End Game

by Willa Thorne

  “So sweet, so delicious, my darling.” I felt his warm breath as he said this, and then he proceeded to suck in a way that left me reeling.

  Another gasp escaped.

  “Quiet,” Mason whispered. It was an effort to slap a hand over my mouth. “If you can keep it down, I can continue.” I could only nod my understanding, and covered my face with the pillow to muffle any noise that left my lips.

  Suddenly, one hand left my thigh and two fingers suddenly plunged deeply into me. I moaned, but thankfully, it was muffled from the pillow.

  “You missed that, love?” Mason’s rich, deep British accent flooded my ears as his fingers relentlessly moved in and out at a steady pace. “You missed the way my fingers can massage your sweet, tight little cunt. You need a good, sound fucking.”

  He thumbed my clit as his fingers moved with expert skill. The pressure build-up was too much and my back arched as an intense climax ripped through my body.

  My chest heaved up and down as I tried to regain my breath. I pulled the pillow away from my face and found him standing now, stroking his cock as he admired me.

  “An answer, Jillian.” His tone was stern but gentle.

  “I missed you- I missed your cock,” my breathing was staggering as I looked up at him. “Please. I need you.”

  “And you’ll have me, gorgeous,” he said this with genuine tenderness. He bent forward slightly and pressed down on the bed. The bed creaked in objection to his prodding.

  I was about to ask him what he is doing, but then he took my hands and helped me off the bed. Without a word, he lay on the carpet of my bedroom and gestured for me to join him.

  I stood there, drinking in the sight of him. The sight of him laying there with a hard, solid cock was enough to give any woman an orgasm.

  “Come here.” His command was stern, yet tender and he held his arms out to me.

  Why the hell am I just standing here?

  I sucked on my lower lip as I lowered myself onto his body. His hands grasped my ass as soon as he could reach, and he pulled me closer to him. His mouth found mine, and I blinked as I tasted myself on his tongue. My lips trailed kisses from his mouth down to his chest and sucked on each nipple in turn.

  He let out a grunt as I did this, and he rubbed his cock against my slick opening. The way he thrust up like this was so arousing, and I couldn’t resist any longer. I lifted my thighs to position myself and his hands planted firmly on each hip, guiding me.

  “I can feel how you tightened up on me while I was gone. This tight little pussy will feel so good,” he said with strain in his voice.

  I lowered myself onto him at my own pace, while his hands remained firmly planted on my hips. I closed my eyes as his thick, solid tip entered me, slowly stretching me open, and his fingers dug into the flesh on my hips as he continued to control himself.

  I lowered myself a little more as I adjusted myself, and in reaction, he thrust his hips up, and pulled me down onto him. I felt every thick inch slam into my tight heat and I threw my head back as he filled me completely. Immediately, he began rocking my body back and forth. I gasped and whimpered.

  “That’s it, darling. Fucking ride my cock.” He groaned as he thrust up, deeply inside. He slammed into me so deeply at a relentless pace and my knees were growing weak from the intense, pleasurable pressure.

  “Oh Mason,” I moaned, caught up in ecstasy.

  He suddenly flipped me onto my back and relentlessly continued, harder and faster and I could feel his heavy balls slap against me as he kissed each of my breasts.

  “Oh F...uck, Mason” I moaned. “I love you.”

  He didn’t answer immediately. He finally let out a guttural groan as he came deep inside me. He lay on top of me, never removing his cock, as he breathed heavily against my neck.

  “I love you too, my Jilly Bean,” he spoke as he huffed against my throat. “I missed you so much.”

  Eventually, we ended up in the bed. Mason’s large arms wrapped around my small frame as he spooned me. The torrent of rain outside had diminished to a light shower and I quietly listened to the soft patter of the rain drops.

  Mason was absolutely exhausted and fell asleep almost instantly. For once, he was sound asleep long before I was. I rolled lightly, and stared at his face as he slept. I knew, without a doubt, that this was the first time within a month that he was sleeping this soundly. I continued watching him. His features are so beautiful and so masculine at the same time. I wanted to run my fingers through that his thick, wavy black hair.

  “I fucking did what was necessary,” I heard him mumble this in his sleep. “You’ll burn in hell.”

  I blinked as I watched him, waiting for him to murmur something else, but then he was silent. He’s only dreaming. I kept my gaze on him, wondering what torment was playing within his mind. Deep down, I already had an idea that his mumblings had to do with his father.

  4. Mason Woodward

  I awoke the next morning, profoundly confused for a fleeting moment. Dreams of my berating father’s voice floated in and out of my sleep. When I opened my eyes to a strange bed, it took a few moments to collect my thoughts and recall my late arrival to Travis’s apartment.

  Seeing Jillian has given me more peace than I’ve had in the last five weeks. I missed seeing that light in her eyes, and feeling the way her arms wrap around my body tightly when she tackles me. The sweet, minty taste of her mouth and the way those pouty lips envelope mine when she kisses-

  Fuck. My cock hardened even more just thinking about last night. I glanced toward Jillian’s side of the bed. It was empty and unmade. Then I glanced at the digital clock on the dressing table.

  Bloody hell. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d slept in until noon. I noticed that Jillian had brought my black bag into the bedroom and placed it beside the dressing table. I rummaged through it until I found a pair of thin sweat pants and a black crew neck- my typical workout gear.

  Black Sabbath was playing on low volume in the small kitchenette as I paced down the small hall. My lips curled into a half smile when I heard Jillian’s voice belting out the lyrics. I watched her swing her hips, then she turned and laughed when Travis shoved her head playfully.

  “Where did you go last night?” I could hear Jill ask her brother.

  “Out.” Travis gave a cryptic grin.

  “To Lucy’s?” She taunted like an impish little sister.

  “Nope. The eggs are burning.” Travis pointed toward the fryer.

  “Oh! Shit!”

  “Hey, man.” Travis greeted when he spotted me enter the kitchen. “Jill’s making us breakfast. Isn’t that cute?”

  Jill rolled her eyes and narrowed them in a glare toward her brother, then she turned toward me as she desperately attempted to scrape burnt eggs from the fryer onto a plate.

  “Good morning, sweetie. I’m making brunch. Well, sort of… I burnt the eggs but we still have toast and sausage, and cereal.”

  She wrapped her arms around my torso and stood on her toes to kiss me. I held her tightly, reveling in the way her small frame fits against mine.

  “I’m still trying to wrap my head around this,” Travis mumbled. He began fixing himself a plate of food as he attempted to ignore the display.

  I looked up from my hold on Jillian as a thought occurred to me.

  “Happy Birthday, Mate.”

  Travis glanced up from his plate. His brow creased slightly from slight confusion and some surprise.

  “You remembered?” Travis asked me, then he turned and looked at his sister. “Did you tell him?”

  “No,” Jill answered.

  Of course I remembered. The memories from fourteen years of solid friendship doesn’t disappear within a span of five years. I recalled going out to concerts and bars every year on this day. This was the first time in six years that I was around to wish him a happy birthday.

  “You damn bloke, of course I remembered. Are you doing anything today?” I looked between Travis and Jill.r />
  Travis adjusted the frames on his face. “I don’t care to celebrate my birthday. I’m not a damn five-year-old, but if you all insist, the family is coming over later for a get-together.” He grabbed a piece of toast and bit into it with a slight grin.

  We sat at the tiny round table in the kitchenette and talked while we ate our food. I observed the witty banter between Travis and Jillian, how they teased one another. Their relationship had changed, and it was refreshing to be around real, uninhibited people.

  The last five weeks consisted of nothing but lawyers, legal matters and corporate agenda. Everyone was in a frenzy as I gradually worked with various department heads at J.A. Woodward and Company. After numerous meetings with my father’s financial advisors, it became painfully clear that serious changes needed to be made.

  I continued listening to Travis and his sister tease one another. It was the most entertainment I’d witnessed in a long while. I smirked to myself as I listened quietly. While my friendship with Travis was still not the same it had been years ago, we are working to mend that severed bond. His trusting me with his little sister is an honor in itself, and I will not take that trust lightly.

  ****

  Later that evening I was sitting in the living room of the large farm house. Jillian’s family asked me questions about business in London and I answered to the best of my ability without giving too much personal information. It was comforting that they didn’t press for more information. Instead, Jillian’s mother decided to embarrass the shit out of her by bringing out the old photo albums.

  “Oh, and here is Jillian on her first day of preschool. Oh look how little you were, Travis.” Their mother awed as she flipped through photos. “Those glasses were so big on your face…”

  I scanned the photos that Mrs. Pryor seemed to be displaying just for my benefit. I couldn’t recall if my parents had photographs like this of my sister and I. I assumed they didn’t, unless our governess had taken candid photos during our family outings. A small part of me did feel envious that their family was so tightly knit, while mine was cold, abusive and neglectful. Everything my family did together was for the direct purpose of public relations. My parents presented the image of a perfect marriage, and a perfect family. I don’t need to delve into the truth behind their public lie.

  My family was disconnected during my childhood. While growing up, I didn’t understand what it meant to have the support system that Travis and Jillian were raised in. Of course, I always longed for it, but that was nothing more than a fairytale that I quickly came to dismiss… until I fell in love with Jillian. She opened my eyes in a way that no one else has…

  “... Oh, and here’s another one of Jillian. She was so tiny. We used to call her peanut.”

  I threw my head back and laughed, especially after witnessing the wide-eyes of Jillian when her mother said this.

  “Mom!” Jillian sighed. She and and her brother appeared embarrassed.

  “I really want cake.” Travis added in an effort to change the subject.

  I suppressed an amused laugh, and the temptation to tease my Jilly Bean mercilessly. Mrs. Pryor became distracted with the idea of bringing out the cake which Jillian baked, and the rest of the family filed into the kitchen.

  For a fleeting moment, were left alone in the livingroom. I grasped her hand and leaned in toward her ear. She was so warm and flushed from some of the more embarrassing photos her mother had just put on display.

  “I really like your family,” I whispered softly to her.

  It’s true. I’d never felt so comfortable around a group of people before.

  Her lips curled into a soft smile and she inclined her head towards my face. “They will be your family, too, very soon.” She squeezed my hand firmly. “Actually, they are already.”

  I was once callous to the idea of family, but her words warmed me, and I gripped her thigh firmly when nobody was watching. “I think I could get used to that.”

  5. Jillian Pryor

  Mason and I returned to Manhattan on Wednesday, and it was already Friday. I waltzed through the thick glass doors of Mason’s hotel and walked with a spring in my step across the ornate marble of the lobby floor. It felt good to be back in the city. Piper was so eager to hand over the receptionist position and I was on my way up to the penthouse after finishing my first day of work.

  “Hello, Gus!” I greeted the hotel’s concierge. He gave me a friendly smile as I crossed the lobby, headed toward the elevator.

  “Good afternoon, Ms. Pryor.”

  I opened my mouth to ask Gus how his day had been, but a young man at the front desk interrupted my thought.

  “Erm, Ms. Pryor?”

  I turned slowly. The front desk never bothered to give me more than a greeting before today.

  “A message arrived for you just an hour ago.” The young man mentioned as he displayed a crisp envelope.

  I turned to look at Gus with a questioning expression, but the older man simply shrugged his shoulders. I took a few steps and approached the front desk and retrieved the white envelope and opened it.

  A rectangular, cream colored card greeted my fingertips and the message was written in burgundy ink, in Mason’s own script.

  I am going to pick you up at seven tonight. Wear something nice.

  I couldn’t help but smile, despite the strong sense of deja vu that washed over me.

  “This is also for you.” The young man at the front desk produced a thin, rectangular white box.

  I felt my cheeks flame pink, convinced the contents within the box was something very naughty.

  “Thank you,” I murmured and spun on my heels. I made a beeline for the elevator, boiling over with curiosity.

  I found the penthouse to be empty; Mrs. O’Malley was probably out running errands, so I retreated into the privacy of our bedroom to open the box.

  I took another look at the card. His name wasn’t signed to it, but I recognized the handwriting.

  I sucked in a deep breath as I read over the message again. Why did this feel so familiar? My heart continued fluttering in my chest and my imagination was beginning to run wild with possibilities. What did he have planned? Where was he taking me? What has he picked out?

  I lifted the lid of the white box, expecting to find a sinful pair of lingerie, but instead my mouth dropped open at what was laid on the bed of white tissue paper.

  I inhaled deeply as I held up the exquisite black cocktail dress. I held it against my frame as I stared at my reflection from where I stood, across the room.

  “Oh my God,” I breathed.

  Immediately, with jittery fingers, I grabbed my cell phone from my bag and sent Mason a text message.

  Where are you taking me?

  His answer was instant: It’s a surprise. ;)

  The deja vu was even stronger now and I contemplated why this all felt so familiar. I kept the gorgeous Dior dress held up while I admired its classic style in the mirror. I bit my lower lip, brimming with excitement. My heart was full to bursting. The dress was perfect as I tried it on, and I studied myself in the mirror. My Mason picked something perfect. I confess I was shocked that he chose a dress, and not something naughty. My anticipation for the evening was torment, in a very good way. I thought of all the luxurious restaurants I knew about in the city, and wondered if we were going to dine at any of them. I considered whether we would be spending an evening on his yacht, but the evening air was very brisk for this time of year. My mind spun with ideas and theories as I prepared for our evening. He obviously went through great lengths to make this night very special, and I would do everything I could to return the gesture.

  I opened my lingerie drawer and studied it. My fiance had developed a very bad habit of tearing panties from my body. Since we were separated for a month, I’ve been able to rebuild my collection. I gently rummaged through my collection, carefully considering what I should wear beneath this gorgeous dress he secretly chose for me. Buried beneath a few pieces, I found
a set that I had purchased a while ago. The tags were still on them, and I sucked on my lower lip as a thought crossed my mind. My heart did another fluttering palpitation in my chest as a fresh burst of excitement charged through my veins.

  In the past, Mason has implied his opinion about boyshorts. I love them and I think they’re comfortable. He has always had very particular tastes when it comes to lingerie and he has made it clear that he thinks boyshorts are not sexy. Perhaps tonight, I can prove otherwise. As I stared at the sheer black lace in my hands, and Mason’s possible plans for us, I felt myself grow wet.

  I showered and played soft music as I prepared for whatever he had planned for us. I cut the tags on the sheer black lace and gently eased them up my smooth thighs. I admired the way the sheer black lace hugged my curves, with criss-cross detail that laced over my hips. I paired it with a matching coquette lace bra that dipped low, and enhanced my cleavage. The dress was a perfect fit; it was as though he’d given the dressmaker my personal measurements and had everything custom made. I’ve never been so vain, but I viewed my reflection in the mirror for a moment before I applied some mascara and lipgloss. I didn’t want to use too much makeup, but I did apply a light layer of lip gloss. I knew he’d be kissing it off my lips before we left the penthouse. The excitement and anticipation was growing with every passing minute. I took a wide barrel curling iron to my wild waves in an effort to tame the mass.

  Just as I was finishing, my phone rang and I grabbed it off the nightstand. It was Elyse and with a stupid grin on my face, I answered.

  “Hey chica, I’m on break.” Elyse stated as soon as I answered.

  “Hi! You’ll never guess what happened.” I felt my face flush crimson from the need to gush about Mason’s super secret plans.