His head bent forward again and her lips were captured by his. He pulled away a second later and went for her breasts.
“Mason!” she keened, back bowing off the mattress.
He groaned into her chest, his voice muffled by the suction he had around her nipple. He drew back an inch, just high enough to circle the bud with his tongue. The indents he’d made in her flesh with his teeth glistened in the moonlight with saliva. Then, he lowered his head to her other breast and took the peak into his mouth, sucking it in deep and clamping his teeth around it, hard. She knew she would have marks in the morning, but she didn’t care.
The pain, laced with the sharp stab of pleasure that quickly followed with every swift little flick of his tongue sent her head was reeling, and then, then he released the bite, letting blood rush back into the nipple, sending it tingling and throbbing in such sweet agony that she sobbed, positive she was tearing hairs from his scalp. Her body shuddered. Her hips bucked, rubbing and grinding in time with his as he rode her leg, thrusting his cock against her thigh.
“Still with me, love?”
Julie could only make a strange, choked sound in response. But it seemed to be all he needed as his fingers began to do more than draw lazy circles high up on the inside of her thigh, just an inch away from her pussy. He pinched her clit, tugging on the helpless little nub, then rolling it like a bean between his thumb and index finger. Wave after wave of electricity zapped up her pliant body like lightning through a conductor. She hissed her pleasure, head dropping back in ecstasy.
He growled into her throat, the sound strained as if he were the one in pain.
“Don’t stop!” she hissed through her teeth, knees spreading further apart, as far as they would go.
His chuckle was hoarse. “Don’t think I could even if I wanted to.”
She didn’t ask what he meant by that. Instead, she bit her bottom lip and thrashed her hips against his hand. He took this as the encouragement it was and pushed a finger inside her, fast, without pausing to give her a chance to think, to protest ... to breath. Her eyes snapped open wide, mouth open in a silent cry as her lungs struggled to remember how to exhale or inhale.
He pushed in and out of her body in steady thrusts that had her toes curling against the sheets. Above her, he worked a second finger into her channel, stretching it.
Julie whimpered a little. The coppery tang of blood touched her tongue from the groove she was cutting into her bottom lip.
“All right?” he asked quietly.
She nodded, breathing hard.
“Good,” he said, pressing the pad of his thumb down on her clit, holding it while he twisted and fidgeted inside her, seemingly searching for something against the soft tissues of her walls. “Because I don’t think I can last much longer,” he said, a tremor in his tone that hadn’t been there earlier.
She didn’t ask what he meant. She didn’t care. He was doing something, stroking something, pressing his fingers against something that was sending sparks of gold popping across her vision. But he kept moving over it, brushing it and then moving away. His brows were furrowed with deep contemplation.
“There!” she gasped when he touched it again. Her body rocked unconsciously when he fumbled over it again. “There! It’s there!”
His face lit up with dark triumph. He didn’t speak, made no comment at all, but concentrated on that spot, that sweet, magical spot that was gathering every sense, every breath, every thought and nerve inside her and mashing it into a ball of raw energy that brewed and bubbled deep in the pit of her stomach. A weak, frightened sound escaped her as she fought to rationalize just what he was doing, how he was able to immobilize and set her on fire at the same time. How he was able to set her ears buzzing and her eyes blurring in a sensation of colors.
Whatever he was doing was amazing. It was terrifying and paralyzing, but dear God, she would kill him if he stopped and left her in mindless agony. She clawed at him, imprisoning him to her.
“Don’t stop!” she gasped. “Don’t stop! Oh God, please... Mason... please...!”
His face tightened. The muscles of his jaw twitched. His lips curled, baring tightly clenched teeth. His movement quickened, stroking, thrusting, pressing down on her clit with his thumb, then rolling the swollen muscle, all the while thrusting, rubbing against that spot, that beautiful, beautiful spot. Her vision blurred. Her lungs ached. His face disappeared into the curve of her neck, washing the sensitive skin with his hot, ragged breaths.
“Come on, baby!” he snarled, voice breaking. “Come on!”
He pushed harder against her leg. His body trembled against hers, but his hand remained steady, consistent.
“Mason...” His named choked from her throat, shaky with uncertainty as something seized her, something fierce and dangerous.
“I’ve got you! I’ve got you, Julie!” he vowed savagely, and that was all the reassurance she needed, that and the solid weight of his body crushing her into the mattress like a boulder keeping her from being snatched up and tossed into oblivion.
She crumbled. She broke so hard, so fast that she barely had the sense to sink her teeth into his shoulder before the scream exploded from her chest, ripping up her throat like a ball of nails. His snarl of pain touched a vague spot at the back of her mind, washing away in the indigo waves crashing and rolling over her, slashing her with silken claws of heady frenzy.
She was still freefalling through a cyclone of sweet torture when his fingers vanished from inside her. She grabbed at him, but he was already back in her arms and inside her with a single, powerful thrust that ripped her sanity all over again and she wailed. The crippling burn of pain and pleasure rocked her clean off the mattress. Her back arched as her heels dug into foam. Mason snarled as her nails raked down his back.
“God, baby, yes!” he roared, pounding inside her with vicious force.
Beneath her hands, his muscles trembled as he fought to remain in control. He reached between them and held down her convulsing clit, extending her sweet suffering until she was certain she’d go mad. Tears leaked from the corners of her eyes as the pressure crushed her. She sobbed as that single orgasm seemed to go on for hours.
It finally slowed just when she was certain her heart was about to stop. Above her, Mason was shuddering as violently as she was, expelling a series of incoherent words against her skin as he let himself go.
The tremors, she realized much, much later, never faded. They never went away or lessened. They rocked her body without an end in sight. They were still skating hot fingers down her spine when her mind finally prickled with a few pieces of random thought. But that was all that was working, a mind that was still too fuzzy to think anything past: oh my God. Oh my god. Everything else may as well have not existed. She was a brain, floating somewhere in a blissful ocean of nothing.
Slowly, slowly, she surfaced to tingling toes, numb fingers, and crushing weight resting straight on her chest. Then, there was the flutter of silk tickling the side of her face, hot puffs of air against her throat, the smell of soap and spices, and, finally, the heartbeat rapping in succession with hers.
The place between her legs throbbed with delicious content and her clit pulsed with its own heartbeat, sending little tremors through her with every twinge. He was still buried inside her.
“Julie?” His voice was hoarse, muffled by her collar bone.
All she could manage in response was a weak, “Mm?”
“Okay?”
She wet her lips. “Way better than okay. I can’t feel my toes.”
Mason laughed, getting a feeble chuckle from Julie, who was fully prepared to drift peacefully off to sleep.
With a kiss to her throat, Mason raised his head to peer down into her face. His was shadowed, but she could just make out the glimmer in his eyes.
He smoothed a finger over her warm cheek. “Are you sure I didn’t hurt you?”
Julie chuckled. “Did I sound hurt?”
His teeth flashed in a gri
n. “I guess not.” He bent his head and kissed her, slow and sweet, stealing her breath. “I definitely loved how you sounded.”
With a last quick kiss, he pulled back completely, leaving her chilled in the loss of his warmth.
“No, don’t leave,” she whined, trying to grab him and only snatching air.
He climbed off the bed. “I’ll be right back,” he said, and she watched him pad to the bathroom.
A moment later, she heard the faucet run in the tub. The toilet flushed and more water running. He returned and came around to her side of the bed. Gingerly, he scooped her up into his arms and carried her into the bathroom with him. He set her down next to the Jacuzzi tub and carefully helped her inside. She gasped as the steaming heat scalded her all the way to the knees.
“Is it too hot?” he asked as she sunk up to the shoulders in the soothing foam scented of vanilla.
Groaning, she sunk lower until the water made a necklace around her throat. “It’s wonderful.”
Chuckling, he nudged her to sit up so he could slide in behind her. She leaned back into his chest and closed her eyes as his arms slid home around her middle.
Part of her wondered if he normally took vanilla scented baths on a regular bases, or if this was a normal routine after ever girl, fuck ‘em and then bathe ‘em.
“I got it from Maureen’s stash,” he said as if reading her thoughts.
“Stash?”
He jerked a nod towards the open door. “Maureen keeps a lot of her ... womanly things in the closet in the hallway. It saves her from running into town if she forgets to bring something along.”
She chuckled. “That sounds like Maureen. I called her,” she added as an afterthought. “No one picked up. I also called Dean. He said he’d look into it.”
Mason snorted, the sound coming out sardonic. “Maureen has someone watching the kids. Dean finally got one over on Maureen. Life is good for both of them right now.”
“Yeah...” She signed heavily. “But what about us? Dean hasn’t gotten back to us since he last talked to the sheriff and the sheriff won’t return my calls—”
“Hey.” He tightened his hold on her. His lip brushed the side of her head. “Don’t think about that tonight. Tonight, it’s about you and me and...” He slid his hand down her abdomen to cup her thigh. He forced it aside, opening her to him. “Us and the many hours between now and dawn.”
Chapter Seventeen
She was crushed into the mattress by a hard weight that exuded heat like a furnace. It cradled her gently while something feather-light traced the arch of her spine from the nap of her neck to the end of her tailbone in slow strokes. Goose bumps rose in its progression, tightening her nipples and stealing a shiver from her. Julie sighed and nestled closer to the warmth and was rewarded with a light kiss to her temple.
Dawn hovered in a streak of pale gold outside the window, painting the room with soft hand of light when she pried her eyelids open. She blinked and squinted at the chest inches from her face and the arms crushing her to it.
“Morning.”
Mason.
Heat warmed her cheeks as the previous night came flashing through her mind. The arms around her tightened.
“Morning,” she whispered.
Warm lips brushed the curve of her shoulder. “How are you feeling?”
She grinned lazily into the pillow. “Very relaxed.”
He returned her grin. “You up for some coffee? It’s almost one.”
Julie blinked. “In the morning?”
“The afternoon.”
Sheets folded tightly around her, she pushed upright. She squinted at the window with its pale light spilling through.
“I can’t believe we slept that late.”
Mason grinned smugly. “We had a very late and eventful night.”
Julie chuckled. “We certainly did.” She sighed contentedly and started rolling off the bed.
Only he caught her.
“Not so fast.”
His hands fisted in the sheets and they were tugged away, exposing her to the chill.
Julie squealed and laughed as she was caught under him. Her thighs were filled by his hips.
“Want me?” he urged between sucking and nipping at her throat. “Or have you had enough?”
Biting her lip, Julie folded her arms around his neck. Her legs twisted around the small of his back, imprisoning him to her.
“Not on your life.”
“I think we should go out for a swim,” Mason said from behind her, his hands on her hips while they waited for the coffee machine to finish.
Biting her lip, Julie said nothing as he nuzzled the back of her neck and pressed all that glorious heat into her. He had such amazing hands.
“What do you think?” He hooked a coil of damp hair and swept it off her shoulder to get more of her neck with his lips and teeth.
“A swim?”
“Mm.”
She opened her mouth to argue all the reasons they should stay away from the backyard, when a discreet knock propelled them apart. They exchanged bemused glances before following the sound to the front of the house. Mason reached the door first and yanked it open.
A man stood there, clad in black slacks and a rumpled dress shirt. He offered them a hesitant smile that looked strained and painful. His bloodshot eyes darted between Mason and Julie like he was being faced down by two Rottweiler’s.
“Hello,” he said in a raspy, smoker’s voice. “I’m sorry to disturb you.”
Mason shifted his weight to raise one arm and prop it on the doorframe. “Can we help you?”
The man was jittering, Julie noted, when he raised a hand to pat down the front of his rumpled and dirty shirt as though searching for something. His chipped fingernails looked like he’d been clawing at dirt all day. Dark smudges appeared on his already filthy top with every brush of his palms.
“I’m Dr. Wallis Nixon.” He rummaged in his pockets. His brows furrowed in confusion and agitation. “I ... I had a card...”
He trailed off and looked behind him in the direction of the beat up piece of crap parked in the driveway.
“The car...?” he mused quietly to himself.
“Is there something we can do for you, Dr. Nixon?” Mason pressed.
Dr. Nixon scratched the back of his neck and faced them once more seeming confused. “Yes, I’m looking for someone. He was last seen in this vicinity.”
Mason shook his head. “We haven’t seen anyone since we arrived.”
The older man ceased his pocket rummaging. He let his hands drop and blew out an agitated sigh.
“You might not believe what I’m about to say, but I strongly believe you might be in terrible danger.” He started patting down his pockets again, his hands not as steady. He completely missed the glances Julie and Mason exchanged, or the way Mason straightened his frame to block the doorway. “I’m here to help.”
“Whoa pal.” Mason put up his hand. “Hold your breaks. Who are you and what are you talking about?”
“He goes by the name of Jimmy, or Frank Deschanel,” the doctor went on, faster now, like he was worried Mason would toss him off the porch. “I got a phone call from the sheriff’s department yesterday regarding the troubles you’re facing.”
Julie stepped forward. “The sheriff’s department? Are you talking about the body?”
Dr. Nixon hesitated. “That why I’m here.” He darted a glance over the driveway and the surrounding woods. “Can we talk inside?”
Neither Julie nor Mason moved. They both eyed the man cautiously.
“How do we know you’re not the guy the cops are looking for?” Mason challenged.
The doctor actually looked baffled. “I’m a doctor,” he replied with such offense, it was almost comical.
“And I’m a tooth fairy,” Mason countered. “But only on my spare time. The rest of the time, I’m a ballerina.”
Dr. Nixon straightened his shoulders and observed Mason the way a scientist would a s
mall insect. “Look here, son. I have come a very long way to try and save your ass. Now if you don’t want my help...” He started to turn away.
Mason, unimpressed by the haughty indignation, folded his arms and let the other man stomp down two steps before Julie jumped in.
“Wait!”
“Julie!” Mason grabbed her arm when she tried to push past him. “He could be crazy!”
“He could also help,” she said. “Mason, please.”
He peered into her eyes, searching. His reflected his annoyance. “We can’t just trust random people who show up on the doorstep claiming to be sent by the sheriff.” His gaze shot over her shoulder to where the doctor had stopped on the third step. “Why didn’t the sheriff come with you?”
Dr. Nixon pivoted, stumbled when his foot got caught, but quickly caught himself on the railing. “Because they don’t know I’m here.”
It was the wrong thing to tell Mason. He tensed all over again. “Wait, you said you got a call—”
“And I did!” Nixon protested. “Just not the department here.”
“I am so lost,” Mason mumbled.
“A friend of mine who works in a different department heard what happened here. He called me, because it sounds like Jimmy.”
“Who is he?” Julie cut in. “Why is he doing this?”
He sighed. “He was a patient of mine. I was...” He huffed. “Can we please do this inside?”
“Maybe after some ID,” Mason interjected. “No offense, Doc, but if you’re telling me a mental patient is just wandering around this area, no way am I letting you through this door without ID.”
Dr. Nixon shook his head, resuming his searching once more. “No, it’s perfectly understandable. I seem to have left my wallet in the car...”
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