by JC Hawke
So I show him the only way I know how and plead with him with my eyes to let it be enough.
Darting out my tongue, I swipe him from my lips, watching him as my mouth forms around his tip. He groans loudly, his knees dipping as he scrapes my hair from my neck and pulls it into one hand, winding the soft strands around his fist.
It’s a power play, and I want it. I want him and his threat to control me, but only here. He can control every part of my pleasure—of his. But nothing else.
He lifts my chin. “Keep your eyes on me,” he manages, voice gruff.
He starts to thrust his hips, hitting the back of my throat on every stroke, slowly getting deeper and deeper.
I smile around him, making his eyes darken. He shakes his head before looking away from me. “Baby, don’t give me that smile.”
“Mmmmm,” I murmur, his cock lodged in my throat, causing my voice to vibrate around him.
“Fuck,” he snaps. The hold on my hair intensifies as he winds it even tighter, his hips thrusting even faster, harder, unapologetically. His eyes find mine again, and realisation flashes across his face as I struggle to take him. I may be the one on my knees, with his hold on my hair, but he isn’t in control either. It’s been lost in the moment, a free-for-all as he fights my reflexes for release.
Forcing myself back, I drop to the floor, knowing he will follow, and he does. He doesn’t hesitate, lining himself up and thrusting inside me.
“Dripping. Fucking. Wet,” he rasps.
He starts to roll his hips into me, lifting my leg over his forearm to get to the perfect spot. “Mase! You feel so good,” I moan.
His eyes find mine, softening instantly, then his lips drop to mine, and he takes my mouth in a beautiful, slow kiss.
My leg falls to the side and he stills inside me, his arm still draped under my bent leg. His hand comes around and grasps my wrist in a stronghold. Our breathing is erratic, the only other noise between our deep, sucking kisses.
My body aches to have him, wanting more and less, and for this feeling never to end. “Mase, move. Please,” I beg, clenching around him.
A growl rumbles through his chest as he brings my arms up and around his shoulders, locking them behind his neck to keep him close. He gives me exactly what I want, rolling his hips perfectly until my body locks tight and pressure builds at my core. And he knows it. His hand comes down, planting itself over my clit, tipping me over the edge and letting me free fall.
The primal need that comes over me has me focusing on nothing but the rising, inexplicable wave that’s coursing through my body. I feel nothing and everything all at once as my walls squeeze and relax in unison, my sex sucking him in deeper with its hungry release.
He stands, still buried deep inside me, my body wrapped around him. He sits down on the sofa, my body straddling his. “Fuck me, Pixie,” he whispers.
The position has me sinking farther onto him, aftershocks still rippling through my core. “I can feel you, baby,” he groans, his mouth sucking at my throat.
I begin to roll my hips. Hard. Deep. A small circle.
His head comes up and he looks at me, his hair a dishevelled mess. “I might just keep you. Don’t fucking stop,” he says, planting a chaste kiss on my lips.
Using all the energy I have left, I ride him, working my hips under his hold to get him to the point of ecstasy. He comes inside of me, groaning out my name as his mouth falls from my puckered nipple.
His body shakes as his face nuzzles into my chest.
I go to speak, but nothing comes out. Reaching up instead, I run my hand through his smooth hair. My eyes catch a gold glint behind his head. I pull my wrist forward, looking over the gold band that now adorns my wrist.
“I’ll send everything else back,” he says, looking up at me with hesitant eyes. “But keep that. Please.”
“I could get used to those manners, Bossman.” I smile, giving him a long, lazy kiss.
We lie on the cushioned floor wrapped in a soft woollen blanket, my body curled into Mason’s side. My body feels lax, but there’s still an ache pulsing through my entire body, reminding me of the incredible night we’re leaving behind.
I lift my head from Mason’s chest, stealing a piece of cheese from the platter he’d made earlier. “How long did you spend getting all this ready today?” I ask, gesturing around the room.
The majority of the candles are burnt out with wax pooling on the hardwood floors.
“Hours,” he says dramatically.
I chuckle, licking the salt from my lips. “It’s beautiful. No one has ever treated me like this. It could be the best date I’ve ever been on, you know. Definitely the best sex for a first date.”
“Just the first date, huh, like you’ve had better?” he mutters, feigning hurt but still smiling. “How bad did you feel? Coming downstairs and seeing all my hard work?”
I bring a piece of cheese to his mouth, letting my finger linger as his tongue comes out to swipe it. “I really did feel bad. I just…”
“I know, you don’t want me to buy you things,” he finishes for me.
“Mase. My mum, she wasn’t the best role model growing up. The thought of becoming her—”
“You’re nothing like your mother, Nina!”
“Uh, no. I’m not,” I say, confused by his tone and that he thinks he knows me well enough to form an opinion. “But I promised myself a long time ago that I wouldn’t rely on anyone else, and I won’t be bought with shiny things. I know you have money, and I appreciate the gesture. It’s all so thoughtful. I just, I feel uncomfortable with you spending money on me. It’s not why I’m here.”
“When was the last time you saw your mother?” he asks, completely changing the subject. I just hope he is listening.
“Two years ago. She overdosed. Ended up in hospital for a week.”
He shakes his head at my confession, my honesty shocking me. “You shouldn’t have to deal with it alone. What you’ve been through...” he says, fiddling with my bangle.
What I’ve been through? “How do you know I was alone?”
“Were you?”
Asshole. My body locks up as I resist the urge to bolt. “Mase, what’s my mother’s name?” I ask, looking down at him.
“What?”
I wait, not saying a word.
He knows I know.
“Sarah Leigh Anderson,” he eventually says, his eyes wild as he gauges my reaction.
I drop my head to his chest, looking away from him. His muscles relax in what I presume is relief as his arms come around me.
He thinks he knows. The arrests, hospital admissions, the tip-offs from neighbours to social services—it’s only the half of it.
“Say something,” I whisper.
“I’m sorry.”
“What are you sorry for, Mason?”
“Everything you have been through. Everything you continue to go through.”
I roll my eyes, already over this pity party. “My childhood wasn’t all bad, you’ve just invaded the bad bits—and that’s exactly what you’ve done so don’t try to deny it. I lived with Lucy’s parents, Maggie, you met her, and John. They took me in at eight. I was between my mums and theirs until uni after that. They made sure I was sheltered from it, somewhat.”
He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, his lips in a tight line. “If she mistreated you so badly, then why do you pay her? Why not cut her off?”
I recoil at his words. “What? Jesus, Mason. How deep did you go?” I yell.
“I wasn’t going to look, but I had no way of getting hold of you. Nina, you’ve transferred your mother nearly fourteen thousand pounds in the last four years!”
He goes to grab me, but I’m already up, the blanket wrapped around me as he tries to do what they all do. Lucy, Maggie, John they think they know best.
They don’t.
“Leave it, Mase, it’s none of your business!” I head for the kitchen, knowing I need to calm down and put some space between us.
They all care. It’s my biggest war, and I fight it against myself: To defend someone who doesn’t care to people who only want what’s best for me.
“Fair, it’s not my business. But you’re going to run your studio into the ground if you don’t start paying more off your business loan soon, you’re struggling to keep your head above water as it is.”
The sharp slap of my hand against his cheek resounds off every inch of the penthouse. We stand toe to toe, his nostrils flaring as his rage seeps out of the red on his face.
“Fuck you!” I roar, tears stinging my eyes. “Mason, by all means, fuck me. Fuck every inch of me until I have nothing else left to give, but stay the fuck out of my life. My studio. My business.”
He scoffs, looking up the stairs then back to me again. “So you’ll give me your body, but that’s it, that’s all I get? I guess the apple really doesn’t fall far from the tree.”
He drops his head to his chest the moment the words are out. And that’s the thing with words; once they are spoken, they can’t be unheard, forgotten.
“My mother did that,” I whisper, a tear running into the seam of my lips. “She never lay a finger on me.” Not herself anyway. “But sometimes, I wish she had—it probably would have hurt less. But no, she’s just like you.” I tip my chin. “She used her words to break me.”
“Nina, I didn’t—”
“Leave me the fuck alone.”
I run up the stairs, bypassing his bedroom and rush to the room Lucy and Megan had stayed in last night. Crawling under the sheets, I let the pain in my chest bleed out through old wounds—memories from my childhood at the centre of my thoughts.
I drift off to sleep hours later, the pillow wet with tears, and my heart empty.
11
Nina
I pull my tattered blanket up over my head and press play on my iPod. It’s not mine. It’s my best friend, Lucy’s. She said she would be in trouble for giving it to me, but she thought it might drown out the shouting.
I call it shouting, but I think it’s something else. It sounds like a strangled cry, grunts and groans that seep through the thin walls of our damp house.
She tells me to stay in my room, not to come out until she comes to get me, but she never comes. And I never leave. Afraid that whatever is on the other side of the door will get me into trouble, or worse, take her away from me again. My mummy is all I have, and they already tried to take me once.
I squeeze my eyes shut as the banging starts. Rough groans and deep grunts flow past the music. Is she in pain? Should I help her?
A rush of cool liquid runs from my nose, pooling on the seam of my lips. I dab it with my finger finding blood.
Why is my nose bleeding…?
In a panic, I do something silly. Something I know I shouldn’t. I run for my mother. “Mummy, Mummy.” I push open her door, standing on the threshold unable to move, unable to look away. What is he doing to my mummy? His eyes find me first, a grim smile taking over his face as he stands behind her, hitting into her bottom.
“Get rid of the little fucker!” he shouts, making me flinch.
My mother’s eyes flare wide when she sees me. “Nina! Go now. What are you doing?”
Oh no, she’s mad at me.
“My nose.”
I wipe my nose with the back of my hand, but it comes away clean. I frown at the paleness of my bony hand. My eyes lift back to my mother’s, but before they can find hers, a strong, calloused fist connects with my face.
“Nina!” My mother’s voice rings out as everything fades to black.
“Nina!”
“Nina!”
“Nina!”
Mason?
Mase
Tortured cries have me bolting upright in bed. I gave up on Nina letting me in after she locked me out, and her soft cries haunted me for hours after as I sat outside her door, waiting until I was sure she was asleep.
But now she is crying again, and it’s not the same cries as before. It’s a tormented shrill. She sounds in pain.
I jolt from the bed, my head working faster than my body, causing me to stumble to the floor in my haste. I run down the hall and try the handle, knowing it will be locked.
“Nina! Open the door!” I shout, slapping my hand on the wood. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”
Nothing.
“Nina!” I continue to rap my knuckles on the wood.
A broken wail seeps from the room, and the fear in her cries wrap around my throat, threatening to strangle me.
“What the fuck?” I pull on the handle, trying to force it open.
“Nina. Please just open the door!” I shout, punching the plaster surround. “Fuck!”
I let my head fall to the door, feeling at a loss as she continues to cry.
I hear a thud followed by a howl, a chilling, blood-curdling sound that has me taking two steps back. Panic fills me, feeling unhinged at my lack of control. I square my shoulders, lunging into the door and taking the lock clean off the wall. The plush carpet breaks my fall, but I barely touch the ground before I’m around the bed and kneeling at her feet.
She is curled into herself, arms wrapped protectively around her knees.
“Nina,” I rasp, my chest rising and falling rapidly.
“Nina, baby.”
I reach out to touch her, and her eyes snap to mine. Red-rimmed and wild, pure fear etched on her beautiful face. “Nina,” I frown. “It’s okay. I’m here.”
Her body shakes uncontrollably, dripping in sweat. I try to grasp the blanket she’s holding from her hands, but she grips it tighter, flinching as I retract my hand.
What the fuck?
“The blood. So much blood,” she mutters, sounding crazed.
I start to search her body but fail to find any blood.
“Nina, you’re not bleeding. There is no blood. I’m here, it’s me, Mase,” I say softly, unsure as to what I should do.
She squeezes her eyes tight, opening and closing them until her wary eyes find me. “Mase?” she asks.
“Yes, I’m here.” I grab her, seizing the opportunity whilst she lets me. “Fucking hell.” My heart hammers in my chest as I sit on the floor, holding her tight. Her body is slick with sweat, her hair damp.
“Mase,” she cries, fisting my T-shirt and burrowing deeper into my chest. She breaks down in my arms.
For the first time I see her distinctively. No barrier, no wall, just raw, unfiltered pain—it’s what I wanted, right?
More than just her body.
“Nina, I’m going to get you in the shower. Is that okay?”
“Why? The blood?” She panics.
“No, no blood. You’re just really hot.”
“Okay.”
She looks up at me, my chest aching with the hurt in her eyes.
God, this is all my fault.
Why did I bring that shit up with her mum?
I lift her in my arms, carrying her to the en suite. I don’t put her down, walking in the shower with her locked tight in my arms. I reach in and turn on the spray, sitting with my back to the wall as the warm water runs over her.
She lies broken in my arms.
My beautiful broken Pixie.
“He hit me,” she whispers after a few minutes of silence.
“Who?” I demand, fighting to keep my voice steady.
“I don’t know. I never knew their names, but he hit me. At least, I think he did.”
Rage flits through my every orifice, every organ, every single nerve, burning with white-hot rage. I take a deep breath, knowing I can’t be mad right now, pushing it to the back of my mind until I can use it to unleash. And I will.
“Nina, it was just a nightmare. It wasn’t real. I’m here now.” I lift her chin, bringing her face to mine.
Her eyes lack the light that shone in them just hours ago.
“You hurt me.”
I close my eyes. Shit. “I’m so sorry, Nina,” I force ou
t, fuming at myself. I’m such a prick. “I didn’t mean what I said.”
“Please leave me alone,” she states, eyes lost.
“You think I’d fucking leave you alone right now?”
“You leave, or I will.”
“Let me help you.” I try to hug her tighter, but she climbs from my lap, crawling to the other end of the shower.
“Please,” she begs. “I need to be on my own right now.”
Fuck. It takes everything inside me to stand and move my feet to the door, praying it’s the right thing to do.
I go back to my room, shedding my wet clothes from my body and launching them at the TV as my anger surfaces. Sitting down on the edge of my bed, I run my hands through my hair with absolutely no idea how to fix the fractured soul I can’t seem to figure out.
Nina
Climbing from the shower floor, I drag myself up and under the spray, washing my body clean, wishing I could erase the images in my head. Maybe I should have let Mason hold me, but for all the reasons I wanted him to, there were twice as many as to why I didn’t. He believes that to care is to know everything, all the things I would have told him if he had just asked. He is wrong. You can care for someone and not know their secrets, exactly how I did for him.
He took what he wanted without asking, which I could have got over—I was prepared to swallow my dignity and take his controlling nature in my stride. But that was before he trampled on my pride.
His words were the beginning of the end. He doesn’t get to hurt me, especially when he doesn’t even know me.
No amount of digging will expose the reality that lives with me.
Once I’m dried off, I wrap myself in a towel and leave the bathroom. I find Mason sitting on his bed, his head in his hands. His hair spiked out all over the place.
‘He means well, love, he’s not a bad bloke.’
I push Vinny’s voice from my head.
What I would give to go to him, to let him hold me like before, and to let him tell me it’s all okay.