"Secrets I have held in my heart, are harder to hide than I thought. Maybe I just wanna be yours, I wanna be yours, I wanna be yours."

❀

There are moments you cherish in life. Moments when you feel as though you're a broken piece of glass, but then someone comes along who carries the magic glue to piece you back together again. To fill the cracks, sew the severed fragments of your heart and replace all those somber dark memories with something lighter, brighter and warm.

That someone, the magic glue, the shield protecting me from all my demons, the voice reminding me that I'm not alone is none other than Mason West.

When the two of us got back to Jessica's he practically carried me over to the shower, helped me undress despite my attempts to do it myself, and washed every inch of my skin, leaving behind trails of kisses in every area he cleansed.

Then the thai food arrived and he gave me his wallet to pay the delivery man while he continued to get dressed, and as my bare feet wandered over to the front door, mind questioning how appropriate it is to open it in nothing but Mason's Tshirt, something fell onto the hardwood floor below me.

I picked it up, turned it around and my eyes widened.

What fell out of Mason's wallet was a picture. A picture of us.

The one I showed him outside the treehouse, the one I left in my shoebox all these years he placed in his wallet.

I didn't have time to over analyze it, because by the time the magnitude of the situation hit me the doorbell rang for the second time. So I placed it back inside his wallet and for the rest of the night, while we ate food and watched the next Marvel movie, after he spread open my legs and made due on his promise to show me just how much he appreciates me, while he held me close, whispered sweet nothings in my ear and kissed me goodnight I didn't say a thing about it.

But my heart swelled.

And for the first time since this arrangement between the two of us started, something different filled the cracks, something I've tried to let go of, something sharp and more painful than I imagined it'd feel.

Hope.

❀

The next morning, while half my brain is still lost in whatever dream I was having and my mind gradually forms a coherent ball of consciousness, I wake up to the feeling of calloused fingers brushing against my cheekbone, and a pair of soft lips kissing my temple not once, not twice, but three times.

My eyes slowly flutter open to find the culprit. The window is cracked, letting in a light breeze, the morning sun casting a yellow glow across his face and my chest aches at the sight. He's propped up with one elbow digging into the mattress, his other hand resting gently along the side of my face, eyes staring down at me. There's a look in his eyes that's turning me inside out and when the corners of his lips rise ever so slightly mine can't help but follow suit.

"Good morning, beautiful." He says to me, and a flurry of birds fly through my stomach as they do everytime he looks at me like this.

His eyes gleam over me as his thumb continues its movements along my cheekbone, gently swiping back and forth in such an intimate way that I've become blind to all the warning signs blaring in the back of my head. But as the expression on my face turns tender, mind trying not to become so dependent on waking up in the mornings with him by my side, I notice something different about him, something off.

I groan, my body shifting closer to his chest as the fingers once resting on my cheek go down to my lower back, brushing at the skin.

"Why are you wearing a shirt?" I complain, realizing I've already grown reliant on my first sightings of the day being not only Mason in the bed, but a shirtless Mason.

It's not only the skin, or all the muscles- even though I'm not hating those either-, it's the warmth it provides, the feeling of his heart beating steadily under my cheek as I lie above him. And sometimes, during the moments when I make him laugh, or when the ends of his lips curl and his eyes gleam, I almost swear it beats faster under me.

Almost certain.

Sometimes I imagine that those beats are for me.

Oh boy, I really am a goner.

He ducks his head down lower so tiny puffs of each breath he takes hits the shell of my ear, "Care to undress me?"

I make the most dignified mewling sound I can muster, "Too lazy."

And with that, my fingers find the hem of his shirt and I lift it high enough for me to tuck my head inside. The darkness under his shirt feels like my little safe haven. My nose lightly grazes against the curvature of abdominal muscle this man has and the scent of him hits me hard, reminding me of last night when he laid me down under him, claimed me, marked me, making me feel for a brief moment that I could be his. That this is real.

The warm sound of his laughter vibrates through every wall that surrounds us, the sound alone seeping through my skin and sending a chill down my spine since it's still one I'm not quite used to. But then I realize what he must be laughing at. It's me. He's laughing at me because I've somehow found my head under his shirt.

These are the times where I ask myself why in the world this man would ever want to fuck me. Repeatedly.

"Comfortable in there?"

I smile bigger than I normally would since he can't see me, "As much as I appreciate being woken up by your kisses, I'm still tired and I intend to sleep. Now stop laughing, my head keeps bouncing up and down."

He only laughs harder, and the sound alone is my own lullaby, music to my ears. I can almost picture it- the way his lips widen, perfect pearly white teeth on full display, it's truly a sight to behold. I use my arm to wrap around his torso, hugging him so tightly against me that his heartbeats crash into his chest and topple onto mine, nearly falling back asleep when I feel the tips of his fingers writing secret messages along my skin.

"As... oddly arousing as this is, I wanted to tell you that your car is here."

My voice sounds a bit muffled since I'm buried deep under his shirt, "Are you kicking me out?"

I hear a noise that sounds like it could have been a small chuckle, but before he responds his arms only hug me tighter, letting me know that me leaving him is the last thing he wants. The feeling I get from such a simple action perplexes my mind even more.

The sound of his voice, the words he speaks, the way his face lights up when he smiles, the unspoken words I can almost see in his eyes when he stares into mine- I can never decide what pulls me in more. Every bit of it feels like a rare gift because I know everything he does with me is new to him, I can see it on his face when he laughs that the sound isn't unfamiliar to only my ears. But still, I snatch those gifts up and store them somewhere inside me to savor for later.

"Far from that, actually. Your car is here so you don't have to worry about getting it later."

Each word that comes out of his mouth takes longer than it should to process in my still sleep dazed brain, but once they do my body reacts, muscles moving until my head slips out from under his shirt. His green eyes connect with mine and my heart picks up speed from the way he's looking at me. I almost want to curse at him for looking so good, even in the mornings, and when I glance down at his lips, noticing how the corners are now quirked upwards I just know I must look like a mess.

I sigh, ignoring my appearance, "I thought I told you last night I could go with you-"

"And I told you that you should sleep." His fingers work their way up my back slowly, sliding off my shoulders until they find themselves in my hair. I'm momentarily speechless while he pushes my hair back to frame my face, sofly flattening the flyaways from the static in his shirt. "You had a rough night last night..." He says, gradually leaning into me, "And then you came back here and that was exactly what I gave you."

His eyes dilated, making them darken and droop very slightly before amusement fills his expression while something hot surges through me. I just look at him, taking a second to wonder if he's aware of how the reminder of everything he did to me last night has an entire new feeling whirling around in my heart that I don't even have a name for.

Yes, at times it was rough. But before those moments he would spend his time exploring my body and learning everything that brought me pleasure. He would leave me quivering under him, languid and drugged in bliss after every session. There were times it felt so passionate I wanted to cry, and not because of the sex, but because of everything else he did. How soft and gentle his voice was, how he would look me in the eyes to make sure it was okay, how he spent time just kissing along my skin, whispering things to me that made me feel as though my body was thrumming to life from his lips alone.

He took care of me.

I was a wreck last night and he took care of me. Even now, it's difficult for me to look at him without reliving it. The feel of his skin against mine, his touch, his scent, the new sensation it brings is starting to be too much for me.

And I mentally scream at him because he looks into my eyes for a little too long for this not to be real.

I hold myself up on my elbows, my stomach flat on the mattress, gaze looking directly at Mason now leaning against the headboard. I wish I could spend all day here, in his bed, tangled up in the sheets. But I'm trapped somewhere between wanting to reveal my true feelings for the man sitting in front of me, or pretending that keeping them to myself isn't the most exquisite form of self destruction.

"How are you this morning?" He asks, his eyes searching for hidden clues, and a small part of me finds it funny how he can sense when something is off before he can physically see it.

I give him a small smile, "Better."

He leans into me and alarm sirens wail off inside my head over the fact that I still haven't brushed my teeth. I become painfully aware of the chalkiness inside my mouth until it starts to overwhelm me, and before I know it, I recoil away from his kiss, putting more distance between us.

His eyebrows furrow, but he doesn't seem to be affected by my sudden refusal, "Is you rejecting my kisses going to become a habit of yours? Because I must say, it really is a confidence booster."

I'm unable to stop the laugh from leaving my mouth, "I need to brush my teeth."

"And I don't care." His body quickly tackles mine down into the mattress, both his hands hovering on either side of my face so he isn't putting all his weight on me. There's something dark, perverse in his eyes as he inches closer to me, close enough his breath tickles the skin of my ear, "Come here."

Just as he leans down for a real kiss I quickly use my hand to cover his mouth. He rolls his eyes and I smile up at him as he feigns irritation. I keep the tone of my voice light and playful with just the right amount of teasing, "Well, what if I want to use my tongue?"

I release my hand from his mouth, instead giving into my own desires and run my thumb along his smooth bottom lip. He opens his mouth and gently bites the tip of my finger for a second or two, and as I lie under him, mesmerized by the sight of his teeth around my finger he places a kiss on the back of the skin.

"Please do. I quite like your tongue."

Oh, yes. He seemed to like it very much last night.

"Now are you going to kiss me or am I going to have to beg? Because I will. On my knees, in song if I have to." More laughs climb up my throat but he only stares down at me, expression on his face showing no sign of this being a joking matter. "You realize you're talking to a man who has asked to eat your ass on multiple occasions, right?"

It's true. He has.

"I don't know whether I should feel flattered or disturbed."

He starts to smile, and I take a mentally capture the beautiful moment. He sets his hand on my cheek, thumb absentmindedly grazing my cheekbones just as he was when I was sleeping. Such a simple touch, and yet I feel it all the way to my toes. He inspects me, his eyes, his fingers, mapping the topography of my face. The tip of his nose skims mine, lips a close inch away and heated lightning zips through my veins, my pulse going into cardiac territory.

"The former. Always the former... Now come here."

I bury the uneasiness in me, the intensity of my own desire walloping me over the head, and as he draws his mouth down closer to mine I watch his eyes flutter closed. I mimic his movements, and when his lips meet mine a breathless sound comes unbidden up my throat.

I soak in the feel of it, hoping it'll silence the fear inside me, suddenly having an urgent need for everything to be calm in my world. I kiss him and think to myself, wondering if he can sense all the doubts threatening to fall from my lips, if he notices how the mere touch of him has the power to annihilate all my apprehension, even if it's only for a few moments.

Because everyday, I'm reminded how my feelings aren't growing in a measured, linear way- they're expanding, crashing down like a wave inside of me. Mason never promised me anything other than a culmination of unyielding desire between the two of us. But this isn't it. This is a deeper level- much deeper. Ugh, why can't I have mind-blowing, earth-shattering sex without the risks of getting a broken heart in the process?

His body is humming with demands, each touch of his lips growing with intensity. And by the sixth-seventh-eighth(?) kiss, his grip on my face tightens and something close to a groan escapes his mouth. I arch into him, my breasts rubbing against the fabric of his shirt until there's no space between our bodies. He skims a rough hand up my side, slowly trailing up my ribs before kneading one of my breasts and I let out a small sound, a helpless moan.

But then I feel his tongue sweep along the seam of my lips, attempting to take control and within an instant I'm reminded of why we lasted so long doing closed-mouthed kisses in the first place.

I need to brush my teeth.

Using my hands, I gently push him until his back hits the mattress; until he's lying beside me, panting, shamelessly aroused and eager for more. When the two of us separate my body feels cold, the way you feel when something warm has been suddenly ripped away from you, and I fight against my own disastrous feelings, using this opportunity to chastise him instead.

"Nice try." I tell him, the blankets falling down to my waist, cool air touching my bare skin when I sit up, taking the time to crawl over him onto the other side of the bed to make my way towards his bathroom. Just as my body is over his he starts to laugh, his hand coming down onto my ass in a playful smack.

Once my bare feet hit his hardwood floors I stride casually across the room, leaving the door open to his bathroom right before I lunge for the floss and run the thread through my teeth. When nothing heinous comes free I breathe a sigh of relief and go about brushing at a more languid pace.

And then it clicks, "Wait, how did you get there to pick up my car?"

I look at myself in the mirror as I wait for a response, taking in my reflection and growing thankful that I don't look like an absolute mess this morning.

"I walked."

My hand freezes in midair for a complete millisecond, brows furrowing, toothpaste foaming my mouth when I speak next. "Walked? Mason the treehouse is on the other side of town."

I hear some movement in the next room and I spit into the sink, rinse out my mouth and pat it dry with a clean hand towel. I feel an odd sense of guilt over the fact that he had to go retrieve my car by himself. It isn't that grand of a task, but the last thing I want to be is any type of burden or inconvenience to him.

His voice is heard through the wall, "Left early. Plus I made a few stops on the way."

"Where'd you go?" I ask him, my fingers raking through the flyaways on my hair in an attempt to calm them. More seconds pass, and all I receive back is silence, "Mason?"

Growing slightly concerned, my feet tread back towards his door to see what's wrong. Maybe he didn't hear me, maybe he left and went downstairs to cook some breakfast. What I didn't expect to find is Mason sitting on his bed with a canvas bag right beside him.

"What is that?" My eyes light up with curiosity and I give him a small smile, my body gravitating towards him, feeding off his own magnetism. I've come to realize that even if there were a physical barrier between the two of us, my body still hums closer, closer.

And I give in. Every single time.

But something in the set of Mason's brows gives me the impression that he's anxious, unsettled almost.

"What's wrong?"

He lets out a long sigh, running his fingers through his hair and I take in the nervous tick, my mind going over every possible reason why his mood could have changed so fast but I come up short.

He looks away, his eyes suddenly finding everything else in the room more interesting while he murmurs, "I got you some things."

I raise my eyebrows, trying very hard not to smile. That was the last thing I expected him to say. My heart skips a couple beats, spasms in my chest and threatens malfunction. It's clear to me that gifting people is something Mason isn't used to doing. His shoulders are slumped, eyes now on me seeking approval as if there was ever a chance what he did could have been wrong.

And I try not to, I really do, but in that instant I feel special.

I'm afraid that my feet will melt onto the floor. That the flames coursing through my veins from his words will travel up my legs and burn a hole right through me. So when his hands reach out, grabbing me by the waist I move until I'm sitting on his lap, my shoulder to his chest, his heartbeat rapid enough to be felt through the flimsy material of his shirt. The centre of me constricts when his rough hands mold themselves onto my hips, giving them a gentle squeeze.

"You didn't need to get me anything."

"I wanted to." He admits warily with a shrug, and when I give him another smile, excitement already coiling up in my gut, a small one slowly breaks free across his face, starting with his eyes and moving down towards his face in a shy relief.

He bends down, planting a kiss on my shoulder just as he places the bag right on top of my lap. The weight of it takes me by surprise, but then I notice something I hadn't before, and a giggle surpasses my lips, heart skipping yet another beat, I'm now worried it'll stop beating altogether sometime soon.

"Is this a reusable bag?"

I look back towards him, the ends of his lips curling upwards "Yes. I'm a big fan of sea turtles." He discloses, and there's something warm and gentle coming into his beautiful eyes, "Now go on, open."

A spark of excitement travels through me and I will my fingers not to tremble.

I reach my hand into the bag, pulling out the first item I touch while my gaze remains on Mason. I can see the excitement in his features, my enchantment over this simple act is affecting him, and if I didn't know any better I could swear it would resemble happiness.

I bring out the first object and right there, in a split second my predictions are proven true- my heart stops, falls out of my chest and thrashes hazardously on the floor.

"A toothbrush?"

My face mimics one a person amiable and calm would resemble. Meanwhile, my brain is shouting in all caps.

I swallow the saliva building in my mouth and it goes down slower, and louder than normal. A toothbrush. A fucking toothbrush. Okay, no way am I imagining this right? I turn it over in my hands once, twice, just to make sure it isn't all in my head.

I open my mouth to speak but nothing comes out of it so I close it and try again, "And where's this going to go?"

I'm almost ninety-nine percent sure I know full well where this is going to go, but I need him to say it. I need to watch as his lips form the words and his eyes stare into mine as he speaks them.

He runs featherlight kisses across my jaw, his mouth wet and warm as it drifts down to my collarbone right before he leans into my ear and tells me raspy, and slow, "In my bathroom, of course."

When he's not looking I quickly pinch myself.

It's almost amusing to think that here I am sitting on his lap, staring at the toothbrush in my hands like he just gave me something priceless. But I know what this is. I know what he's doing. Yesterday he asked me what I needed, and this morning he decided to give me exactly that.

Is it possible to feel overwhelmed and underwhelmed at the same time? Overwhelmed that this is happening, the deep, blistering feelings all of this is giving me. But underwhelmed to know that even after all of this, he still isn't mine.

I decide to postpone my impending inner meltdown for later and go back to the bag.

This time it feels different, everything inside is bulkier and there's a lot of it. Confused, I look inside, clamping my mouth shut in order to put an end to the laughter spewing out of me.

"Mason... You got me ten packs of makeup wipes? For someone who said I barely wear any you sure stocked up."

It seems as though I'm chastising him but really my face has lit up like a Christmas tree. I'm bright and beaming and after the night I had the sound of my own laughter sounds foreign to me, but right now my grin is demented and it's all because of him.

He shrugs, resting his chin on my shoulder to bring his mouth closer to mine, "I know I've seen your makeup wipes before, but I forgot which ones they were so I kind of got all of the ones they sold." He finally takes his eyes off my lips, gazing up at me with a devilish smile on his face, "All of these purchases may or may not have been made under the influence of cannabis."

More laughter. More smiles. More bliss.

Now that I know he was high while he made these purchases, the ten packs of makeup wipes doesn't sound so ridiculous. As my laughter dies down I embrace the smile on his face, and for the first time I'm unable to comprehend how I went three years without seeing it. He should smile all the time. Forever. At me.

He breaks eye contact first, peering inside the bag, "Oh, and those. Those are all for you."

I follow his gaze, using my hands to take out a small black lingerie bag. I don't even need to untie the silk ribbon in order to know what it is, because the brand name plastered in the middle of it is a dead giveaway. My heart pounds in my chest, throat going dry as I hesitantly pull the smooth string, revealing the contents inside.

"Mason, I..." I struggle to find any words, "This is designer lingerie..."

He tightens his hold on me, whispering in my ear, "Lace designer lingerie."

I'm frozen. Completely stock-still because Mason didn't just buy me one set, he bought multiple. Colors ranging from light to dark, lace alternating between moderately covered up to might-as-well-be-butt-naked.

I don't even have the opportunity to stop myself, because before I know it my brain is already doing the calculations. "This must have cost-"

He interrupts, "Don't worry about the cost. What I happen to do for a living pays very well. I have money, I just don't care to show it off." He says it like it's nothing, as if he just used pocket change to buy me lingerie that must have cost thousands. And I almost object, almost force him to return it, but then he looks at me, eyes softening, twinkling with something I still can't apprehend and says, "But for you I will. I want only the best for you."

I pinch myself again, looking into his eyes and using my index and middle finger to find the pulse in my wrist to make sure I'm still alive and breathing. Because just like that, the tension in my shoulders has melted, ending the ferocious battle of my overthinking.

"Plus, when I rip it off later you won't have to yell at me for it."

"Yeah, you're right. I won't yell, I'll scream. You're not ripping any of this."

"Fine. I'll be very gentle when I take it off with my teeth." His breath is hot against my cheek and the centre of me constricts.

The thought of Mason doing any of this for me has my happiness feeding off the guilt, ridding it bite by bite. He takes my chin in his hands, gripping it and turning my face towards him for him to get my undivided attention.

"This arrangement between us works fifty-fifty, I buy your lingerie..." He starts at my shoulder, kissing it slowly with closed-mouth kisses until his lips finally meet my skin, trailing up my neck, and I feel my body start to tremble when his tongue presses down on my skin, gliding up until he meets my ear, where he whispers gruffly, "And you let me take it off."

A breathless moan surpasses my lips, he sounds all raspy and low and suddenly I'm finding myself loving this fifty-fifty arrangement.

"But if anyone other than me sees you in this..." He continues, his voice husky, a bit breathless and menacing at the same time, "I'll make sure that's the last thing they ever see." The thing about his words is I can't tell if he's joking or not. A part of me thinks I could hear the light, teasing tone laced somewhere deep within. But then my gaze meets his and I visually start to be able to imagine the things he would do to another man if he laid eyes on me in such clothing.

Something tells me two broken hands would be the least of my problems.

"Do you understand?" He asks me slowly, eyes burning into mine.

There's this small sane part of me that rebuffs the idea of him doing any of that, acting out on his own threats, but then there's that other side, the larger, not-so-sane side that goes soft and warm on the inside for the meaning behind it all.

"Yes." I whisper, and then a burning question jumps into my mind, "Why'd you do this? Buy me these things?"

Vulnerability flashes through his eyes, shoulders squaring a little bit as he takes a deep breath, chest falling as he exhales.

"I know what it feels like to not want to go home." His words come out slow, as if he's saying them for the first time. "Last night I told you that growing up in my house felt like I was suffocating. But it wasn't just the house, it's this town, the memories it holds."

I understand what he's saying immediately. When my father passed and Nora left, everywhere I looked brought a new memory to the surface. I remember how reluctant I was to go home, how I hated passing the park where my dad taught me how to ride my first bike, or my favorite cafe where my Nora and I would go to in the mornings to celebrate every birthday. It brought upon a different kind of pain, a deep ache that settled itself inside my bones.

I take his hand in mine and he continues, Adam's-apple bobbing up and down as he swallows. "Everywhere I went it felt like a weight was on my chest, like I couldn't take a single breath of air. But you..." His gaze meets mine, uneasiness swimming in the hues of his eyes over what he's about to say next. "You're where I get to breathe free."

My heart squeezes like a fist, growing twice its normal size.

You're where I get to breathe free

Those words are too much. He doesn't mean it. Not like it sounds.

Still, I replay it over and over again in my head, searching for a place in my mind to store those seven words forever.

"I want the same for you." He says to me, squeezing my hand and bringing it up towards his mouth to kiss along my knuckles. "You're welcome here, anytime you like. I want to spend time with you..." He leans in, a wicked smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he whispers in my ear, "Ideally horizontally." My cheeks flush with heat, small bits of laughter spewing out from under my breath. "You can put these in my drawer, I washed them while you were sleeping."

I look at him questionably, "You want womens lingerie in your drawer?"

"No." He answers simply, "I want yours."

My heart grows and grows and grows I'm afraid it might pop

"Is that alright, that I got you these things?" I can sense him starting to overthink his actions, looking for approval in all of my responses. "I should have asked but you were asleep and I figured a surprise would be-" His rambled words are cut off as I lean in towards him until our lips meet.

Upon my own volitation my hands dance through the back of his hair, the smooth soft curls feeling like silk between my fingers. He tastes of mint, like him and all things that could ever be good in the world and without warning, I immediately start to wonder if anything will ever taste as exhilarating.

The thought alone sends an overpowering amount of sadness through me, so much so that I find myself holding back tears.

"Thank you." I whisper against his lips, our mouths faintly skimming against each others and I move around, kissing his face over and over, "Thank you,"-kiss- "thank you,"-kiss- "thank you."

He smiles under me as I do so. A real smile. A smile that lights his whole face up and is so bright and big that laughter accompanies it.

Once I'm finished I look into his eyes to find it flashing with excitement, "Try something on."

I smile broadly, the excitement exuding off him and onto me, running through my veins and filling me with anticipation. "Which color?"

He doesn't even have to look in the bag to give me an answer.

"The red."

❀

When I come out of the bathroom wearing the red lace set Mason got for me he inhales sharply, as if his eyes have never seen me before, as if it's first time doing it and the sight alone has deprived him of all oxygen. His eyes stare unabashedly at my lingerie-clad body, slowly, leisurely, and when his gaze finally meets mine something has changed in them, those soft tender eyes of his have blackened and are burning with desire and I have to stop myself from shuddering like a man in an electric chair.

I remember the first time I ever wore something like this for him. I was so nervous, so timid, but now I'm able to step out beside the door and reveal myself to him in full confidence. Mason's reactions everytime I do sure helps with that too. The bra I'm wearing features nothing but lined lace straps, using a single thick strap to cover only the nipple, leaving the rest of my breasts on full display. The g-string thong is completely see through, the lace seeming to be there only for design.

His tongue swiftly runs across his bottom lip before it drops open, but doesn't produce a single sound. It's as though everything inside his body just shut down, crashed and failed, including every crucial part of his brain.

"Baby, I have this idea- hear me out, okay." He says, his voice rougher and breathier than before. "I think you should consider wearing this- or maybe just being flat out naked- every hour of every day."

He doesn't even take his eyes off me as he says this, they're both glued onto my body, setting every inch of it aflame as I take slow steps towards him until I'm straddling his legs. His hands find my waist instantly, holding my body tight enough for my breasts to be pushed up against his chest, hardened peaks of my nipples poking through the thin material of my bra.

"That's a good idea..." I start to say, but then his hands and his tongue and his lips are everywhere. My pulse is fluttering and there's a distinguishable heat growing in between my legs while he kisses, licks, sucks all along the skin of my neck and I croon, my eyes snapping shut.

His voice comes out in a daze, "The best I've had in my twenty-one years of living, yes."

The words he speaks bring a smile to my face and my hands tangle into his hair, fingernails grazing along his scalp while he continues his open-mouthed kisses against my skin. "Well what happens when I want to go out? What does your plan entail then?"
"You see, in the world I'm imagining there's no one else. Only me and you, and I get to do this..." The palm of his hand comes down on my ass in a smack and a high pitched gasp tears through my throat, the sharp sting spreading underneath my skin, "And this..." then he leans forward, opens his mouth and takes breast in it, slightly closing his teeth around it to give it a soft and playful bite and my jaw slacks, mewling out in pleasure. "As much as I want."

My eyes jam shut for a second and I exhale a loaded breath, "I think I would like that."

His breathing is no longer even, it sounds like he just climbed a flight of stairs while carrying a wheelbarrow, and I feel my cheeks burn, tinting a delicate shade of red because I know it's all for me.

Mason's mouth works hot and sweet against the pulse behind my ear. My breath catching when he takes my earlobe between his teeth in a way that shoots straight down to my sex. "I know you would like it very much."

As I sit here in this position, Mason's lips kissing my neck, his hands holding me tight, something heavy flows through his room. It's hot and suggestive, suffocating enough to make my skin start to burn up because of how badly I want it. My heart thumps the heavy beat of a drum, and I know what I want, I also know that if I ask, if I speak my thoughts and make it real it could happen, and the thought of that alone has a different type of heat enveloping my entire body.

"I have a gift for you too." I tell him through heavy breaths, wanting to act out on my own dirty thoughts and nearly losing it when he traces his tongue across my bottom lip.

He smiles against me, still in a hypnotized sex-crazed daze, "I like gifts."

"Would you like it now, or later?"

"I've never been much of a patient man..." His kisses now go to the valley of my breasts, bringing a smile to my face, "Why start now?"

Sparks from his eagerness light my body like a flame, and while I stand in front of him, imagining him taking me raw I can feel my panties start to dampen. I've never had a man bare inside of me before, but with him I want it all, everything.

I push his hair back so he's able to look at me, staring into his soft eyes for a second and feeling an unexpected amount of nervousness travel through me. "Are you clean?"

His eyebrows furrow, my question confuses him. "Well, I showered this morning, so-"

"No, no." I interrupt, chuckling behind my closed lips as I shake my head. Siddling closer so I can press a kiss to a forehead over how adorable I find him. I look into his eyes once again, hoping he can read the message through them. "Mason, I mean are you clean?"

His eyes widen, a tortured moan erupting from deep in his chest. "Oh." When he speaks his voice cracks and he clears his throat, swallowing, "Ye-yes, I am."

I look at him feeling more vulnerable than I've felt in a long time, "I'm on birth control, and I..." I'm almost positive that my cheeks probably look flushed enough to sear through skin if touched, "Would you want to?"

Those eyes of his nearly pop out of his head. "Want to? I've wanted to fuck you raw since the first moment I saw you in that garage." I must be a fool to find that flattering. But then he gazes up at me in silence, the feverish, lust filled look in his eyes morphing into something soft and guilt-ridden. "But that's not why I bought you the gifts."

"What are you talking about?"

He exhales, running a hand through his hair. "I'm just saying... I don't want you to feel like you have to give me something in return. I know it sounds fucking stupid, but I guess another reason why I bought you these things is because I wanted parts of you here even when you weren't."

When he says those words I undoubtedly know that he has my heart in his hands, and when I look at him, in the tenderness in his eyes, I realize I want to be with him more than I want anything.

"You don't owe me anything for that." He finishes.

The expression on his face is full of doubt and laced with guilt. I didn't expect him to think that I was asking for this as a way to thank him for what he bought me. In all honesty I've been thinking about it for a while, I just wanted the moment to be right. But I figure no matter where we are, or what we're doing, when it comes down to that one special moment it'll all be perfect. Because it'll be with him.

"I don't want you to feel like you have to say yes." I say to him, meaning every word. "I won't be upset if you aren't ready."

Grabbing my hips again, he shakes his head, seeming to disagree with something I just said. "Of course I want to..." His face scrunches up, a breath of frustration surpassing his lips. "That's the problem." Then he takes my hand, bringing it towards his lips and kisses along the skin starting from my knuckles, to my palm, my wrist and up my arm. "I want you so badly, I can't fucking tell you- I don't know how."

I know the feeling.

Tell me. Please tell me.

Tell me I'm not going crazy for wanting you as much as I do.

"So then what's stopping you?" I say instead, my arms wrapping around his neck to pull him closer to me. His heart beats in unison with mine, and I rest my forehead on his, holding him and breathing in his breaths. He closes his eyes, arms tightening around me. "I know you didn't buy those things expecting something back, and I appreciate you telling me that, but I want you too. I want to experience that closeness with you." His eyes open and he looks at me, unblinking. "And look," I say, nodding down towards the lingerie I'm wearing. "I'm already dressed for the occasion."

He smiles slightly, bringing up his hand to cup my cheek, looking at me in complete awe. "You demanding woman."

His hands move, thumb now brushing the skin on my lips, as chest rises and falls, and as we stare at each other, the air between us crackles with electricity. There's no denying the chemistry between us, whether it's emotional, or physical it's there and it's inescapable, completely raw and all-consuming, strong enough to drive me to the edge of insanity.

I can't fight the sudden need to open my mouth, and unlike what he did before, how he took my thumb in between his teeth and bit gently, I find myself indulging on the instinct, opening my mouth to slip his entire thumb inside. I watch his Adam's-apple bob up and down, my lips circling tightly around his finger, eyes on his own blazing ones.

And then when I let go I lick my lips, shifting my body closer to his to whisper, "I aim to please."

He moans as if someone just stabbed him with a dull knife.

"Are you sure about this?" He asks me, and my eyes meet his. For once, he looks uncertain of himself and desperate for my answer. He looks like a man on the brink of losing control. "You need to be sure, sweetheart."

The adoration in his eyes makes my heart clench.

Breathless, I nod my head, the speed of it borderline frantic as I languish in his words. I love the shiver of anticipation it gives me, but while the cold chill works its way down my spine, it's accompanied by a sense of warmth. Knowing that he wants me to be one hundred percent positive, because we both know what this means. Unprotected sex isn't something that should be taken lightly, but I want him. I'm ready for him.

"I'm sure. Give me all of you."

My reply causes a groan to tear from his throat, and he closes his eyes for a moment as if he wants to savor the words that just came out of my mouth. I bring my hands up to his neck, holding him by his curls and bringing his lips to mine, pouring every ounce of my desire into the kiss, most likely bruising him through my own eagerness.

His tongue works against the seam of my lips, and unlike the last time I don't hesitate to part them for him. He doesn't let the opportunity go to waste, and a soft moan tears through my throat as his tongue dances with mine. He's untamed, and nothing I've ever found myself wanting but somehow knowing it's everything I've been needing.

As our kisses grow heavier, more frantic and laced with a new sense of urgency it becomes clear to me that kissing Mason doesn't feel like a choice at all. Wanting him, needing his lips on mine has now become as crucial as oxygen.

His hands that were previously wrapped around my waist move down to squeeze my ass, pressing me flush against him until I feel the tip of his cock press against me. I can feel how hot he is through the fabric, how thick, how big, hard and ready for me, and his forehead falls to rest on mine, a deep rumble escaping his chest as I start to grind against him.

"Ah, fuck." He groans.

Clothing suddenly starts to feel like a burden, too tight around both our bodies. My hands are wild as they start to unbutton the first couple buttons of his dress shirt, needing it off more than anything. He makes an attempt to help me but I quickly bat his hand away, fumbling the rest of the way through like my life depends on it. Finally once the black material gapes open, revealing the tattooed skin on his chest, my fingers immediately find themselves on each line and grove in front of me. Trailing so quickly up to his shoulders I leave behind scratches, and once I reach my destination I swiftly take off the material altogether.

Mason decides that it's now my turn. His one hand circles around me, the backs of his fingers brushing against my spine as he expertly unclips my bra in one solid movement until he throws it onto the floor, not even sparing it a second glance. I feel the air graze my stiffened nipples, but the intensity of his gaze is enough to convert the breeze into a scorching heat.

He reaches out until both hands are covering my breasts, getting a feel for them, pinching the peaked bud until I let out a high pitched gasp, and my breath catches in my throat when his palm drifts down my chest all the way in between my legs, causing goosebumps to erupt along the path he takes.

He circles two tips of his fingers against my clit, feeling the moisture soaked through the material. A large breath of air is sucked in when he makes contact, and once he does it it doesn't take long for him to hook the dampened lace between his fingers, moving it aside so there's no barrier between us.

"Fuck, are you always this wet for me?" His words send a shot of eagerness through me, and I don't hesitate to nod my head in confirmation. I'm wet enough that we can both hear my arousal bouncing off the walls as he handles me. The ends of his lips curl upwards, seeming to relish in my verification. "You want me to fuck you?"

I nod, almost begging for it.

"Ride them." His voice comes out as a demand, that once sweetened mood of his harshening and my heart thumps erratically through my chest, my body responding, growing warm everywhere.

He slowly slides a finger inside me, then another, and another and my fingers grasp the material of his shirt so tightly it wraps around my knuckles. I gasp, clenching around him, eyes dead set on his while I lift my hips as pleasure fills me. All the oxygen in the room evaporates, both the sounds he makes and the way he's working his fingers make it harder to suck in another breath.

Tension rolls through him as I lean forward and plant wet kisses along his throat, rocking my hips and letting out breathless moans with each movement. I can't get enough, my mouth, my tongue is all over him, lining out his throat, nipping at his earlobe, sucking on his neck while my grip on his shoulders is so tight I'm sure it'll leave marks.

My head tips back, the sound of my arousal sucking him in while his dark eyes are fixated on nothing but my helpless face. Mason brings his mouth to my breast, using his teeth to apply pressure in between the peaked bud before flicking it with his tongue to soothe the newfound ache.

The attention he gives my breasts, starting slow, patient, a mere acute ache he elicits makes me writhe on top of him. When he's touching me, acting out on his own desires and looking at me with those dangerously alluring eyes of his, everything I thought I knew, all doubts, worries, fears, even the space and time continuum ceases to exist, leaving lust and insanity behind.

Because all I feel is him. I know he's not touching every area of my skin but I feel him everywhere, and then in that instant I just know. I know he wants me. Every kiss, every whisper of praise, every second longer he looks into my eyes pushes me further into wanting to confirm the unimaginable. I let it all consume me, mind, body and soul and close my eyes, throwing my head back until the long strands of my hair brush the middle of my back.

"Cum for me. Let me get a taste of what I'm going to feel once my cock is inside you."

The sultry of his words mixed with the feel of his tongue, the roughness of his fingers makes all the burning tension building inside me become almost unbearable.

All I feel is heat rush through me, all the way down to the tips of toes until I feel paralyzed. Eyes snapping shut as the serotonin in my head displays fireworks behind my eyelids. Every gear in my body is spinning faster and faster, and I moan his name repetitively, not being able to control the sounds coming out of me. Gradually, the shudders rocking through me come to an end, and after Mason's fingers slip out I still linger in a daze, barely having time to recognize him sticking them into his mouth, his tongue moving to swallow every last bit of the coated remains on them.

My body is languid, and still high off an orgasm, but when he turns me over, drops me onto the mattress with him on top of me, steam crawls through my blood, lighting me on fire. He gets off the bed and I just lie here, flushed and breathless while he stands in front of me looking like the manifestation of pure sin.

A noise of surprises escapes me when he grabs both of my ankles and jerks me until my ass is on the edge of the bed. Within seconds he's bending down over me, kissing me softly, his lips slowly exploring its way down my chin until it's on the dip in my throat, slowly, slowly trailing down my rising and falling chest, covering my nipple, down my stomach, and then a sharp sound tears through my throat when his tongue sticks inside my belly button, kissing down, down, down.

He takes his time, there's no rush in this and some sick, twisted part of me thinks that maybe he wants this to be special too.

He plants a kiss along my hip bone right before he makes due on his promise and opens his mouth to take the thin lace fabric between his teeth. My breath grows ragged as I watch a dark curl fall across his brow, his desirous green eyes looking at me from beneath those dark lashes, gaze set on me as he slowly, lustfully drags it down. I lift my hips up to help assist him, the cool air feeling icy against my blazed skin once I'm finally naked in front of him.

He releases my thong from his mouth, grasps my thighs and parts them, letting out a string of profanities while his eyes zero in on my burning flesh.

"Seventeen seconds."

"What?"

"Seventeen seconds. That's my record." He clarifies and what he's referring to clicks inside my brain. His eyes on me burn, an expression of hunger unlike anything I've ever seen and he rubs his jawline as if the view pains him, "If I'm not inside you within the next minute or so there's a good chance I'll spontaneously combust. So..." His gaze flicks back to me, a grin curling at the ends of his mouth, "I'm going to need you to count, baby."

My veins burst with warmth, heart skipping a beat in my chest and in between my legs. And then I watch as he lowers himself until he's on his knees in front of me. I fidget my hips in anticipation as he looks ahead, staring shamelessly at my wet and swollen folds, blossoming wide open for him. Although I'm still sensitive from the last orgasm he gave me, I'm aching, burning for contact. And he's enjoying it, looking at me with so much enthrallment I have to remind myself to breathe.

I need him. In a mindless, uncontrollable, frenzied, bordering madness kind of way.

He hooks his arms under the backs of my thighs, bringing me closer to him and holding me so securely I can't move an inch. I squirm a little under his touch, goosebumps running up my arms. His eyes flick to me for a split second as if to remind me of my task right before his head dives forward, pressing his face into my aching core. The hot sweep of his tongue sends a violent shiver through me and a spark ignites in my lower stomach, flame spreading through my body like wildfire.

And then I start counting. Mason doesn't waste any time, every lap of his warm tongue is even more merciless than the last. My hands fly into his hair, running my blunt nails against his scalp as he continues circling around my clit before sucking harshly, making deep noises of satisfaction and digging into me as if he just can't get enough.

"Three... Four...Fuck Mason it feels so good...."

I'm grabbing fistfuls of his hair now, every whimper and whine leaving my lips sounding feral. My eyes were fighting to stay open, feeling so overwhelmed in this euphoric state. His tongue works faster, harder until there's nothing but deep, hot pressure. Everytime I uncontrollably move my hips, his grasp on me just gets tighter, eventually wanting me closer by throwing my legs over his shoulders, gripping my hip bones harshly, his nails scratching my skin as he adjusts his hold.

"Seven... Eight..." I whine out louder at the loss of control, rubbing my hungry flesh against his tongue.

His tongue goes right to the collection of nerves in a miraculous rhythm before slipping inside of me. I choke on my moan, throwing my head back and attempting to buck my hips but he holds me in place, refusing me. He slides his tongue in and out of me over and over again before circling back to the clit, sucking with the perfect amount of pressure. He knows exactly what he's doing. God, it's exquisite.

I'm pulling him into me, doing whatever I can to reach the high only he's been able to give me. My thighs quiver, heavy pressure in my stomach building and I feel hot, my skin is prickling, burning up like a comet falling from space.

I lose track of my task for a moment, my eyes rolling into my head. "I want you inside of me so badly." I admit in a breathless moan.

And then he loses it. He loses all his control, sucking me, licking me, digging his fingers so deep into my hip bone I'm almost positive it'll leave marks, but I don't care. I gasp immediately, the rough actions of his tongue taking my breath away.

"Eleven... Twelve..."

At this point I'm gasping for air, the impending pressure inside of me is growing too quickly, every part of my body getting tight. The beginnings of an orgasm shimmer around me in pulses until that overwhelming tension is killing me, and I suck in a sharp inhale as the pressure explodes through my veins like an inferno.

"Fourteen-fuck! Mason, yes..."

Every controlled movement of my body stops. The shaking of my legs, convulsing of my body is out of my hands and I scream his name over and over, the fire in me dissipating into a languid heat, sending tingles throughout. My core pulsates and a certain warmth is released from my system as the orgasm hits me in debilitating, hard-hitting waves, knocking the air out of my lungs until I'm heaving for breath, scrambling for sanity.

And then I lie here, nothing but a pile of limbs on his mattress as he decides he isn't finished yet. While trembling from the sensitive space between my legs he gently slides his tongue against me one more time, cleaning me up.

Then he stands while I'm still fighting for a big enough breath of air, looking down at me with a big smile of satisfaction.

"New record."

And while holding my stare, the sound of his zipper descending cuts through the silence, and as I lie here, a few feet away I take the time to let my eyes roam down his body. Down all the muscles that move under his golden skin, down every colorless tattoo, every curvature on his stomach, the sharp dip of his hips and the brown happy trail leading to that thick, hard part of him that sprung out once his boxer briefs hit the floor. The action is so primal, so surprisingly sexy that I feel my skin rising in temperature with every step he takes closer, naked and bare for me.

He begins to stroke himself and my mouth falls open as I stare, my gaze transfixed on the sight of him approaching.

"Scoot back." He demands, his words breathier than before and I oblige, leaning up on my elbows to scoot backwards until I'm in the middle of the bed. Every muscle in my body quivers with an anticipatory thrill.

He watches my movements, and as I get further away from him he takes a closer step towards me. Mason climbs onto the bed, sitting himself up using both knees, eyes locked on mine while he moves his hips between his legs.

He licks, nips, bites along my stomach all the way up to my chest until he's looming over me with one palm on the mattress next to my shoulder and the other hand wrapped possessively around my waist, eyes slowly roaming up and down my body, mouth glistened from my own arousal and my skin sings with satisfaction.

His body is covering mine, he's warm and suddenly feels like everything I could ever want in this lifetime.

Then he sits himself up, "Give me those hips, baby."

I don't even have time to do as he says before he hooks his fingers around my waist, lifting me up for him, high enough that my feet rest on either side of his face on his shoulders. He takes one hand off of me, snaking his other under the small of my back to hold me in place as he takes himself in his hand, guiding his cock to my entrance.

Our eyes meet again and I break the contact first, watching as he runs his tip up and down my slit in a tease before entering me slowly, completely bare, pushing inside of me and he hisses a sharp breath, but not one of pain, of pleasure. My lips part as I halt my breathing, my body stretching around him. He stares at where we are joined with a hungry look on his face, almost matching the aching madness running through my veins.

"Fuck..." He exhales.

His jaw slacks, head falling back as he groans so deeply I can almost feel it. The sound shoots a delicious heat inside my body. He throbs inside of me, a mix of different emotions enrapturing his face, but one instantaneously sticks out: awe.

And all I can think is: I am putting that look on Mason West's face

He surrenders to the pleasure, kissing my ankle and thrusting into me harder and deeper, breaths coming out in sharp pants. A tremble rolls through me, my exhales heavy and uneven. It feels different this way: dirtier, more passionate, real. Just him and me. No barriers, skin on skin, nothing blocking us from being one. I didn't know there was a way to feel so filthy, yet so intimate with a person at the same time.

"Christ. You feel..." A groan ripples from deep in his chest, "You feel so good, baby."

His praise makes my entire body flutter. I don't answer because I'm still trying to determine how to breathe and speak with him inside of me. The wet slap as his hips meet with mine repeatedly echoes in my ears, the intensity in which he thrust into me making me wild.

With both hands now gripping my hips he desperately pulls back and rolls forward, every edge of him driving through me, picking up the pace and I whine out at the increase of speed. It seems as though he's battling his thoughts above me, trying to go slower, savor the moment, but refusing to give in, his thrusts becoming sharper, pounding into me harder, almost punishing.

He flips me so that I'm the one on top with so much grace my jaw drops. The new angle of this position makes me see stars. The size of him doesn't help in this situation, but my body quickly adjusts to the intense pressure soaring through me. Especially once he brings his hands onto my hips, grinding my body up and down against his so vigorously I can't help but place my hands on his chest for some stability.

"Fuck...Me." He says with a heavy pant, eyes tracing down the length of my torso as I start to bounce on top of him, panting out into the air above us.

What were we even doing before this? I can't remember if it's daylight or nighttime, I forget where we are, who we're supposed to be- none of that matters. All I hear, all I feel is Mason.

I reach up and cup my breasts in my hands, my thumbs grazing my nipples, the added pressure from the small gesture making me moan out over the strong stimulation. My eyes stay fixed on Mason's as I pluck my nipples, back arching from my own actions. Blind lust gives me the confidence to pinch them harder between my thumb and forefinger, his eyes on me growing darker, wilder, own body wrestling with control.

"Fuck." He bites out, "You're so fucking beautiful. I can't fucking stand it." His next few words come out in more of a breath, his eyes tortured, frantic. "My Isabelle."

My Isabelle

There's no time for the words to sink in because he gives into his own temptations, sitting up until his mouth is latched onto my breast. Fever consumes me, a scorching shot pouring straight into my bloodstream. My whimpers sound breathless against him as I bury my hands into his hair, tips of my fingers lightly grazing his scalp while he nips at my skin, smacking my ass and grinding further into him. I feel so full with him inside of me, mouth sucking, licking, biting my breasts, hand now gripping my ass, it's overwhelming, but even then, I need more of it.

"Ahhh," Another moan escapes me as he lifts me up slightly and slams me back down onto him, and a shudder rolls under his skin as I move faster up and down. The friction each move creates is nearly unbearable, and tingles spread through me as I resume riding him.

"Fuck, just like that." He praises hoarsely.

The way he fills me is just right. Even our bodies align perfectly.

There's nothing that compares to the feeling of me blissfully expecting the fullness of him inside of me once I raise myself higher until the moment we crash down together once again. Our wet flesh continues to beat with his quickened tempo, my bare breasts rubbing against his chest faster and faster, harder and harder. I'm sweat-soaked and tingling, the adrenaline this situation is giving me is rushing through my veins. It's so raw. Everything's raw. My heart feels raw.

My head falls back again and he uses the available skin in front of him to his advantage, licking trails up and down my neck, biting me hard enough to leave a mark while he thrusts into me so fast and deep, my hands tighten around his hair so intensely I'm sure it must hurt.

When I feel like I've gotten more oxygen into my lungs I tilt my head back to face him, and he silences my moan with a searing kiss, the spark of it going straight to my heart. Taking hold of my head in his hands, his tongue entering my mouth, licking and sucking to the rhythm of his cock going in and out of me. Pressing my body even closer, a deep exhale releases from his mouth to mine, as if he were breathing life into me.

The crazed, delirious feeling firing between us makes him lose control, and he drops back down onto the bed again, his grip on me causing me to fall with him since he never disconnects the kiss. I gasp at the new angle, not given any time before he wraps an arm around my waist as tight as a steel band, holding me in place. He starts thrusting up into me, and I cry out in pleasure, shouting at every rough contact. His hot panting from his open mouth hits against my ear while my head remains buried in his perspired shoulder, his hair now sweaty and sticking to my own damp forehead.

"Fuck, fuck, Mason, I-"

"Be a good girl and take it."

I gasp out as he starts to rock his body very rough, drawing his hips back slowly and ramming them forward. With each thrust I rock against him harder, and I grab onto the duvet of his bed under us, gripping the fabric so tightly because I desperately need something to hold. Every unsteady inhale I take is broken by a high pitched gasp, his thrusts hitting places in me I didn't even know existed.

And then with a groan, he rolls me onto my back and thrusts all the way inside me. I cry out, my back arching off the bed as he slams in so deep the air is knocked out from my lungs. The movement makes me feel so full it burns, his erratic thrusts making me feel him all the way in my stomach.

"Does that feel good? Do you like that?" He groans on top of me, his body relentless, grip possessive, thrusts claiming ownership of me.

"Yes." I croon, my eyes snapping shut, voice shaking as the temperature in the room intensifies.

The bedframe screeches, headboard hitting the wall with every long thrust and we're both panting, moaning, losing ourselves in each other. His body is heavy as he lies on top of me, one hand braced on the bed while the other cradles my head. The hand that is not supporting him moves down to my chin and he uses his thumb to press down, opening my mouth wide open for him.

Then he spits in it.

I swallow.

He presses his forehead against mine, looking into my eyes. "You are mine. Only mine."

His voice is warm, and smooth but his teeth are clenched tight and his words sink into my skin, filling every space inside my body. I'm unable to respond, all I can do is fight for breath while my body molds to his, throaty moans flying out my mouth with every rough thrust he makes.

That glorious mouth of his kisses its way up my neck and I instinctively arch my back against him, stretching out so he's given more access, and his grip on me tightens as though I'll unexpectedly be ripped from him. It's as if he wants me all for his own, to merge our bodies into one being.

I've never been looked at, touched, held in the way Mason is doing in this moment, but all I know is that he makes me want to, again and again. It's a strange feeling, but one I know I'll never get used to, never get tired of, because whatever it is it makes me feel on fire, makes me feel beautiful, deserving and alive.

We are two broken, lost souls that shouldn't work together but we do, and we do it beautifully.

It's almost like he was made for me, specifically designed to respond to me; my missing puzzle piece that I don't need to reshape my edges for and force to fit, he just does.

With my hands curled around his neck, I pull him down until his lips meet mine. And after each kiss we have, I crave another, wanting all of them to last longer than the last. He kisses me like a man who just came home from a war, he kisses me as though it's his last time doing it and he doesn't want to miss a single spot, like my own lips are the one thing granting him oxygen in this world.

Kissing doesn't seem significant enough to describe what he's doing. He devours me, licking and nipping at my lips before his tongue owns me, and I can taste all the things he's done and all the things he wants to do melt into my mouth from his wordless affections.

Our eyes accidentally meet and lock. We stare at each other as something intimate runs between us. It feels raw, too exposed. I almost look away, shift my gaze elsewhere but then I sense something new in his eyes: vulnerability.

The look on his face tells me everything I need to know, that there is nowhere else he'd rather be than in this moment with me. And as I gaze up at him, his eyes dark with passion, expression soft and tender, awestruck, while also looking baffled and confused. I drink it in, memorize it and make it a part of me, because I know it too, that there's nowhere else I'd rather be, either. My entire body feels like a live wire, including my heart, the feeling of it on the verge of becoming overwhelming.

Nothing else matters anymore, nothing but the way he has me falling apart underneath him. My head is in a fog and the entire bed is spinning, making the heat inside me become more excruciating. Arching against him has the burning sensations of pleasure building inside of me until I can feel myself tightening around him. The unmistakable build starts to rise within me, my legs start to tingle and I find myself working twice as hard to be able to breathe.

"That's right, baby. Let me have it." He rasps in a heavy breath.

The world stops.

My breathing stops.

Jaw drops as the orgasm rips through me spreading from my core, to my belly, all the way down to the tips of my toes and every cell in my body breaks apart and fuses back together. I feel tired and happy and sad, not wanting any of this to be over.

My body spasms and convulses in ecstasy, stealing my ability to move and think but suddenly I'm shouting, screaming out his name over and over like it's the only word I know. The surge of it so immediate and violent sends shudders through me that chatter my teeth.

And he watches me, because that entire time my eyes were dead set on his. Normally I'd be embarrassed, like holding his gaze in that moment would feel too intimate, personal and unfamiliar. But then those lips of his shift into a sloppy grin, fingers brushing the hair from my face, cradling my head in his hand and breathing all my ragged breaths in.

I'm soaring, I'm soaring, and all I can think is that I never want to touch the ground again.

He takes in a sharp breath, my own orgasm affecting him as grits his teeth and curses out in pleasure and then he kisses me. I'm so sensitive, mind and body still reeling while he thrusts himself inside me so unexpectedly hard I practically scream into his mouth. He pushes harder, deeper, rougher, until there's no space between us, no possible way we can get any closer.

"Tell me where to cum."

My response is immediate, "Inside of me."

Then I'm moaning against his mouth again and he's groaning into mine, noses grazing, eyes tirelessly staring into each others. It's carnal and heavy, fast and hot in every way. The muscles in his legs become tight while the muscles in his back become tense and I wrap my arms around his neck, holding him tighter against me.

I push his head down further so that my lips touch his with every word I speak, "Give me all of you."

Then he gasps, Mason's beautiful face contorting into one of pain as he slams into me, his hold so tight I have to take small breaths. Tightening my legs, I grip his shoulders with more strength and limply hang onto him. The bed hits the wall even harder from the ferocity of his thrusts and my nails dig into his back, sweat clinging onto his skin while he stares down at me with a wild, unrestrained look on his face.

He doesn't stop until I'm choking his name and he's twitching inside of me, his hot cum emptying itself in deep spurts between my legs. When it's over I feel sweaty and tired and sticky and happy, so happy, and when his forehead drops down onto mine I smile, looking at him through my lashes to see him smiling too.

My heart can't take those smiles. They're too much. Too overwhelming.

He exhales a huge breath, body still tense, still shaking, still deep inside me as he buries his head in my neck, both trying to catch our breath. We lie here for long minutes and I'm trying to grant my lungs the oxygen it was so deprived of but they're foggy and it's difficult to do so with our flesh still plastered together.

My hands tangle in the sweaty hair on the back of his head and I find my voice, "Are you still alive?"

I feel the apples of his cheeks rise as he smiles into my neck, planting a kiss on the skin right before he shakes his head no. Even with the weight of him on me, I'm still able to spew out laughter, my body aching with every sound leaving my throat.

He shifts, detaches himself slowly from me and I wince, my body sticky and lethargic. Mason doesn't stop until he collapses onto his back beside me in total exhaustion and I watch him, hypnotically as his muscular chest drenched in sweat rises and falls, how his hair sticks to his face, curls disheveled, swollen lips and rosy cheeks stretch wider, fuller, happier.

He speaks tiredly beside me, "I feel like I need to collect my soul off the ceiling."

This time I'm able to laugh without the weight on my chest, smiling broadly because I feel it too. My legs are still tingling, limbs feeling like putty, mind in a daze while my entire body remains somewhere on cloud nine.

"Mind grabbing mine too?"

He chuckles under his labored breath, turning over slightly so he's propped up with his elbow digging into the mattress, hand holding his head and looking down at me. I feel a grin forming on my mouth, butterflies running wild in my belly as he brushes loose tendrils of hair behind my ear, leaning down close enough to me the heat coming off his body almost burns mine.

"Too lazy." He responds in a gravelly whisper, floating a kiss on top of my unkempt hair and another on my forehead.

And then he does what he always does. He reaches out and pats my head one, two, three times. They're always in three's I've noticed. Every single time.

Planting a kiss on the tip of my nose he says, "Stay here. Don't move."

The words come out of my mouth before I have time to process them, and they do in a hushed mutter, "Couldn't even if I wanted to."

He bursts out laughing and the sound works all the way around me until it seeps into my skin, stirring the embers of happiness into a full flame. I love the sound of his laughter, especially since everything around us is so quiet now. There's no loud moans, gasps, groans or thud of the bedframe hitting the wall, everythings died down, turned calm and languorous like the muscles in my skin.

He slowly sits himself up, plants his feet on the floor and stands, walking himself over to the bathroom and giving me a full view of his muscled back and beautiful backside. While he disappears into the other room I involuntarily use the silence surrounding me to let just how fucked I am sink in.

This could be the thing that breaks me. The wanting him, the pleasure of being with him, the questions on top of questions I want to ask but never do because I'm afraid of the answer more than the vulnerability I'll show asking them.

Shaking my head, I dismiss all those thoughts away. Instead, bringing a slight smile to my lips over what we had just done. It means something to me, not just the act of having sex without a condom, but the emotional aspect of it too. I've never felt so connected with someone in my whole life.

It isn't because of the physical activity of sex, something tells me if I ever do that with anyone else it won't feel even remotely comparable to what Mason and I just did. It was him. He has a way of waking something new in me, a part of me I didn't even know I had until he gave me the courage to release it.

I drift back to reality when the mattress dips from Mason's weight being pushed onto it. He lies on his stomach right between my closed legs, carrying a damp washcloth in his hands, and I stare at him, unsure of what he's about to do.

Gently, he nudges my legs apart, and he looks down at my opening right in front of him. Just like that, it immediately clicks. He's cleaning me up. And my own stubborn need to always do things myself kicks in as my knees tense and I reach out to take it out of hands. He softly smacks it away, playfully rolling his eyes as if he knew I was going to do that.

"No. Let me." He insists, eyes furrowing in focus while he spreads my legs apart once more.

The washcloth feels cold against my skin but he's going slow, and trying to be as careful as he can against my sensitive folds. I don't feel as sticky as I did before, but strangely enough a new feeling envelopes me because of how personal this feels.

I feel the fissure in my heart as I watch him.

Until he opens his mouth, of course.

"My little creamed doughnut."

Peels of laughter burst from deep within, and my eyes crinkle around the corners, chest rumbling as I try to catch a hold of my breath. "What?"

"Well, technically you aren't a toaster strudel because I came inside of you." He explains as though what he just said makes all the sense in the world.

My eyes are now on the ceiling, cheeks reddening while I try to bite back a smile. Most guys prefer to call a girl something cute, endearing maybe, but no, Mason here is trying to find a name because he now gets to cum inside of me.

Fuck, so adorable.

Something is seriously wrong with me.

"I don't want to be a toaster strudel."

"Hmm..." He thinks to himself, pretending to play it off dramatically, "What about a Twinkie? Twinks? I like that one."

"Mason." I whine, and my chuckle is light, laced with amusement on the matter.

My gaze returns back to his and he's watching me, an award winning smile on his face. He still looks the same, but somehow everythings changed, feels... different. No sheets cover my body, but yet I still feel hot all over as he leans in and places a single kiss on the top of the skin of my pelvic bone before returning back to the bathroom.

My spine aches as I tiredly sit up when he returns, watching the muscles of his body move and stretch when he opens one of his dresser drawers, pulling out what looks to be one of his Tshirts. He walks towards me and I look at him confused as he bunches up the neck hole, immediately shoving my head through it and softly snaking my flimsy arms through the arm holes.

I watch in complete and utter awe as he untucks my hair from under the shirt, bringing it to rest behind my back and flattens the untamed strands going every which way. His hands are on me, and a surprised puff of air bubbles past my lips as he lifts me and cradles me in his arms, feet dangling in the air as though I'm weightless, as light as a feather.

"What are you doing?" I ask.

With the steady tread of his feet he makes his way towards the bathroom, me following suit. Before I even have time to understand what he's doing I feel him softly put me down until there's the feel of white porcelain beneath my ass, and the cold touch of the bathroom tile under my bare feet.

"I already told you." He begins, crouching down a bit to get at eye level, "Let me take care of you."

My blood heats as I take his words in, replaying them over and over.

"Now piss." He finishes, his voice going back to being serious as he stands up straight. I wait for him to leave but he doesn't, he just stands around the bathroom, not even wanting to leave me for a second so I can pee in peace.

His presence in the bathroom doesn't go unnoticed, especially since the man is still naked, and I wonder what the world did to deserve a body like his, every single bit sculpted, thick and hard.

When a minute or so passes he turns back around to look at me and realization flashes in his eyes, "I just spit in your mouth and put my kids in you and you're afraid to piss in front of me?"

I squirm on the toilet seat, "...Sometimes I get shy."

This brings a smile to his face, and instead of saying anything back, he simply shakes his head, walks over to me to press a kiss on my cheek and leaves the bathroom, shutting the door behind him.

❀

"Come on, just give me a number. Take a guess." I say for the third time now.

We spent hours twined together beneath the sheets, talking and reminiscing about the most random things. I'm not even aware of how much time has passed, I can't think of the last time we did this- spent the entire day in bed together not doing anything but talking.

And fucking.

He had me in every position imaginable. Over, and over and over again, until my knees were weak and I was sore to the touch. Patting my head three times and kissing me softly before my skin, muscles and bones melt onto his bed completely, leaving me to be nothing but a puddle, sickeningly sweet for him.

And then he would walk over to the bathroom, leaving me splayed out in the middle of the bed and waiting for him to clean me up. Even though I never asked, even though I kept insisting that I could just go to the bathroom later to pee, he carried me over to the toilet every time.

I've come to realize that the high of the orgasm isn't even half as good as the high I feel with him after it. When we're alone together in bed, his arms around mine, bodies close enough for me to feel the beat of his heart, and see the brightness of his smile... In these moments a strange new type of intimacy runs between us, and in those few seconds it's so easy to pretend, even for a little bit, that he's mine.

I keep telling myself that it's fine. This is fine. But it's not.

And I don't know how to make it stop.

"I don't have one." He answers, the matchbox motorcycle still running along the ridges of my spine as he speaks.

He was playing with it all night last night, fiddling with it in his hands while we watched movies. I remember when he refused to take it from me, but now that he has it I think he's aware of how much that little toy meant to me, how much he must mean to me for me to be able to give it to him.

I'm currently lying on my stomach, both my arms folded under me, right below my head. The tshirt he gave me to wear still smells like him and I wonder if I should sneak it home and add it to my collection. He's been running the little toy motorcycle up and down my spine, over my shoulder blades and along the mound of my ass for about thirty minutes now, leaving small tickles behind as the ridges of the wheels roll across me.

"How do you not know how many people you've slept with?"

He shrugs, eyes still on the toy and I laugh, letting a hand go free from under me to smack his hand away once he has the toy ride directly down the crack of my ass. I shoot him a look and all he does is smile, chuckling under his breath.

"I just don't." He tells me, and my eyes look directly at him sitting up in bed, back pressed against the headboard, the sheet pooled around his groin, rippled stomach on full display.

Any woman would be lucky enough to sleep with him. I remember him being the talk of the town when he returned. Plus, the amount of women I caught him with during my first few weeks of living here was more than enough to pique my interest in finding what the real number is.

All the women...

...All the sex

All the experience

He looks down at me, eyes furrowing slightly as he takes note of the expression on my face, "And either way, I feel like this is going to get me in trouble one way or another so I think it's best we trash this conversation."

He's right, we haven't even been talking about this for long and I already feel nauseous.

"Okay fine, trashed." I give in, hiding my unsettlement and putting a small no teeth smile on my face as he leans down and kisses the top of my head, then my forehead, nose, and mouth.

He sets the toy on the nightstand beside him and repositions himself so that he's lying pressed to me on his side, resting his head up on a propped shoulder, eyes tracing down to mine. There's hardly any room in between us, but still he's so far away.

We stay silent for a moment, my brain running wild on all of my unanswered questions, and when one more falls on the tip of my tongue, I set it free.

"But I just have one more question." I say, the words coming out in a ramble, and Mason groans very dramatically, falling onto my back, his head now in between my shoulder blades groaning once more. I laugh at his childish antics, trying to move my body over slightly to push his heavy weight off of me, "Who was the last person? I mean, you were safe, right?"

He shifts so he's able to look me in the eye, the expression on his face softening. "You don't trust me?"

I let out a deep sigh, "Of course I do. But it's about more than that. I wouldn't have let you fuck me into oblivion if I didn't think you were clean." He smiles at that. And suddenly I feel like I'd do anything for that smile. "But I also think people who are sexually active should talk about these things."

Mason's unwavered gaze softens, "Don't freak out."

There it is, three words you never want a man you just had unprotected sex with to speak.

Anxiousness starts biting at me, and I shift onto my back, looking up at him and hoping he's not able to witness the worry in my eyes. My mind stretches in every direction, and yet I manage to speak in a calm, even tone. "Why would I freak out?"

He drapes his arm around my waist and I wonder if it's so I don't run off. I place my hand on his arm, giving him a gentle squeeze right before he speaks, "The last person I fucked was Sofia."

Sofia

Sofia fucking Taylor

My heart falls into my stomach, dissolves into nothing but liquid, coiling into the pit of my gut until I feel nauseous all over again. I've known for a while that Mason and Sofia have slept together, but hearing him say the words after the morning we've had feels like somehow, in some way she won again.

He analyzes the look on my face, "You're totally freaking out."

"No." I say too quickly, giving up the calm and relaxed facade.

I'm not freaking out. Yes, it does sting a little that during a time Sofia was the one he was in bed with, naked between the sheets, kissing his lips and moaning out his name. Oh fuck, the images in my mind have gone off the deep end. My insecurities are getting the better of me, and I know it doesn't make sense to compare, there are things that I have that she never will. But no matter what I have, there is one thing that the two of us have in common.

That even though I have all this, the late night kisses, movie nights and confessions during pillowtalk- he still isn't mine.

He bends down close enough for his nose to graze mine, "Why are you prolonging it?" I furrow my eyebrows in confusion, "Ask what you want to ask me."

I swallow and look at him hovering over me. The glow of the lamp on the bedside table gives me the opportunity to notice how his eyes are soft burning down at me with the dim lighting surrounding the room. My throat goes tight, chest heavy, staring up at him with burning cheeks slight of embarrassment.

This is silly. But I have to ask.

My voice comes out small, "What did you see in her?"

His eyes twinkle with something but it disappears before I have time to evaluate the meaning behind it. Those plump lips of his start to quirk upwards, "You're not jealous are you?"

My guard shoots up, "I think repulsed would be the right word to describe how I'm feeling."

He shakes his head, chuckles leaving his lips as he leans in close enough for his chest to be against the side of my torso. He rests his free hand against my cheek, brushing, grazing, and looking down at me with that adoration I feel like I'll never truly understand.

I sigh, leaning into his touch while working up the courage to ask what I really want to ask.

"Did you ever have feelings for her?"

His fingers stop their movements, brows knitting together for a moment or two. "No. Never." He answers, and I overanalyze the look on his face, not detecting a single sign of dishonesty. "I didn't see anything in her. We fucked a couple times, but that was it." He sighs, struggling to find the right words to clear the fog of perplexity whirring in my brain. "We were using each other, I wanted sex and so did she. A mutual agreement for both parties involved."

The words he speaks only provide a burn to the gentle touches he's making along my cheek.

It sounds familiar.

'We were using each other'. Those five words spoken engrave themselves deep inside my mind, blaring at full volume.

"So..." My gaze meets his, the anxious pit in my gut expanding, "Kind of like us?"

Wanting him, I can somewhat handle, no matter the pain, no matter the price. But I can't ignore how recently I've been longing for something deeper, something with more meaning than just this not-so-casual-sex. It's unacceptable, disastrous- a recipe for a broken heart.

I feel too intimidated to look into his eyes once the question is asked. But I feel how his body tenses slightly, how his fingers on my cheek go still. From his body language I would normally assume that my words offend him, but I discard that thought, push it aside and wait for his answer.

I count the seconds. There are too many seconds in between. One, two, three, four, five, six-

"No." He finally says, "Not like us." My stomach bursts with a few uncontrollable butterflies, but they're staggered, high off more confusion than I had to begin with. He pushes me closer to him as if he doesn't want me to miss a single thing he has to say, and uses his index finger to push up my chin, forcing my head to look at his softening green eyes. "I don't want her, never have. But you...can never get enough of you."

My heart beats faster as I look up at him. He sees a smile on my face, but inside I'm telling myself that I can't imagine that this is more than it is, that his pretty words are more than just pretty words.

I'm starting to resent my infatuation's persistent stab every waking moment when it comes to him. This attraction, the emotional and physical, is the type that stems roots down beneath the surface, the type that holds you down, grounds you in place, the type you'd be lost without if it all disappeared.

His body moves so it hovers over mine, he uses his elbows on either side of my head to help support his weight so he doesn't crush me, then within an instant, his lips are on my neck, exuding hot air onto my collarbone. I grip his biceps, the soft skin on his arm blanketing the muscles beneath the surface, flexing and tightening as he holds himself up.

"Why don't I prove it?" The low grate of his voice settles deep into my gut, interrupting my blaring thoughts, "Or was I right?" He reaches the tender dip of my shoulder, grazing his teeth along the skin until he bites into my flesh and my back arches, and a strangled sound tearing through my throat. He leans closer to grumble in my ear, "Am I in trouble?"

I try to get a hold of myself, swallowing thickly, "No to both questions." His lips and tongue are wet, searching, unhurried, and warm as it drifts along the column of my throat. "Jessica's home now, she'll hear us."

He suckles my pulse and drags a damp, scorching hot trail down to the dip of my shoulder. His husky, grating chuckle is unbothered, "Only because you're so loud."

"Me?" I breathlessly ask, my hands clutching savagely into the curls of his hair, "You were the one that was louder last time."

My response makes him snort in the empty space between my jawline and my shoulder, apparently in disagreement. "Bullshit. If anything, we tied."

"I don't believe in ties."

Something bright and hungry flashes across his face and he grasps my chin in his hand, murmuring hoarsely against my cheek. "Care to prove me wrong? Because I know for a fact, that once I'm inside you you'll be screaming for me." He moves his lips to brush them against mine, just a flutter, eyes now gleaming with unbounded desire. "And I'll let you, I'll let you scream as loud as you can so everyone knows who's fucking you." He caresses my mouth softly with his thumb, voice rasping and deceptively calm, "I'll fuck you so hard everyone will know you're mine."

I can't help the faint flush that attacks my cheeks, or the way my mouth parts even wider to let the soft breathless moans fly out my lips. His words make me mushy and tingly and wet, dripping with my own urges to feel his skin on mine. But I'm still so sore, and after the events that happened today I can't imagine myself somehow managing to be quiet in order for Jessica to not hear us down the hall.

And so while he continues to kiss wet trails up and down my neck, I turn my head ever so slightly to whisper in his ear. "As tempting as that sounds, I'd hate our sex lives to be the topic of Jessica's therapy sessions."

He pauses, pushing himself out of my neck with a shy smile on his face, it tugs on the corner of his mouth and makes his entire face glow brighter. "You're right." He says, although a part of me thinks he's only doing it for me. I know if it were up to him, he'd fuck me with or without Jessica a couple doors down. "Now that I think of it, I kind of like being your dirty little secret. Want to know one of mine?" He bends down to kiss me and electricity sparks a blazing trail across my skin, "I've never fucked a woman without a condom before. Now I'm afraid you've created a monster."

A soft, breathy sound spills from me, and lightness I haven't felt in a while settles over my shoulders knowing that I was Mason's first. He's experienced with a lot of things when it comes to sex, but with this, with this one thing I was the one he trusted enough to do it with.

I look up at him, my hands dropping from his hair to hold his cheeks in both hands. He always stares at me like this, as if he's trying to memorize it, so I graze my fingers along his skin, mapping out his features, smiling when he crinkles his nose as my fingertips float along the bridge of it.

A new thought comes to mind, "Would you ever get your own place?" He quickly leans back, further enough away that my hands no longer touch him, and from the look in his eyes I feel as though I've made some mistake. I quickly open my mouth to explain, "Once your mom comes back I doubt you'll still want to be living here." The dark lust that was previously in his eyes is gone, and I look into them hoping for an explanation to his sudden mood change but he doesn't give me anything. "What?"

Maybe talking about his mom is too much. I know he misses her. Maybe I shouldn't have said anything.

Swallowing my apprehension, I breathe in silently, looking at his side profile as he avoids eye contact with me. His mouth opens and closes, then opens and closes again, looking lost on what to say next. The tightness in his shoulders deceives the softness in his eyes, and suddenly I think he's trying to come up with a way to tell me something without hurting my feelings in the process.

"It'd be too..." He starts, letting out a deep sigh. "Official."

My eyes narrow into his, "Official? What are you talking about?"

His tongue sweeps over his bottom lip and he pushes himself back enough for him to sit down beside me, back to the original position against the headboard. I inspect the change in him, how he keeps clenching and unclenching his hands, the anxious and nervous ticks coming out in full swing.

"I need to tell you something." He finally says, still avoiding my eyes.

All I feel is my heartbeat pounding in my chest. Thump, thump, thump. The sound rings in my ears, sends my pulse racing, mind wandering on what he could be talking about.

And as I take my eyes off his, nerves starting to overwhelm me, I give myself a second to take in my surroundings.

Then everything clicks.

I've noticed it before, but with everything going on I never really took the time to let it sink in.

His room is still empty.

The only thing that's his are the clothes in his dresser. No pictures, small knick knacks, nothing for anyone to know that this is his room, that this is his home.

Home. He's never called this place that before.

"This is not my home"

"This will never be home."

"There's nothing for me here, just a lot of people I've tried to leave in the past."

"My room? You think I wanted any of this?"

"She told me to come back here, wait for her."

My heart breaks slowly, tears unwillingly at the brim of my eyes as realization hits.

I look up at him, shell-shocked and trying to reel in the weight on my chest. But the look on his face already confirms my question.

"...You don't know if you're staying, do you?" 

❀❀❀

Sheesh.

Hello readers!

Question:

Given what you know about Mason's past, and Isabelle's issues with abandonment how would you feel if you were Isabelle and found out Mason doesn't know if he's planning on staying in town?

❀

Ahhhhh I missed you guys so much. For those of you who don't follow me, or haven't read my announcements, shortly after my last update I found out that my parents are getting a divorce. Since that time, my mom has recently just moved out. 

The adjustments have been hard, especially when it comes to sorting out time to see the both of them equally. I've been so busy focusing on my parents while also trying to fit time in for myself that I took a little break from writing.

I am so over that. And so ready to continue this story.

Please don't give up on it, all the crazy shit I have planned hasn't even happened yet.

Thank you for your patience, if you enjoyed this chapter please hit that  ☆ for me down below, and leave a comment.

Also, thank you to everyone who wished me a happy birthday on my last post, and the readers who messaged me checking in, you guys are so sweet, thank you, thank you. 

Don't forget to click that follow button for for alerts on my announcements and updates on my story. I never want to leave you guys in the dark.

Hope you enjoyed it. Thank you for everything, 

-yourunknownteen