breast into his mouth.
His fingers leave me and are quickly replaced by the firm pressure of his hot erection. Slowly, gently, the pressure increases, parting me, invading, and stretching me. The pain is acute as I feel a stinging pop. My breath catches, muscles clenching, and he stills for a moment, cradling me.
I don’t want to move for fear that the pain will come back, but slowly it edges away. Mason shifts slightly and the movement brings a faint pleasure. I relax a little and he begins to move, slowly again, gently filling in me in a way I could never have imagined.
The pleasure mixes with the traces of pain and elevates it. The feeling is entirely foreign and intoxicating as he strokes into me. The soft, careful thrusts slowly becoming more persistent, more demanding, and I raise my hips to his, matching his cadence, following him down this path of unknown pleasure.
Mason’s chest is broad and I grip his muscular shoulders, bracing myself as I accept his surging invasion, my nails digging into the hard planes of his back. I’m panting, throaty sounds escaping into the humid space between us.
One of his hands is tangled in my hair and the light jerking feeling is tantalizing.
“Pull it,” I tell him.
He looks surprised at first then closes his fist, tugging, exposing my throat and feasting. He nips me with his teeth and the sensation brings a guttural moan.
Wanting more, I pull myself forward, rocking up onto my knees and pushing him back onto his haunches. I’m a little uncertain but he seems pleased by my ambition and guides me back onto him. I move slowly at first, getting a hang for the motion, and enjoying the increased contact.
There is a mirror over the dresser on the opposite side of the room and over his shoulder I see myself naked mounted on this Adonis of a man. Something about the sight, so foreign and… naughty, unleashes something in me. I start riding him with frenzied abandon.
He’s sucking and biting at my breasts, both his palms on my butt, gripping me firmly, and I’m bouncing in his lap. Our bodies moving together in this desperate dance, I feel myself pushed towards the edge once more, surrendering to pleasure as I cry out his name and feel myself tightening around him. Slamming into me, Mason joins me with a deep, savage-sounding groan.
In the dark, we collapse together gasping, our bodies remaining tangled. I stare up at the ceiling, mottled with blue moonlight, as my mind struggles to process all the wonder and awe I’m feeling.