Freefall (The Indigo Lounge Series, #5)

by Zara Cox

  “God, Mason. Please, just do it.”

  “You’re not ready,” he replies.

  The embarrassingly soaked feeling between my legs says otherwise. I’ve never been this wet. Or this desperate. I look over my shoulder, and he’s staring up at me as his hands part me wider and he replaces his tongue with his thumb.

  “Fuck! I need you. Please...”

  “Do you want to come?” He circles me once, twice, then pushes in.

  Heat erupts up my spine. “Yes!”

  He stands and crouches over me. “There are condoms in the box. Grab one for me,” he says.

  I start to reach for the shiny black square, then hesitate. I may be crazy to contemplate it, but I want to feel everything. I want to squeeze every last drop of pleasure from this encounter, because I’m intelligent enough to know that Mason and I aren’t sustainable. We disagree on too much, have serious control issues that would fuck up any chance of this being more than a one night thing.

  So why waste a perfectly good medical report that says we can fuck the way nature intended for us to fuck?

  He sees my hesitation and I hear his breath catch, but he remains silent. Waiting. The only movement is his thumb, still working the screaming bundle of nerves.

  Slowly, trembling, I pull my hand back and grip the counter.

  “Say it,” he says gruffly. “I need to hear you say it.”

  “Take me, Mason. Fuck me raw.”

  My words shudder through him and his cock jerks against my back. A touch of apprehension dribbles itself across my excitement. Mason is big, and although I’m worldly enough to know that he would probably fit back there, a part of me reels at the thought of his cock in my back ass.

  “You’re tensing up. Don’t. I won’t hurt you, but I need you to relax.”

  “Easier said than done,” I return tightly. Now that I’ve let the doubts in, I can’t push them away, and I feel myself coiling tighter with each pass of his thumb.

  “Shit, this isn’t going to work if you keep tightening up.” There’s a bite of frustration in his voice, along with a ragged edge of hunger, which echoes inside me. He cups my breast and tweaks on the nipple. My insides melt, but not enough to take my mind away from what he’s doing behind me.

  After another minute, he sighs, “Show me how to make you relax, baby. Tell me what gets you soft and horny. But it can’t be anything to do with your pussy. I don’t want you coming from me touching you there.”

  Well, fuck, there goes that life-saver. I bite my lip and heat slowly fills my face as I consider his request. I don’t know why the hell I’m embarrassed when he’s the perfect guy to make this a mind-blowing experience. “I...”

  “Don’t be shy, kitten. Just say it and it’s yours.”

  “Talk...umm, talk nerdy to me.”

  He stills for a moment and mortification engulfs me. He continues to play with my nipple, but a second later I feel his breath on my ear. “So nerd talk gets you off, huh?”

  “Y...yes.”

  “Sure, baby. I can do that. How about Letters of Cicero to Atticus VII? Does that work for you?”

  My heart jumps and I nod eagerly.

  “Latin or English version?” he asks as he continues to play with my nipple and my asshole.

  Oh, God. “Latin.”

  Mason puts his mouth to my ear and starts whispering: “Dederam equidem L. Saufeio litters et dederam ad the unum, quod, cum non esset temporise mini ad scribendum satis, tamen hominem tibia familiarem sine meis litters ad the venire nolebam;”

  Each whispered word is like a little morsel of decadent dessert on my senses. I close my eyes and let the low, sexy words infuse me.

  “Sed, ut philosophi ambulant, has tibi redditum iri putabam prius.”

  I moan when the tip of his thumb slips inside me. It burns, but the sensation is unlike anything I’ve every experienced and I let it flood my senses as his words flood through me.

  “Sin aim ills accepisti, scis me Athenas venisse pr.”

  Liquid warmth touches my sensitive skin. It feels so good I melt into it and the caresses from Mason’s fingers. I hardly feel any pain when his middle finger slips into my tight sheath. He slowly eases in and out and I shudder at the incredible sensation.

  “Oooh.”

  “Does that feel good?” he whispers.

  “Hmm, yes,” I gasp.

  He kisses my jaw, my cheek, his mouth never straying far from my ear. “Idus Octobres, e navi egressum in Piraeum tuas ab Acasto nostro litters accepisse, conturbatum, quod cum...”

  I’m pure liquid sensation as I moan and move my hips against his clever finger and cleverer words. He continues to serenade me in mind and body, and I give over to the pleasure welling up inside me.

  I hardly feel his fingers leave me and his head nudge my opening.

  But then he pushes into me and my eyes pop open. “Mason, God!”

  “Shh, easy, kitten. Breathe, just breathe.” One hand holds me in place on the stool and the other rolls my nipple, tugging hard enough to distract me from the probing in my backside. “...Febre Roman venires, bono tamen animo...”

  I exhale, and he pushes deeper. Intense burning is followed by intense pleasure, the two mingling to create a surge of bliss so powerful, I scream.

  The sound seems to trigger something in Mason. He lets go of my nipple and grips my hips with both hands. On my next exhale, he slams into me. Another scream rips through my throat, and my eyes brim with tears.

  “Fuck!” Mason’s voice is thick and rough and filled a menacing edge that tells me he’s cresting his own endurance. He pulls out slowly and slams back into me. “So hot. Incredible. I knew you would be...” he mutters almost under his breath.

  After the first few thrusts, the lube is doing its work and the burning recedes a little, but not enough to completely make me forget Mason’s huge cock is in my ass.

  More than that, I’m being ass-fucked and I’m loving it. Hell, I don’t want it to stop.

  God!

  “Are you okay?” he asks when I’m too hoarse to scream anymore.

  “Yes,” I croak.

  “Tell me how you feel, baby.”

  “I...feel like I’m going to shatter into a zillion pieces.”

  “You will. Can you hold on a little longer?” he asks.

  Can I? I’m a seething ball of sensation, poised on the point of detonation. “I...don’t think so,” I answer truthfully in a choked gasp.

  One hand leaves my hip and wraps around my shoulders. He pulls me back into his chest and aligns his rough cheek against mine. “Just a few more minutes. It’ll be worth it, I promise. You feel so good, kitten. Like hot, tight silk fisting my cock. Christ, I want to fuck you forever.”

  A red haze washes across my vision, beckoning with a promise of untold ecstasy. “Mason, I can’t hold on. Please...”

  “Look at me, Keely.”

  I twist my head and catch his dark gold gaze. Something raw and visceral hooks between us and I stop breathing.

  “You’re so fucking beautiful. Come for me.”

  My mouth drops open and a keening starts in my lumbar region that I recognize as the calm before the most intense storm I’ve ever felt. A roar fills my ears, but I still hear Mason’s hoarse curses as he pounds my ass. He slams into me one last time and holds me tight as convulsions rip through me.

  I’m floating on a sea of fire and ice, of rocks and silk. I don’t know whether I’m in one piece or a thousand pieces. I don’t care about anything, or anyone, except the man whose arms shackle me, whose own hoarse cries and hot spurts flood me as we shake through our release.

  Chapter 17

  Mason

  “You don’t need to be back on the boat until Monday. Stay here with me.” I hear the words drop from my lips, and I immediately want to take them back. Only the ingrained poker face I perfected before I took my first step keeps my face rigid, even as my inner voice snarls, what the fuck is wrong with you?

  Her face, fresh
and make-up free from the shower we took after our sweaty session in the kitchen, twists with indecision. Ninety-five per cent of me hopes she says no. That insane five per cent leans forward eagerly, awaiting her answer.

  “I don’t think it’s a good idea. I have a lot of work to do before Monday. Besides, I don’t have a toothbrush, or a change of clothes.”

  I listen to the words, and I want to laugh at the pathetic excuse. The cruel freak inside wants to do just that. It wants to taunt, jibe. It doesn’t like the idea of her no. Hell, it rejects the idea of her leaving, period.

  I silence the freak, say nothing and just watch her.

  She stops eating the grilled turbot I had delivered and puts her fork down. “Why do you do that?”

  “What do you mean?”

  A flash of irritation crosses her face. “You know what I mean. Those silences.”

  “What silences?” I let the taunt monster out a little, and I feel a touch juvenile, but what the hell...

  “Don’t fuck with me, Mason—”

  Her eyes widen at the slip and another dark, cruel feeling curls through me. Silence and the expectation of retribution pulses in the air. She licks her lips and stares at me across the breakfast bar. “Dammit, you can’t drive me to the point of exasperation and then—” She stops and blinks those incredible eyes. “Are you going to give me a pass?” she asks.

  “No.”

  Her face twists. “Mason—”

  “No.”

  She worries her lip, then straightens her shoulders. “You know what...I’m a grown-ass woman. I don’t have to take this shit punishment.”

  “But you will.”

  “Even if it tips the balance of my staying here to a no rather than a yes?”

  “I won’t be negotiated with. Not when it comes to this.”

  “Why is it so important to you?”

  “Because outside of the bedroom, you’re better than crude words.”

  She studies me for a few seconds, although she knows by now that I won’t change my mind. She’s a quick study like that. My cock still throbs from having her go down on me in the bathroom. She’d learned very quickly what pleased me and given me double what I demanded.

  Three orgasms in three hours, and I’m still nowhere near ready to call it a night. Quite the opposite. I want to pound her, hard and relentlessly, until one of us breaks.

  Slowly, she stands and walks round to my side. She’s wearing my T-shirt, which covers her from neck to knee, but she’s naked underneath. My gaze stays on her face, and I read anger in her eyes. But there’s also anticipation. I see it in the flush of her cheeks, her soft pants and the tiny twitches in her fingers.

  I smile inwardly. “You do enjoy being spanked.”

  Her mouth twists. “Um, that would be a definite no to that, sir.”

  My breath strangles in my lungs, but I maintain my expression and pat the surface of the counter next to my plate.

  She pulls the T-shirt over the head and slides onto the cold granite top. The chill makes her nipples pucker, and my mouth waters at the sight. The edge of my hunger is as feral and insane as ever, and the urge to rip into her overwhelms me.

  I stay seated as she curls her knees beneath her and positions herself on all fours, her eyes on mine, and her mouth open on a noiseless pant. My heart picks up its beat and races. Thick, pulsing blood rushes through my veins, sending a roar to my head. Tingles jerk through my fingers in anticipation of contact with her firm, supple flesh. My cock doesn’t seem to care that it’s in danger of falling off from overuse. It’s eager and hard and rearing to go.

  The stool slides back as I rise and smooth my hand down her soft, graceful back. Her skin feels like warm silk and when she trembles beneath my touch, I swallow against the pressure that climbs into my head. “You take my breath away. You’re so strong, so fierce.” My fingers slowly trace her spine, testing the ridges down to the small of her back. “But you’re also so fragile. Breakable.”

  She tenses and I blink, pull myself back from the edge. “Mason?”

  I shake my head to clear it, then slide my hand to her ass. “Let’s agree on something, okay?”

  Unease lingers in her eyes. “Okay.”

  “No half-truths. I prefer silence to lies.”

  “I don’t lie.”

  “You said you don’t enjoy being spanked.” My fingers glide between her ass cheeks and her wetness coats my fingers.

  Her moan is jagged as if she doesn’t want to give it full life. “I don’t...but I do like what comes after...when you soothe me.”

  “Ah.” I play with her clit and stop myself from diving in between her legs and gorging myself on her. “I’ll always soothe you. That’s a promise.”

  “Thank you. And Mason?”

  “Yes?”

  “I’ll always tell you the truth, because that silence thing? I won’t work for me.”

  “Understood.”

  She nods in return, then nudges her ass against my fingers. I suppress another smile, right before I bring my hand down hard, once on each cheek.

  She jerks and almost lands on my plate. I toy with the idea of punishing her, then eating my dinner off her stomach, but I catch her around the waist and ease her to the ground before I cup her flesh and rub the sting away. She blinks rapidly and breathes hard for a full minute, then her eyes defiantly meet mine.

  “Are you done?”

  “I’m done. You okay?” I ask.

  A single nod. “Yes.”

  She returns to her seat, and we resume eating. When I’m done with my steak, I carry my plate to the sink. “You didn’t answer me about staying over.” I still want her to say no, take the matter out of my hands.

  “I’ll stay if you answer my question. Why do you use your silences like that?”

  I turn and lean against the sink with my arms folded. I debate the pros and cons of granting her this morsel and mentally shrug.

  “My mother once told me when I was about four that children were meant to be seen and not heard. She was annoyed with me for some slight or other. I took the suggestion a step further and hid in our mansion’s attic for a week. When they found me, she was out of her mind with worry. I was somewhat appeased, but I still wanted her to pay, especially when she had the attic sealed off so I couldn’t hide there any longer. With that hiding place no longer an option, and not really efficient in the long term, I adopted silence as my recourse. I would go days at a stretch without speaking to her and I found that, in those times, she was nicer to me.”

  Keely’s face is a picture of confused wariness. “So you’re saying you were deliberately cruel so she would be nice?”

  “Yes.”

  “And it worked for you then, so you’ve carried that trait into adulthood?”

  “Yes.”

  She places her cutlery carefully on her plate before she pushes it away. “Did she...hurt you in other ways?”

  This time, I don’t stop my amusement from showing. “Are you trying to explain away my asshole-ness, Keely?”

  “I’m trying to understand why you chose cruelty instead of say...rebellion or the occasional brattish behavior.”

  “I found it more effective.”

  Sharp green eyes stare back at me. “Did you kick puppies too?”

  “No. My puppy grew into a cherished companion who died fat and happy and of old age.”

  “So your mother was the sole recipient of your mind-fuckery?”

  “No. My father was invited to the party when the occasion demanded it. And later my wife. I’d say, she bore the harshest brunt of it.” I hear the dull roar in my head as the pressure increases, but I ignore it. I haven’t loosened the chains of my past for so long, it’s almost a relief to be having this conversation.

  She slowly rises to her feet, but she grips the edge of the counter, much like she did when I was fucking her ass. The reminder sends blood surging into my cock, but I concentrate on what she’s saying with an intensity that almost scares me.
/>   “And being cruel to them made you feel better about yourself?”

  A bark of laughter rips from my throat. “Rarely.”

  Her face creases. “Then why? And why the hell did they stand for it?”

  “Because I was the genius son who was the answer to all their problems. The proverbial golden goose who laid basketfuls of golden eggs. As long as they were bathed in gold, they didn’t much care how I treated them. I held the power. They reaped the rewards of my power. A win-win situation.”

  “But you’re divorced now, so I guess your wife decided she’d had enough?”

  “No, enough was never enough for her. She relished being a pathological victim. She didn’t leave me. I left her.”

  “Why?”

  Why? I wonder for a second what she’ll do if I tell her about Toby. That look of bewildered confusion on her face would change to horror. And then she would leave. I’m still not decided how I feel about her leaving, so I amend my answer.

  “I decided to try not being a masochist for a change.”

  “So you didn’t leave her for another woman?”

  “That’s the definition of ultimate cruelty in your book?”

  Her eyelids sweep down and I straighten, not at all pleased that I can’t read her expression.

  “No, I’m very familiar with how cruel people can be.”

  The heavy ache behind the words jerks through me. I start to walk toward her, but she picks up her plate and approaches. I take it from her and toss it into the sink.

  The sound of glass breaking makes her jump, but my hands capturing her wrists diverts her attention to me.

  “What does that mean?” I demand. I’ve just confessed my own cruelty, but the thought of anyone being cruel to her sends a spike of naked rage through my body. The strength of feeling doesn’t sit well with me. I don’t know what to do with it, so I leave it sitting there, a large, shiny, unmistakeable testament of my insanity and ask, “Who was cruel to you?”

  She stares at me for almost a minute. Her mouth purses and her chin wobbles once, before she shrugs it off and shakes her head. “I don’t know.”

  My fingers curl and I feel her pulse throb beneath my fingers. “After what we agreed just now, that’s how you respond? You don’t know?”