by V. T. Do
I let out a small squeal when I found myself draped across his shoulder and carried up the stairs. I grabbed onto the back of his shirt, laughing a little, and Mason slapped my ass.
“Hey!” I said, reaching back to rub the tender spot. “That hurt.”
He laughed. And when we finally reached the master bedroom, Mason flung me onto the bed. I bounced a little and glared at him. Though I didn’t hold that expression for long.
Mason was stripping out of his shirt and, like every time he stripped, I was dumbfounded by all that golden tan skin on display.
My mouth watered, and Mason smirked.
“Strip, baby. I want you naked by the time I’m done.”
I could only nod. My hands shook a little as I removed my shirt. Then my bra. Mason’s eyes started to smolder, and I had to suppress a slight shudder.
By the time I got my jeans and panties off, Mason was already naked, his erection straining. I licked my lips and Mason groaned. Then he grabbed the head of his cock and squeezed, way harder than I ever dared to squeezed.
“Lay back down on the bed and spread your legs for me. I want to see your greedy little cunt.”
I let out a small whimper from his words, and did as he asked.
Mason’s eyes zeroed in on my drenched pussy as he continued to stroke himself with a long, hard stroke. “Touch yourself, baby.”
Slowly, I moved my hands between my legs. The first swipe of my thumb against my clit nearly had me jumping off the bed. I didn’t realize I was so sensitive there. I moved my fingers down, across my opening and gathered up all the wetness before moving back to my clit.
My hips thrusted upward, and I knew my movements were sloppy and unpracticed, but I didn’t care. It felt so good. Especially when I looked back at Mason and realized he never moved his gaze away from me.
“That’s it, baby. Rub a little harder, we both know how much you like it when I do that.”
I groaned and did as he asked, pretending that it was him touching me. I pushed up a little higher, angling my leg to change the position.
I was close, which was surprising because it usually took me a lot longer than this to reach the edge by myself. But I was almost there.
Just a little more…
“Enough, Olivia.”
I whimpered in protest and Mason smiled wickedly. “Don’t you want to come when I’m inside of you?”
Oh, God, did I ever want it.
“Yes,” I said, my voice sounding strained.
Mason crawled into the bed, laying himself on top of me. I sucked in sharp breath when I felt the head of his erection brush against the inside of my thighs, a slight dampness there caused by precum.
I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him down for a searing kiss. Mason wrapped his arm around my waist and pulled me in closer to him, deepening the kiss.
And when he plunged inside of me, I let go of his mouth and gasped at the feeling of fullness.
We looked into each other’s eyes as he moved inside of me, my fingernails digging into his skin, leaving my mark. Nothing had ever come close to feeling as good as it did when he was inside of me. Like flying and falling all at the same time.
“You feel so good, Olivia,” he grunted again, his movements becoming almost frantic.
I bit my lip and clenched around him, wanting more. Just more. He moved faster, harder.
My eyes closed, and my back arched, and I knew it wouldn’t be long before I came. Even now, I could feel the tremors convulsing through me, could feel my heart pounding, could feel the drop to my stomach, and the tingling sensation in my back.
“Come for me, baby,” he said, his voice strained. I opened my eyes and took him in once more. Sweat coated his skin, and his cheeks were flushed, his eyes nearly dark.
He kept moving, his stomach pushing against mine, and a moment later, I fell.
I screamed his name and loved how rough his movements became as soon as he felt me come. It prolonged my orgasm, and he swelled right before he came, his muscle spasming beneath my touch.
We were both breathing heavily when we came back down, and Mason leaned down to kiss me once more.
I loved the feel of him on top of me. I loved the rise and fall of his chest every time he breathed, and loved his solid form, letting me know that this was real. Achingly real.
Mason gathered me in his arms then and flipped us around until I was lying on top of him. I was too relaxed to move. I didn’t care where he put me, as long as he put me close to him. I looked down at him and smiled.
He cupped my cheek. “Alright?”
I let out a small laugh. “Do you really have to ask?”
He smiled wide, his blue eyes dancing. “No, I suppose not. I’m really happy you’re here with me, Livie.”
“Me, too,” I said, laying me head back down to his chest, listening to his heartbeat. Mason ran his hand up and down my back, and I was almost lulled to sleep before he shifted.
“Let’s get you cleaned up and I’ll make you something to eat.”
I smiled against his skin, leaning down to kiss the soft skin there. “You’re cooking?”
“Yeah. How does spaghetti sound?”
I let out a sigh. “Heavenly.”
As if on cue, my stomach grumbled. Mason laughed and pulled me off of him. His cock slid out of me, and I held back a shiver, still sensitive. And when we looked down and found his come leaking out of me, Mason groaned while I blushed.
He rubbed his fingers in circles around my pussy, and I let out stuttering breath. God, that felt good.
“I love seeing my come on you.”
“That’s because you’re too possessive,” I said playfully.
“Oh, baby. Trust me, when it comes to you, there’s no such thing as being too possessive. How do you feel?” he asked, as he inserted in two fingers inside of me. I automatically clenched around him.
He moved a little, and I could feel myself getting wet again. I looked up and met his eyes, eyes that were gleaming wickedly, right before he pulled out of me and climbed off the bed.
“Hey,” I protested.
He shot me a playful smile. “Later. Let me feed you first.”
“But I’m not hungry for food.”
“Yeah, I think your grumbling stomach says differently.”
“Well, my stomach is a pussy-blocker. We shouldn’t listen to it.”
Mason threw his head back and laughed. And even though I was disgruntled over the loss of an orgasm, I couldn’t help but smile. I love it every time I made him laugh, mostly because he didn’t do it often.
“Don’t worry, I’ll make it up to you,” he said, a dark smile on his face. I watched him walk away from me and toward the bathroom, loving the full view of his delectable ass.
He was beautiful, and I thoroughly enjoyed the sight.
When he came back with a washcloth in hand, I knew what he wanted me to do. So I laid back down and spread my legs. He crawled in between them and sat on his haunches, wiping the damp cloth over the tender flesh between my legs.
“You know I can clean myself,” I mumbled, my cheeks tight with both embarrassment and arousal. I didn’t think I could ever get used to this kind of aftercare.
“Yes, I know you could. But I like taking care of you, so humor me why don’t you.”
“Well, considering what you’re doing right now, I’d say I am.”
He chuckled. “Yes. “
After he was done, he threw the cloth on the floor and climbed off the bed. I watched as he pulled on black sweatpants from the dresser before turning to me, shirtless. My eyes devoured all his muscles on display. Mason wasn’t just big, he was muscular. And I couldn’t get enough.
“Don’t look at me like that, baby.”
“Like what?” I asked innocently.
His eyes were once again dark with hunger as he took in every square inch of my naked body, a small half-smile forming on his face.
“Come downstairs when you’re ready. I’l
l get started on our meal.”
I bit my lip and nodded. He leaned down and kissed me once more, and I couldn’t help but wrap my arms around his neck, pulling him close and prolonging the kiss.
Mason was the first to pull away. “Later,” he promised.
“I’ll hold you up to that,” I said, my voice breathless.
I laid there in the bed, not moving a muscle as I listened to Mason downstairs, contentment filling me.
If only we could stay like this forever.
If only I could always feel how I was feeling now. But then, like cold water on sleepy skin, my ringing phone clashed through the fog of contentment and reality pushed itself in.
I climbed off the bed and searched for my phone in my jeans pocket.
I knew who was calling me before I even looked at the screen. He had been calling me more and more frequently over the past week.
Sometimes, I wished he would just give up.
Other times, I was afraid he might if I kept ignoring him.
I was nothing more than a mess of contradicting emotions, and I just wanted it to stop.
I picked up my phone and stared at the screen as it continued to ring, indecision pulling at me. But I didn’t pick up. Besides, even if I decided to, I couldn’t talk to my dad while I was sitting, naked, in Mason’s bedroom, with him only downstairs in the kitchen.
How would I explain all these phones calls I’d been getting?
He would probably tell me that I was better off without my dad? Without any of my parents? And while that might be true, I couldn’t say I wouldn’t forgive my mom if she suddenly decided to come back. I had been angry with her, but I wasn’t anymore. Couldn’t I extend the same courtesy to my dad?
I didn’t know.
The phone stopped ringing after a few moments, letting me off the hook, at least for a little while longer. I let out a small sigh and threw the phone on the bed.
Out of sight, out of mind, and all that.
Yeah, right.
I needed to get downstairs soon. Mason would start questioning why I was taking so long up here.
Slowly, I climbed off the bed, searching for my clothes.
My panties were dirty, and putting them on held no appeal, so I threw them in the dirty laundry basket under the sink, and pulled on my jeans and one of Mason’s T-shirts.
I brought the shirt up to my nose and sniffed, loving the way his scent still clung to the fabric. I took a step toward the door but paused when I heard something.
No, not something… someone.
Someone other than Mason.
My eyes widened in horror when I realized the other voice belonged to Max.
47
Mason
I pulled out the ingredients from the fridge to make spaghetti. I think I had perfected the art of making it since Max told me it was her favorite.
I liked that I was able to do these things for her, even if it meant something as simple as cooking. My eyes quickly moved upstairs, wondering what she was doing and what was taking her so long to come down. I had heard the ringing of a phone, so perhaps Lizzie called.
Turning back to all the food I had set down on the island, I started chopping onions.
It wasn’t until I got the pan out that I heard the front door unlocking before opening. I frowned. Surely Olivia wasn’t leaving.
No, she wasn’t leaving. Someone was coming in.
I quickly wiped my hands on the tea towel nearby and walked out to the entryway. When I saw Max standing there, shaking snow off his hair, my fist clenched.
“Max, what are you doing here?”
I shouldn’t have given him my house key. But I had Max’s house key, and if I didn’t give him one, he would want to know why. I couldn’t very well explain it was because I didn’t want him to walk in on Olivia and me.
“Can’t I visit my little brother?”
“Of course, you can. With a little notice before,” I said, my voice tight. I hoped my face didn’t betray me. How would I explain Olivia’s presence in this house?
And suddenly, I was tired. So goddamn exhausted, I just wanted it all to stop.
I didn’t want to keep secrets anymore, not from the two people I loved most. Not from Max, and certainly not from Olivia.
Max took me in, and I knew the moment he realized I wasn’t alone. It was in the way his eyes brightened.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt. Is she upstairs?”
I nodded. What more could I say? He looked happy that I was seeing someone. How he would feel differently when he discovered the identity of that person.
“Is she important? I mean, she must be if you’re bringing her to your new house.”
“Yes, Max. She’s important,” I said quietly.
So, so important.
His eyes brightened even more, if that was possible, and my heart felt like someone had wrapped a tight fist around it. I rubbed my chest absently, while he shot me a smile. “I’m glad. It’s been a while since you’ve been in a serious relationship.”
I didn’t think I had ever been in a serious relationship before Olivia, no matter what Max thought. I knew he was thinking about the last time we had this conversation, about a toxic relationship I was getting into.
“You know, for a second, I thought…” he trailed off with a shake of his head. “Never mind. That’s not important.”
“What?”
“It’s nothing. When will I get to meet her?”
“Perhaps another time,” I said. As much as I wanted to come clean with my brother, I didn’t want to blindside Olivia with it. “I’m making her dinner.”
He mocked salute me. “Okay, okay. I know when I’m not wanted. Perhaps I’ll take Olivia to dinner. I wonder where she’s at,” he said the last part to himself, and the uncomfortable feeling in my chest grew.
Max made a move to turn and walk away, but something must have caught his eye because he paused. A moment of hesitation, and then he was walking back into the house, and I didn’t know why, until I figured out where he was headed.
The K.H. Knight painting.
Panic filled my heart, but I stayed where I was, not wanting Max to see what I was feeling.
He traced the artist’s signature with his index finger, and we didn’t say anything for a long while.
He knew.
I knew he did.
My shoulders sagged, and when he turned around to look at me, there was a storm of emotions displayed in his—eyes similar to my own.
Without another word, he made his way into the kitchen. I silently followed him and watched as he took in all the ingredients of a spaghetti dinner for two.
Olivia’s favorite.
“Is she upstairs?” he asked calmly.
“Yes.”
He made a move to go upstairs when I blocked his way. His eyes darkened with anger as he took me in. “Move. I am taking her home with me.”
“You’re not going up there until I make sure she’s decent.”
That was the wrong thing to say because, with a roar, he came at me, his fists raised.
Even as I braced myself for the hit, I still moved back from the impact. Pain instantly burst through and I cuffed my jaw, taking in my brother.
“You stupid fucker. Does she know?”
My jaw clenched, and I looked away, knowing what he was talking about. I shook my head.
“Of course not. Because if she did, she would hate you.” Pain pinched my chest, because I knew that was true. “What the hell were you thinking? I told you to stay the fuck away from her. I told you she was mine and you go and do this? You seduced her?”
“Max?”
We both turned at the sound of her voice. Her hair was a mess, her eyes swollen and red, and she was wearing my shirt and her jeans. I wanted nothing more than to close the distance between us and gather her in my arms, promising her that everything would be alright.
I couldn’t do that, though, so I stayed where I was, my fist closed around th
e banister, while I watched her take hesitant steps down the stairs.
“Olivia, let’s go home, okay?”
Despite his anger, his voice was gentle with her. I was glad. I didn’t know what I would do if he transferred his anger toward me to her.
She nodded, a look of resignation in her eyes.
When she got to the last step, next to me, she looked up at me expectantly. I knew she wanted me to say something, anything. But I couldn’t. Not when the next time we saw each other, she might not welcome my touch anymore.
Her shoulders sagged in disappointment, and my fist tightened even further around the wooden banister, surprised it hadn’t yet broken with the force of my grip.
Max gathered her in his arms and led her out to the front door, shooting one last scowl my way.
I watched them disappear from my sight until the front door closed quietly behind them, and then my knees gave out.
I sucked in a pained breath, wondering what the hell I was supposed to do now.
I should have told her before it got to this. Before Max found out. And now it was too late. Max would surely tell her the sordid history between Grace, Michael, and me.
And it was as Max said. She would hate me.
As she should.
48
Olivia
Max and I walked quietly to our house.
I tried to gauge his emotions, but his face had been closed off since the moment we left Mason’s. I didn’t know what to make of it. Max had always been a private person, but he was never closed off. Or at least, he wasn’t closed off with me.
I always knew what he was thinking or feeling. Now…
His arms tightened around me when I shivered.
When we got inside, Max led me to the kitchen. He directed me to a barstool and waited until I was seated before he turned around and made tea.
Neither of us said anything while we waited for the water to boil. I nervously tapped my fingers on the kitchen island, looking out the garden window to the cold and lifeless gray sky.
The kettle whistled, and I tensed in my seat. I looked down while Max poured water into two mugs, and only looked up when he slid one my way. I met his eyes, and the disappointment in them nearly had me jumping out of my skin.