Текст книги "Sweet Obsession "

Автор книги: J. Daniels

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Текущая страница: 18 (всего у книги 21 страниц)

Oh. Ohhhh. Eat something here. Right. Excellent choice.

“Anyone else home, sweetheart?”

I watch Mason’s hands lower to his belt. My neck warms.

“No,” I answer, shaking my head as he steps closer. “No, they went out. They won’t be back for a while.”

“Good. I’ve been hard all day.”

My gaze flicks up to his. “You have?”

The sound of the belt loosening draws my attention back down. The sharp whip of leather.

Mason grabs my hand and presses it against his cock through the fabric of his pants. He moans. The stiff organ twitches in my palm.

“Oh,” I gasp, molding my hand to him. “God . . .”

“Ever since this morning, Brooke.”

He tips my chin up, looking at me while he uses my hand to stroke his length. The front of his pants becomes restrictive. My pulse quickens to a galloping pace.

“I keep hearing your voice telling me you’re with me, and I get so fucking hard.”

I grip his shirt, reaching for a kiss. “I’m with you.”

His breath bursts across my mouth. “Brooke.”

“Take me. Here. Right here.”

He grabs my breast roughly and squeezes, giving me the briefest of kisses before my head rolls to the side with a moan.

“I want you wet,” he says, kissing the line of my neck. Moving his breath over my skin. I shudder when I feel teeth. “So wet that when I bend down and lick that sweet pussy you drip down the back of my throat.”

“Mason, Jesus.” My hand goes stagnant against his cock. My other squeezing his waist. “That won’t be a problem.”

God, what his filthy mouth does to me. I’m worried my legs might give out soon.

He backs me against the bar counter, his thumb rubbing mercilessly over my nipple through the thin fabric of my dress.

I make quiet little noises against his shirt when he tugs on the hardened peak.

“I want you to milk my cock with these.” He runs his hand between my breasts. “And this.” He smooths his thumb over my mouth, then slides his hand beneath my dress and cups my throbbing sex.

His eyes flicker. I nearly shoot off the ground.

“Mm. Think I might start with this.”

“Fuck. Please.”

I grab his face and kiss him, and it becomes a battle of who can kiss harder, firmer, who can steal the other’s breath away faster as both of our hands fumble between us, him popping the button on his pants and my fingers tugging on the zipper. He frees his cock. I hike up my dress. My thong stays in place, Mason slipping his finger under the wet fabric and tugging it aside. He runs his digit through my slit.

“Jesus,” he moans. His eyes lowering as mine threaten to roll back in my head. “Tits out, gorgeous.”

I pull the neckline of my dress down.

Bossy Mason. Yummy.

My breasts pop free, the cool air of the condo assaulting my nipples. I squeak when he grips the back of my thighs and lifts me, bringing us chest to chest, my hands gripping his hair and his palming my ass and squeezing.

He buries his face in my neck. “Want you. Want you so fucking bad I can’t think.”

“Take me. Please,” I groan, biting my lip when he slowly lowers me onto his cock. My legs shake as he stretches me. “Mason . . . oh, fuck.”

He bounces me up and down, fucking me in the middle of my friends’ condo, with our clothes still on and the cold metal of his zipper rubbing against my clit. Biting at my flesh. It hurts and it’s heaven. Fuck, he’s so big I fear he might rip me in half, but even the threat of death wouldn’t stop me from taking this. From allowing him to use my body for his pleasure, which is exactly what he’s doing. I have no control right now. He’s manipulating my weight, lowering me onto his cock at the pace and ferocity he wants, and every time I gasp in shock or squirm in his arms, he revels in my response by giving it to me harder. Faster. Squeezing my thighs until they sting as he shows me how fierce his need is for me, which only solidifies my longing for him.

I’ve kept him hard since this morning. He’s punishing me in the sweetest way for it.

Take me. Take me. Just don’t let me go.

With parted lips he looks into my eyes, our faces inches apart as his shallow breaths bathe my skin and absorb into my lungs.

I feel drugged.

I want to taste him in my soul. I want to feel him moving in my blood. I want to consume and be consumed by this man. Only him.

Love is a madness I will willingly accept if he’s the one pulling me under.

“Brooke . . . goddamn.” He thrusts his hips steadily. “So good. So good, baby.”

God, I love it when he calls me that.

My fingers tug at Mason’s hair as I lean forward and moan into his mouth. I feel my orgasm tickling my spine. “I’m close. Where do you want to come?” I ask, watching the sweat bead on his brow. His nostrils flaring.

He keeps me on the tip of his cock, slowly lowering and lifting me. He sucks on my lips. “Where can I?” His voice is strained. He’s close too.

“Anywhere.”

“Anywhere?” He leans back and studies my face.

I smirk. I can’t help myself.

Tensing my thighs, I arch into him and reach behind me, fisting his cock. I position him at my back entrance.

He sucks in a breath. His eyes as round as quarters as he stares at me. “Brooke.”

“Anywhere,” I whisper against his mouth, slowly applying pressure to the head of his cock, easing him past that tight ring of muscle.

I take in slow, deep breaths, controlling my breathing.

Mason isn’t controlling much of anything.

“Baby,” he rasps, his shoulders and arms tensing, his chest heaving as he slips inside, just an inch, maybe not even that much. Growling like a caged animal, the cords in his neck threatening to burst, he lifts me off his cock and reaches between us, stroking himself furiously against my clit. “Ah, fuck . . . Brooke, fuck!” he yells, the first spurts of cum hitting my stomach and the bunched material of my dress. The rest of his desire coating my sex and his fingers.

Bliss.

“Wow,” I breathe, dragging my lips along his cheek, moaning at the warm sensation between my legs. “That was crazy.”

And hot.

Mason snarls, leaning away and looking down between us. I swear he sways on his feet.

“Shit, Brooke. Fuck. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I got it on your dress.”

“Shh.” I reach down and grab his dick, pressing it where I ache the most. Our eyes lock. “Need to come.”

Huffing out a breath, he moves us to a nearby stool and sits me on it. His cock wet and heavy against my thigh. With his hand between my legs and his lips moving across my skin, he brings me to orgasm within seconds, pressing sweet words against my cheek and dirty ones into my ear.

He tells me I’m beautiful, the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen, and that he’ll be coming in my ass soon enough.

My tight, fuckable ass.

I moan against his shirt, panting as I come down from my climax. He grabs my face and kisses me.

“You.” He smiles against my mouth. “A little warning next time, yeah? Give a bloke some time to prepare.”

“Ah, come on. Where’s the fun in that?” I giggle, stroking his face and pushing his hair back. I take a long look at him. “You’re beautiful too, Mason. Your heart and your body. Your soul. I’m so lucky.”

His eyes appear dimmer as he stares back at me. A dulled shadow passing over him.

Maybe he feels drugged too?

“Sweet girl, come on.”

He scoops me up and carries me into the bedroom, my bare feet kicking out. He strips off my dress and we both clean up between kisses and lingering touches.

“Will that come out I hope?” Mason tightens his belt and watches me rinse my dress in the bathroom sink. Our gazes lock in the mirror. He looks regretful. “Really, really sorry.” He bends down and kisses the side of my head.

I smile, wringing out the material and turning off the water. “I’m going to get it dry-cleaned. That’ll be a fun stain to illuminate on.” I pretend I’m handing off the garment. “My boyfriend got a little excited during anal. Can you press this for me?”

Mason rubs at his face, groaning.

Lord, his embarrassment is adorable.

I laugh and elbow his stomach as I move past him.

“Wanna watch a movie? We can order take-out and stay in.”

He nods. “Yeah, all right. What movie?”

“I don’t care. I have a bunch out there in my room if you wanna look. There’s more out by the T.V.”

I throw my dress over the shower curtain rod so it will dry. I can drop it off at the cleaners tomorrow when I go to work.

“I’m just going to use the bathroom and then I’ll be out.”

He jerks his chin and steps out into my bedroom, pulling the door closed behind him.

I use the toilet, looking up at my dress.

My boyfriend got a little excited during anal.

Or . . .

The man I want to spend forever with got a little excited during anal.

Mm, yes. I like that better.

After washing my hands, I stand in front of the bathroom mirror and run my fingers through my messy hair. It looks lifeless. I tug on the ends and my curls spring back. I twist the front pieces. A sticky substance clings to the pads of my fingers.

“What the . . .” I hold my hand in front of my face, grimacing. “Really?”

I grab my shampoo out of the shower. Gathering my hair over one shoulder, I bend over the sink and scrub my ends, rinsing out the suds and semen.

Only you, Brooke. Only you would get cum in your hair after spending hours styling it.

I laugh when I think about Mason finding out he got his spunk in my hair.

Would he be as apologetic as he was for my dress?

I towel dry the ends a bit so they aren’t dripping and tuck the front pieces behind my ears. I pinch my cheeks and apply some chapstick from the drawer before padding out into my room.

“Finding anything? I’m in the mood for something funny,” I yell out, grabbing a new pair of panties out of my dresser and slipping them on.

Mason doesn’t answer. He’s probably engrossed in whatever it is he picked out.

I open another drawer and pull out a pair of linen shorts and a tank, tossing them on my bed. I apply another layer of vanilla body lotion to my arms, legs, and neck before getting dressed and moving through the doorway.

Mason’s back is to me as he stands beside the couch, blocking my view of the T.V., the remote in his hand.

Nothing is playing. At least I don’t hear anything.

Why didn’t he answer me?

I come up behind him and slide my hands around his waist. His body tenses.

“Hey,” I whisper. “Pick something out?”

“Yeah, sure did.” He quickly steps out of my arms and moves beside me, freeing up my sight. “Care to explain this?”

Startled at his abrupt pull-away and the tone icing his voice, I glance up at the T.V., at the stilled image of myself, naked and straddling another man. The camera angled on me from the side.

I remember setting it on the hamper before I crawled on the bed.

Fuck, I forgot about this.

Fuck! How much has he watched?

“You made a sex tape, Brooke? Are you fucking kidding me?” His voice booms through the condo, echoing off the ceiling.

The hairs on my neck stand up. I’ve never heard him this angry before.

I’ve never heard him angry at all.

Lowering my hand from my mouth, I turn to Mason. “Where did you find this?” I ask, moving closer.

“Your room. It had your name on it. I thought it was a home video or something.”

His shoulders stay hunched forward. His gaze straight ahead, burning into the screen.

I picture the disc on my shelf. I had stuck it up there and left it. I haven’t touched it since.

“You as a kid, or with your mates. I wanted to see that,” he adds, rubbing at his mouth. “Not this,” he mumbles.

I pinch my eyes shut, then shake my head, looking up. “I forgot it was in there. I’m so, so sorry. Here. Turn it off.”

He wrenches his arm away when I reach for him. His cold eyes send a shiver through me. “Don’t.”

I pull back. He doesn’t want me to touch him? “Mason.”

“You were in there awhile. I got to watch the whole thing. You and him.” He jerks his head at the T.V. .

The pain in his voice distorts his accent a bit. His words sound stiff. Fully pronounced, unlike the lazy, sluggish speech I’m used to hearing and loving.

I press my fingers to my mouth, shaking slightly.

Oh, God. He watched the whole thing.

“No,” I whisper.

Any part of this, a second or a glimpse is too much for him to see. But all of it?

He slowly turns his head, his blue eyes so dark they almost look black. “The whole fucking thing, Brooke.”

My stomach drops. “Mason, I . . . just, turn it off.” I reach out again. “Let’s get rid of this. You shouldn’t keep looking at it.”

“Why not?”

He tosses the remote. It hits the coffee table with a loud pang.

I jump. “Mason.”

“Why the fuck not? I’ve watched it. It’s out in the open now. It’s no longer a secret.”

“It was never a secret.”

“Yeah? Everyone knew about it but me, huh? When was this taken, Brooke?” he asks, looming over me. His pain shifting to a louder reaction. Anger. “When I wasn’t fucking you? Did you go out and get it somewhere else?”

“W-What?” I blink up at him, my voice sounding miles away.

Is he seriously implying I’ve been screwing around on him?

“No! This was months ago. Before I met you. How could you say that?”

“How could I say that?” he laughs darkly. His lips curling against his teeth. “I don’t know. Maybe because that’s all you’ve cared about this entire time. I was just a hard dick you wanted, right? And you weren’t getting it.”

“No, you weren’t . . .” My voice shakes. Tears well up in my eyes.

What is happening?

“No?” he asks, disbelieving. He runs a rough hand down his face. I catch the slight tremble in it. “Jesus Christ. Why do you even have this? Do you fucking watch it? Do you and your mates sit around and get off on this together?”

I gape at him, expecting him to recoil at his own words. To apologize and take them back, but he doesn’t. He stares at me with nothing but disgust and anger swelling in his eyes. Maybe a hint of sadness. A shred of what I’m feeling.

I’m having a nightmare. This can’t be real.

I ball up my fists as tears spill onto my cheeks. “No, we don’t. I have it so he doesn’t have it. I took it months ago, after it was filmed, months ago. I’ve never watched it. What is wrong with you?”

He gestures at the T.V., bending to get closer. “I just watched you getting fucked by someone else. You. And you’re going to ask what’s wrong with me? I just saw another man having his hands on you, his dick in you, and the woman I care about more than anything getting off on it. I just watched you fucking come!”

“You were never supposed to see that! I forgot I even had it. Jesus Christ,” I cry, wiping at my face, my entire body trembling. “I don’t even remember that guy’s name.”

I regret it the second the words fall past my lips.

I know how this sounds. Careless. Even worse than that.

His eyes widen. Mouth slack as he straightens a bit. “Well, that makes me feel a whole lot better, Brooke. You make these tapes with just anyone, yeah? Are there more in your room? Or do you keep them out here for everyone to watch?”

Flinching, I look away. “Stop,” I plead, whimpering quietly against my hand.

Please, stop.

“Christ. Did you . . .” Mason’s harsh voice trails off. He moves to turn away but I grip his shoulder, forcing him to look at me.

I know. I don’t know how, but I know what he wants to ask me. And if he has the balls to think it, he can fucking . . .

“Say it,” I urge, my lip quivering, my rage consuming me. “What were you going to say? Say it!”

My hands push and pull at his chest. I can’t decide what I want, him closer or far enough away I can’t hit him. I’m so mad, so shattered. I want him to comfort me and then stand there and take my abuse.

“Fucking say it, Mason!”

Fat tears stream steadily down my face.

He looks down at me, his own eyes brimming now. “Did you tell me all of that just so I would fuck you?”

“What do you think?” I ask him, but I can’t hear my own voice. It’s so quiet compared to the blood rushing in my veins. To my heartbeat pounding in my skull.

I want to scream and scream. I want to wake up.

Wake up! Wake up! Wake up!

Mason looks away. He doesn’t say a word, but the answer I hear is so fucking loud it rings in my ears and reminds me just how real this is. I’m not stuck in a dream, or a nightmare.

I’m awake. I’m awake and I’m alone. Drowning.

I cry silently, my shoulders shaking. “I did,” I whisper, grabbing his stare, which goes from shock to crippling grief in an instant.

Why? I’m only confirming what he thinks.

I tilt my wobbling chin up to get closer. “I did. It was all a lie. All of it. Everything I said to you. Everything I gave. When I chose you . . .” I sob, sniffing and weeping in my sorrow.

I don’t even care. God, let him see me like this. Let him see what he’s done.

He nods, turning away and wiping at his own face now. “Fine.” He moves with purpose toward the door, his feet heavy on the carpet.

I follow behind. “You think it. It must be true. Nothing mattered to me. Our dates and that night in the tent. Yesterday and the day before and the day before that. So go! Leave! Get out knowing you meant nothing and I hate you! I will hate you for this!”

He pauses at the door, his head lowered and his hand gripping the knob. His shoulders lifted in tension. His back shaking.

This is it. That one second we have to take everything back. To tell the truth and admit our wrongs. To forgive and move forward.

To make this nothing more than a nightmare.

Reach for me. Reach for me. Take me. Don’t let me go.

I open my mouth to speak but nothing comes out. Nothing, but a whimpering cry.

Without a sound, without giving me another look or word or pleading glance, Mason swings the door open and exits the condo.

Probably for the last time.

I dart across the room and fling myself into bed, letting my tears fall. I cry for hours, clutching at my pillow, biting and screaming into it until my voice cracks and my throat burns.

The pain, God, the pain in my chest. This ache. I feel like I’m dying.

How could he say those things? How could he even think them?

Mason.

I sob, picturing his face, staring at that T.V. like a man possessed, ready to explode. Scream or cry, I couldn’t tell. Then, the disgust simmering in his eyes when he told me what he watched. The hurt. Tears welling up and threatening when he asked me if I ever really loved him, and the agony on his face when I lied.

I gasp and clutch at my chest.

God, someone rip this out of me. Take it away so I don’t feel anything anymore.

“Brooke, sweetie, are you okay?”

I hear Billy’s voice hours later, after the darkness rolls into my bedroom and blankets me. I open my swollen eyes, trying to see through the tears. Light from the outside room spills across the ceiling. I squint, focusing on Joey’s face as he sits beside me. Billy looks on, standing next to the bed.

“What’s going on?” Joey asks, studying me. His hand squeezing my shoulder. “And what the hell is that out there on the T.V.? Is that you?”

I cover my face and wail, sobbing into my hands.

How do I still have any tears left?

“Oh, no. What happened?” Joey rubs my arm. “Is it Mason? Did you two get into a fight?”

I sit up and draw my knees against my chest. I wipe the wetness from my cheeks even though it’s pointless. New tears fall.

“Yes, we got into a fight. A huge fucking fight. He found that disc in my room and he watched it. All of it. I didn’t know until it was too late. I forgot I even had it.”

Joey’s eyes go wide. “From like, six months ago? The Cuban guy?”

“Yes!” I shriek. Thank you! Both men startle. “Yes, from six months ago! Mason accused me of making that after him and I started hanging out. He said I only cared about fucking and since I wasn’t getting it from him, I probably went somewhere else.” My lip trembles. “He said so much,” I whisper, remembering everything and feeling that pain in the center of my chest swelling inside me. “He was so mad, and mean. God, he was mean. He made me feel like a,” I pause, biting my tongue and shaking my head.

No. No, I won’t say it. Don’t even think it.

Whore.

My eyes sting.

“You know he didn’t mean any of that,” Billy says, moving closer and tugging at the knot in his tie. “He was reacting, Brooke. How I’m sure a lot of us would react if we saw what he saw. He loves you.”

“It still doesn’t make it acceptable,” Joey snaps. He waves a hand in my direction. “Look at her. Look at how upset she is.”

“I’m sure he was just as upset, if not more.”

“He was upset,” I whisper, feeling two sets of eyes on me as I stare at the comforter. “Seeing that, it hurt him.”

“Good.”

I look up at Joey, then at Billy. Both of them reacting two different ways to this.

Staring at them is like physically being able to dig my heart out of my chest and look at it in my hands. There would be a line drawn down the middle. Two bleeding sides of me, reacting with equal passion and reason.

I hate Mason for what he said, but I get what pushed him to say it.

I love him. I love him, but I want him to feel what I’m feeling right now.

Sighing, feeling like every muscle in my body has been stretched and pummeled with a thousand fists, with my eyes burning and tears leaking and dripping down my face, I scoot down the bed and curl against my pillow again, clutching it to my chest.

A hand strokes my leg. “It’ll be okay, Brooke. It will. I promise,” Billy reassures me.

I wish I can take comfort in that. Maybe tomorrow he can tell me again and it’ll sink in.

Joey pushes my hair off my face and kisses my forehead. “Is there anything you want me to do? Issue a few death threats? Egg someone’s fancy new studio?”

I close my eyes. “Just get me out of bed tomorrow. I need to practice on that wedding cake.”

“You got it.”

I hear his footsteps trailing away.

“Oh, and Joey?” I lift my head.

He braces himself in the doorway, raising an expectant eyebrow.

“Get rid of that fucking disc.”