by JC Hawke
“Since university. I moved here with Lucy in my first year. I lived with the girls for a while after that, but when I eventually opened the studio, I found myself a little place on my own so that I could be closer.”
“The girls?” he asks, circling his thumbs over my hip bones.
“Lucy, you met her tonight and Megan, my two best friends. We shared a two-bed for four years whilst we studied and then found our feet after. Took turns on the futon.” I grin as the memories of our uni days flash in my mind.
“They didn’t want to move with you?”
“What? To my one bed, one bathroom.” I laugh, pushing back on his chest as I look around at the dark grey units. “This place is beautiful, although I’d say my apartment is a little cosier.”
He studies the room around him as if trying to see it from my eyes.
“What do you do for a living?” I ask. “Where does all of this come from?”
“Once upon a time. My parents. We’ve tripled our fathers’ empire in the last five years,” he declares, his own pride shining through.
“You’re close with your parents?”
His beautiful face drops, making me regret my question. “I used to be with my dad. My mum died when I was four years old.” His reply comes out robotic, expressionless, like he’s already zoned out.
I run my fingers through the hair at the base of his neck, sensing he needs the physical touch.
“I’m so sorry, Mason.”
“Please. Don’t.” His eyes bore into mine, adrenaline coursing through my veins as he pins me with his stare. Slowly, he lowers his mouth to mine, coaxing my lips into a kiss so urgent it sets my body aflame.
Grasping the backs of my knees, he pulls me, so I’m sitting on the edge of the worktop, our bodies perfectly aligned. I feel his hard cock against my centre. He rolls his hips, and a shudder runs through me. His groan vibrates against my lips, and I feel it, all the way down there.
Our kiss turns desperate.
He pulls back as he bites my lip, making me moan out loud. I don’t let him go, though, my lips finding their way instinctively back to his, but he quickly forces us apart again.
“Fuck!” he yells, running his hands through his hair.
I smile up at him as he tries to compose himself. Annoyance at his lack of control evident in his stance.
“Bed. Now. You need to sleep,” he stresses.
“You need me to sleep more like… You just want me sober, don’t you, Bossman.”
He shakes his head, hands on hips.
“Where am I to sleep, Mr. Mason?” I ask cheekily, hopping down from the kitchen island.
“Where the fuck do you think, Pixie?”
“Pixie?” I frown. Mason is in on this too?
His face grows serious as if he has just realised what he’s said. Not wanting to kill the mood, I take off on a run from the kitchen, searching for the stairs. I can hear him close behind me, and I flick my head around as I hit the first step, spotting him rounding the corner. My breath catches with the excitement that lives in his eyes. I see him smile, and then everything goes dark.
I pause mid-step, my heart hammering in my chest. Hands dust my waist as warm lips find my ear. If I didn’t already know, the sheer strength and dominance in the body at my back would tell me it’s Mason.
I can smell him, feel him, taste him on my lips.
“Too late now, angel.” He uses his body to move mine forward, and as we reach the top step, he bends, lifting me over his shoulder.
“Wait!” I squeal.
We enter the bedroom, and I try to take in my surroundings, but all I can seem to focus on is the feel of his fingers as they dig into the tops of my thighs. The room is lit up in a soft glow from the city lights beyond the windows. Being upside down makes it impossible to make out anything else, though. “Bossman, put me down!”
I feel myself floating through the air before my back meets the soft sheets of a mattress. He hesitates only a second before lowering himself over me.
“You’re fucking beautiful,” he hums, his lips dropping into the crook of my neck.
I try to get closer, but he holds his body off of me, supporting his weight on his arms and not letting our bodies touch.
“Promise me when I’m sober—”
His head swoops down, cutting me off with a searing kiss. “I promise when you’re sober.” He smiles down at me, and my stomach flips again.
Slowly, he rises off me and leaves the room through one of the doors. I sit up quickly and look around at my surroundings, my hands fisting the silky-smooth sheets.
The bed is huge. Its plush navy headboard sits high against the white wall. There’s an ottoman at the base of the bed, a large shaggy rug covering the floor beneath it. The corner of the room is made up of floor-to-ceiling windows with double doors that give way to a wraparound balcony.
It’s beyond anything I’ve ever seen.
Mason comes back into the room from one of the two adjoining doors. He drops a T-shirt on the ottoman.
“Bed,” he demands.
Usually—like any other time in my life—I’d tell him to piss off. I mean, who does this man think he is?
But, the way he can look at me and make me feel so many things… I shut the hell up and go to the en suite to change.
I remove my dress and quickly pull the T-shirt over my head, fluffing my hair in the mirror then flattening it out again. I take a deep breath and open the door, only to be caught completely off guard when I find Mason in nothing but a pair of white boxer briefs. He has his back to me, his muscles flexing as he pulls back the bedsheet.
He turns, sensing my presence, his eyes dropping down the length of my body. “Come lay with me.”
And I do just that. I climb into his bed, lying on my side as his body mirrors mine. I feel the exhaustion of the past week take over my body, and my eyes grow heavy as I relax into the plush bedding.
The last thing I see as I drift off to sleep is the promise of more in the dark eyes of the beautiful man lying next to me.
I wake disoriented and confused in my surroundings. Sitting up, I look around the room until my eyes fall on the Adonis beside me.
Well, shit.
He lies on his back with one arm thrown up over his eyes, the sheet wrapped around his legs. The rest of his body is on full display.
He is magnificent.
I’m not sure I’ve ever seen a man in the flesh with such an incredible physique. Reaching out, I use my pointer finger to follow a large vein that runs the length of his forearm.
He groans but doesn’t wake, his hand coming down to rest on the comforter.
His torso is ripped with solid muscles, his chest taut. He has a light smattering of hair leading down into his boxers.
My eyes go wide when I spot his erection.
I promise when you’re sober.
I don’t know what comes over me, but I kneel beside him, slowly reaching my hand out to palm him through the thin fabric. His cock twitches at my touch, growing harder.
Oh, god! What am I doing?
I freeze, looking up into his eyes in a panic. He stares down at me with a raised brow. Reaching out, he slides a strand of hair behind my ear as if challenging me to continue.
Without a second thought, I slide his boxers from his hips and free him.
Precum glistens on the head, and I bend, my eyes locked on his as I lick the entire underside of him, then flick my tongue across the tip, tasting him.
He groans, grabbing hold of my head as I smile around him. I hollow my cheeks and draw him into my mouth, swirling my tongue across his silky-smooth skin with every bob of my head. My eyes are locked on him, unable to look away as I watch him fight for his control.
His body tenses as I take him to the back of my throat, making his abs ripple under my free hand.
Sensing him losing control, I take him deeper, suck harder, until he is pumping into my mouth relentlessly, his hands holding me where he wants me with an a
lmost painful grip on my hair, and all I can do is take him.
“I’m going to come,” he warns.
I swallow around him, and he comes in a rush down my throat. I pull back, struggling to take all of him.
He breathes heavily, throwing his arm back over his eyes before breaking out in a deep chuckle.
I slowly pull back, my cheeks on fire from my arousal.
“Fuck. Is this a wind-up? Did Elliot pay you to do this to me?” He smiles.
I sit back in shock, my stomach turning. “You think I’m a prostitute?”
“What? No!” He reaches for me, trying to run his thumb over my chin, but I snap my head away and wipe it with my forearm.
My eyes burn as I look down at the sticky spot.
I think I’m going to be sick.
“I’ve got to go.” I start to scramble for my things.
“Wait! What? Nina, hold on a second.” He tries to untwist from the sheets, but I’m faster and make it out of the room and down the stairs before he can stop me. I rush to the elevator with my shoes and bag in hand, shimming my dress up my legs and discarding the T-shirt on the floor.
The elevator doors slide open, and I’m met with myself. I look into the mirror, tears burning behind my eyes.
All I see is her.
Just as the doors begin to close, Mason rushes forward, putting his body between them and forcing them back open.
He grabs me in a desperate hold.
“Get off me!” I yell, hiding my face from him.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” he demands. “Did Elliot fucking pay you last night?”
I snap my head up, looking straight through him. My chest feels like it’s cracking into two.
Does he honestly think that?
He can’t think that.
The first tear breaks the dam, and he releases me as if I’ve slapped him.
“Shit. Nina, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you.” He runs his hands through his hair, his eyes wild.
I slam my palms against his chest with everything inside me, pushing him back and clear of the doors.
“Leave me alone, Mason.”
3
Nina
I sit in the back of the taxi with my legs pulled up under me, my head lolling to the side as it thuds against the window in regret. I’ve never felt so dirty—the need to scrub at every inch of my body is overwhelming.
Is this how she felt?
My eyes grow heavy, and I blink them closed before they can fill with tears. I refuse to feel sorry for my mother. It’s the last thing she deserves.
Rain falls fiercely on the windshield, the pelting so savage and unrelenting it demands my focus, but does nothing to deter my thoughts from the internal storm that’s raging inside me. I stare straight ahead, feeling completely lost.
I’m not angry at Mason (lie). I’m angry at myself. Mad that I put myself in such a degrading situation. I’ve had one-night stands before, most of them whilst in university, but I have never been left feeling so cheap in my life. Puffing out a breath, I pull out my phone and call Lucy.
“Nina, where the hell are you? You’re missing pancakes,” she whines.
“Luce, I—” My voice cracks and I try to swallow the lump that’s lodged in my throat.
“Where are you? Are you okay?” she asks, her words laced with concern.
A tear rolls down my cheek and I swipe it away quickly, hoping the driver doesn’t notice. “I’m in a taxi on my way home.”
“I’m on my way babe. I will get Dad to drop me home. Give me half an hour, okay?”
The line goes dead, leaving me alone with my thoughts again and shame gutting me from the inside out.
I notice I have a new voicemail and two missed calls from my mum. How ironic. I hit play, my scalp prickling as her voice drifts into my ears.
“Nina! For goodness sake, call me back. I am your mother! You should show me more respect. You move to the big city, get your fancy studio and think you can snub me. Never forget where you came from, little girl.”
Any other day I would fight her words; it’s what she wants. If we had a functional mother-daughter relationship, she’d be forced to acknowledge the guilt that I pray festers inside of her. And she is guilty. Guilty of destroying my childhood.
The taxi rolls to a stop outside my building, and I lean in to pay the driver. I catch my reflection in the mirror, instantly cringing. Dark circles surround my eyes from last night’s makeup. I look pale, like I’ve not had enough sleep, and my hair is a matted mess.
I walk up the stairs of my building unhurried, glad to be home and away from the outside world. My tiny apartment sits on the fourth floor, and its open-plan living makes it seem bigger than it actually is. I have a small U-shaped kitchen along the far wall with a wraparound island. My little kidney-shaped sofa sits against it. The coffee table is currently littered with paperwork, and yesterday’s coffee—only half finished—sits cold beside it.
My gaze scans the corner to my left. Where most would have a place to dine, I have a place to dance. A huge free-standing mirror decorates the back wall, with cushioned mats lining the floor beneath it. Fairy lights drape from the ceiling above, illuminating the small nook. It’s where I find myself when the world demands more than I’m willing to give.
I throw my bag down on the sofa on the way to my room, digging out a pair of pyjamas from my chest of drawers before heading for the shower.
I stand under the spray for what feels like forever, washing my body repeatedly until I start to feel more like myself again. The devastation I felt only hours ago washed down the drain along with all thoughts of Mason Lowell.
Lucy is laying on my bed by the time I finish showering. She pulls back the duvet for me to slide in, spooning me from behind as she throws an arm around my waist. “We dropped Megan at The Elm. She’s getting you breakfast,” she tells me.
We lie in silence for a while until Megan arrives fifteen minutes later. She drops down onto the bed, lying sprawled out at our feet.
“Fucking hell, girls, I’m never drinking again,” she groans.
I smile into my fist. I can always rely on my girls to be here when I need them, even hungover to shit they show up.
“Nina took me home to my parents. I was sick until four a.m.,” Lucy whines at the back of my head.
“Exactly why I took you to your parents, stupid.” I hesitate before adding, “I got a lift home with Elliot and Charlie’s friend, Mason. I ended up going back to his place.”
Megan sits up in a rush, instantly turning pale from the movement. “You did what?”
“I didn’t sleep with him. He told me he wouldn’t touch me because I’d been drinking.” Megan’s features relax a little. “But we kissed. A lot.” Lucy giggles at my back. “And then this morning, I woke up in his bed, and he was laying there looking all incredible and hot and I… I started to touch him.”
I think I’ve rendered them speechless, neither of them uttering a word.
“He woke up, so I kept going. I ended up giving him head.”
“Nina!” Lucy proclaims, clearly not expecting it.
“That’s not the worst of it.” I close my eyes, memories of the look on his face too much to bear as it plays out in my mind.
“Oh god, you weren’t sick, were you? I’ve totally choked on dick before.”
Both me and Lucy lift our heads, grim expressions on both our faces. “What the fuck, Megs?!” I ask as we all fall into silent chuckles.
My face grows solemn as I admit, “He thought Elliot paid me to take him home.” I pause. “He thought I was a prostitute.”
“Oh, Nina, what an ass!” Lucy croons, pulling me tighter to her.
“Oh, as if! He actually thinks he could afford you!” Megan snaps.
“Megan!” Lucy scolds.
“Shit, sorry, Nina. I didn’t think,” she says apologetically.
I give her a small smile, letting her know it’s okay. “I’ve never felt more like my mot
her in my life,” I mutter.
Lucy sits up, looking down at me as she rests on her arm. “Well, we all know that’s a load of rubbish. You couldn’t be any more the opposite of that woman. Come on, dry your hair. We are going out.”
“Out? Where?” I protest.
“Shopping. And the salon.” She smiles.
“Can you drop me home on the way?” Megan asks, looking moments away from sleep.
Lucy gets up, pulling the towel off my body and whipping Megan with it as she heads in the direction of the kitchen. “Nope! Get up. Both of you! It’s girls’ day.”
“Yay, girls’ day.” Megan quips, lifting her head and observing my state of nakedness, then flopping back to the bed.
It has gone four when we arrive back at my apartment, our arms full of shopping. We laugh our way up the stairs until we reach my door.
Lucy bends, picking something up from the floor, then spins around, her lips rolling and her eyes popping wide as she stands with a massive bouquet of flowers grasped in her already overfilled hands.
I roll my eyes as I unlock my door, yearning to lean in and smell them.
Inside I stare down at my nails, now a beautiful pale pink—my toes matching. I can tell Lucy is waiting for me to turn around, so I go to the kitchen and flick on the kettle.
“You can chuck those in the bin.” I wave the teaspoon at the flowers.
She dips her head to her shoulder, looking all cute as she holds up the arrangement. “Come on, Nina. Maybe you should see what he has to say.” She waves an envelope at me. “There’s a note.”
“I’m going to put all this shopping away, and when I come back, I want them gone. Keep them for yourself for all I care. I want nothing to do with the man or the way he makes me feel.” I stomp off to my room, slamming the door like a brat as I go.
I lie on my bed, feeling stupid. I shouldn’t be feeling like this over a man I have only known for only a matter of hours. Seeing the flowers only makes me feel weak, and I don’t want to know that he’s sorry.
I don’t want to have to explain myself to him.