21. Mason

Mason

F ucking Drew Marshall.

I should have known he’d be involved in this shit, somehow.

It’s like my family gets rid of one venomous snake and another falls from the fucking sky.

Now, I’m involved, too and there’s no way in hell I’m letting him near my family again, let alone Hannah. Not after what he did to Bailey.

The fear in his eyes wasn’t undeserving. A couple years ago, when he tied my sister to the bed and left her to go on vacation, Drew found himself with a few shattered ribs, a broken nose, and in need of a whole hell of a lot of stitches to fix the damage I’d done to his pretty face.

Drew’s the kind of man who likes to watch others bleed. He likes their pain—he gets off on it. The women he fucks always end up bruised and battered when he’s finished and my sister was no exception.

I’ll be damned if he gets so much as a whiff of Hannah’s perfume after tonight.

Sex has always been at the forefront of Marshall’s mind. Deranged sex, bordering on depravity. Humiliation, blood, welts that don’t heal for a week. It’s what makes the Inner Sanctum so . . . exclusive. You don’t get in without an invite. You don’t get out without scars.

It was a mistake to bring Hannah here, but it would have been an even bigger one to let her come alone. If I hadn’t been with her, I’m not sure she would have made it back to her little pink cottage, much less gotten the information she needs.

That is, without losing that light that makes her Hannah fucking Gaines.

Perfection in a little five-foot-five redhead.

“Mason?” she breathes, damn near running to keep up with me as I tug her through the crowded club and toward the exit. There are no rules at the Inner Sanctum and it’s evident as we make our way through. Thank fuck, Hannah didn’t notice half the shit I did. I’m not sure she’d be able to stomach some of the very . . . unusual tastes of some of the patrons.

Finally, when we reach the door, I push her in front of me and lead her out, the tension radiating through me, volatile.

In the dark streets outside the club, I take a breath, slowing my pace. It’s cooler now that the sun has set, and it feels good after the inferno of hell that is the Inner Sanctum.

I fucking hate sex clubs. I hate clubs in general, but the Inner Sanctum is a cesspool for the self-righteous. The people that think they’re entitled to get off on whatever they want and in a lot of ways, they are—just not at the expense of others.

I’ve seen the other side of that coin and when there’s no one drawing a line in the sand, things become . . . hazy. Horrific.

I was twenty-three the last time I came here, coincidentally the same age Hannah is now.

“Mason, slow down ,” she grits and when I don’t immediately stop, she jerks her hand out of my grasp. I spin, but she’s already storming past me and to the truck.

“What’s your problem?” I grit, voice strained with the irritation coiling through me. I brought her here. I went above and beyond. I fucking threatened a man at gunpoint to get information about her maggot of a sister.

All for fucking her. Because I can’t stop and I for damn sure can’t help myself.

“What is wrong with you?” she snaps, whirling on me when she reaches the truck. I step right into her until her ass is pressed into the cool door behind her, both my hands on the truck window on either side of her head.

“I think I should be asking you that very same question.”

“You could have gotten us killed,” she snaps, tears glowing under the dim fluorescent lights overhead. “A fucking gun, Mason?”

“Would you have rather I let him keep you? I’m sure you’ve heard the stories.” She glowers at me, but she doesn’t argue. She knows I’m right. “Like it or not, princess, you’re in this with me and me alone. No one else is going to help you because your sister fucked over every single person she came into contact with, including you. You’re just too damned proud to see it.”

Her lips purse in anger and then she’s placing her hands on my chest and shoving me as hard as she can. I take a step back because my cock’s rock fucking hard in my jeans and fucking her right now is the last thing I want to do.

Well, it’s actually the only thing I want to do, but not after the Inner Sanctum. Not after Drew Marshall and his perverted lair of cameras. When I fuck her, I want her needy and begging for me, spread out in my bed with not a fucking shred of fabric between us.

Not here, in a dingy parking garage.

“You think I don’t know my sister was an awful person?” she challenges, biting back tears in her eyes even as they stream down her cheeks. “You don’t think there’s not a part of me that hates her as much as everyone else does? As much as you do?”

“What I can’t figure out is if you’re just a masochist or just a fucking idiot.”

Shock pools on her face and then, as if the universe wants to make sure I know I’m the asshole here, tears well in her eyes.

“Fuck you , Mason. Take me home,” she demands, tugging on the truck door handle.

“Gladly,” I bite, letting her struggle for just a moment longer before she glares at me over her shoulder and I finally unlock it.

She gets in and I slam the door, a little harder than I mean to and she jumps, scowling out the front window.

The ride to the little pink house in West Los Angeles is a tense one, both of us pissed off. Both of us high off the adrenaline of the club. I want to rip something to shreds after Marshall threatened her and right now, it’s that fucking top she’s wearing.

I need to get her home. I need to take a cold fucking shower.

I need to go back to the club and take care of the cockroach that is Drew Marshall before he ever gets the chance to get close to her again.

When I pull to a stop in front of her house, she starts to rifle through her little shoulder bag.

“Stop.”

“Nope. I don’t want to owe you a single thing,” she replies cooly, rifling through hundreds in her wallet.

Jesus fucking Christ.

She’s pissed. I get it, but so the fuck am I.

“Go inside, Hannah.”

She throws a hundred at me like my truck has become some kind of aggressive strip club.

I throw it back.

She moves to throw it again and this time, she stomps out of the truck and up the sidewalk toward the house before I can reciprocate.

Fucking hell.

“Hannah,” I bark, sliding out and following her, even as she gets out her keys.

She shakes her head. “Take it and go. I should have known this was never going to work out.”

“Do tell, little doe. I’d love to hear your reasoning why you think you can get rid of me.”

“I’m not playing these games, anymore. Being punished for something I didn’t do. For caring about my twin sister. Yes, she was terrible to me in the last couple years, but it was your stepfather’s fault and no one’s holding you accountable for what he did.”

Fuck me.

“Is that what you think we’re doing?” I bite, gripping her under the chin to force her to look at me. “Playing games?”

“I don’t care what you want to call it. I’m not doing it anymore. I—” Her resolve wavers for a moment. “I don’t want to see you again.”

“Say it again,” I dare her, taking a solitary step toward her.

I give her another moment. Time for her to tell me to release her again.

I cock a brow when she doesn’t.

“You want me gone, say it, Hannah.”

Her lip wobbles with the tremor that moves through her. I can’t tell if she’s terrified or if she wants me as much as I want her.

“No.”

There’s a moment— a cacophony of ringing silence and the roar of the pissed off animal in my head that refuses to let her go.

This shit has gone on far too long.

You know what?

“Fuck it.”

The moment her lips meet mine, her startled gasp turns into a soft moan. Her hands go to my hair, instantly fisting the roots, but she’s not pulling me away. She’s tugging me closer.

It’s rough, impatient, and anything but romantic, but fuck, I need to feel her.

She deepens the kiss, slipping her tongue against mine and I growl, low in my throat at the taste of her. Fucking sweetness and honey and everything I’ve been craving since I left her in the garage this afternoon.

I nip her bottom lip when her fingers slide lower, blunt nails digging into the muscles of my back and it’s then I decide this obsession has gone too far and now, I have no intention of turning back.

I want her.

Isn’t that fucking ironic?

Her legs lock around my hips and I lift her to straddle me, crashing back against the wall with a hand behind her head. She pulls away, just an inch, and her teeth chatter as she moves against me, grinding her pussy on the length of my cock.

Carefully, I step toward the wicker couch on the patio. This wasn’t my intention for tonight, but now that we’re here, uninterrupted, with those little moans rolling off her tongue like Hail Marys, I’ll be damned if I stop.

I’m going to show her what it means to be mine.

“You make me so goddamned crazy,” I bite, falling back on the couch with her over me, her hands raking up the back of my neck and a heat in her eyes that steals my next breath.

“Mason,” she breathes, a shudder rolling through her when I pull her against my chest and nip the pulse point below her ear, before sucking it between my lips.

“You don’t want me?” I taunt, hands sliding down to cup her ass through the same fucking skirt that’s kept me both pissed off and preoccupied most of the night.

“I hate you,” she grinds out, but the threat is lost on me when I move lower, kissing the hollow of her throat, then her chest. I slip down, running my tongue over the seam where the lace of the corset meets her breasts, and fist her hair to tug her head back and give me more room. She melts, giving me a little roll of her hips, eliciting a sharp intake of breath when her pussy grinds against my cock.

“Your pussy says otherwise, little doe.”

I slip my hand under the hem of her skirt and use my palm on her ass to move her against me again. Her skin is soft, perfect under my fingers and I’m both thankful and pissed off I didn’t take her inside where I could spread her out on the bed and fucking feast on her.

“Tell me what’s in your nightmares.”

Her eyes screw shut and a soft moan leaves her when I meet her next thrust, kneading the flesh of her ass while I move her against me. I’ll get my answers, one way or the fucking other.

“You,” she pants, a tremble moving through her when I slip a finger into the top of her corset and peel it down.

Fucking finally.

“And what about me?” I kiss the swell of her breast, swirl my tongue over the soft skin above her nipple, suck on the underside.

Fucking perfection.

She whimpers, back arching when my teeth graze her skin, her voice coming out rushed and desperate.

“You kissing me. Your tongue.”

Sweetheart, my tongue’s not the only thing I’d use on you. “You dream of me, little doe?”

She nods, pinching her eyes shut, and lets out a cry that I’m sure will be the last nail in the coffin to finally send me straight to the insane asylum.

Joke’s on them. I’m not going without her.

She did this to me and I’ll drag her to hell right behind me if it means I won’t have to give her up again.

“Turn around.”

She pauses when I still her hips, green eyes glowing in the moonlight overhead.

“Turn. Around.”

Awkwardly she does, a startled gasp leaving her when I tug her back into my front. I smile against the side of her neck. I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of her little sounds.

She trembles in my lap when my hand slips down her stomach, to the fishnets covering her thighs that I will definitely be burning later. “This fucking outfit,” I grit, moving higher, under the folds of the skirt to where the fishnets meet right at the apex of her thighs.

“What if someone sees?” she breathes, but in that moment when she wiggles against me, I don’t think she much cares.

“Do you want me to stop?”

“No.”

“My little exhibitionist.” I seize her by the throat, tugging her head back to whisper in her ear. “And if anyone does see, I’ll let them die a slow, painful death while they watch me fuck you.”

“Mason,” she gasps, a shiver running down her spine, though I’m not sure if it’s from my dark words or the way I fist the fishnets and rip a hole right in the center of them. “I thought you couldn’t stand me?”

She shakes her head, but before she can speak, I slip her panties to the side and run a finger through her folds. Soaking fucking wet.

“This better all be for me.” My cock aches to be let free, but this is one of those moments where I need to control it because fucking her here is not in the cards right now. I don’t have it in me to be gentle tonight. Not like she deserves. “Place your feet on either side of the ottoman.”

“But—”

“You want to come?”

I’m nearly blind with the need to sink inside her, but if she wanted me to, I’d let her go. Even if my cock feels like it would go on strike because of it.

Begrudgingly, she places each foot on either side of my legs, effectively spreading herself open for me. I pull the skirt down farther, thanking fucking God, the universe, mother fucking nature, that it still covers her. I’m not lying when I say I’ll fucking gut anyone who sees her.

“You listen so well when you’re aching for me, little doe. Maybe I should piss you off more often.”

“Fuck you” she bites, though it lacks any real enthusiasm with the quiet gasp that slips free when my finger enters her.

“Soon . . .” I grit. So fucking tight. “Tell me what’s going through that pretty little head.”

I suck on the flesh of her neck, marking her for myself while I move that finger in and out of her at a painstakingly slow pace. She’s tight, fitting snug around me and so fucking perfect, my hand fucking shakes.

It pisses me off.

“ Hannah .”

“You,” she breathes, arching into me. “How much I can’t stand you. How much I can’t stand that I want you.”

“That makes two of us.”

I rub my palm against her clit, the sounds of her wetness filling the room and mixing with the harshness of my breath.

“Mason . . .” she moans, biting her bottom lip between her teeth and just like that, I’m ready to sign my own death warrant hearing my name like that on her tongue.

Shit can get addicting.

Her fingernails dig into my hand at her throat and then the one buried in her panties, whimpering as I adjust my hold to grind against her clit. Heat builds at the base of my spine, my balls tightening with the force of her ass rubbing my cock, but I ignore it.

I shift, forcing her to widen her legs and give me all her weight, I tug her flush against my front, lift her leg to the railing of the porch, and bring her right to the cusp, quivering and nearly shattered.

“Fuck,” I hiss through my teeth, her arousal slipping down my fingers. “So fucking perfect.”

I grip her throat in my hands, tightening until it muffles the sounds of her cries while her body tightens around my fingers.

“These are for me and me alone.”

“I’m going to—” she pants, voice strained for oxygen.

Then I pull out.

“I thought you hated me?” I chuckle darkly, letting her orgasm fade before slipping back inside her. She whimpers the moment she’s in my hands again.

“You’re such an asshole,” she grits, breathing as ragged as mine. Her fingernails leave little half-moon crescents in the skin of my wrist, the sting of pain turning into lust. The pain keeps me grounded, staving off the need to feel her tightening around my cock instead.

“And you’re a fucking brat.”

She moans and it’s the sexiest fucking sound I’ve ever heard. I can feel her tightening, her movements growing choppier. The need to watch her come isn’t one I’d anticipated, but now, it’s all I fucking want. To watch the prim and proper California princess fall apart from my doing.

“You want to come, Hannah?”

She nods her head, lost in the pleasure as her movements become choppy against my hand. She grinds her pussy into my palm, while I thrust inside her with my fingers until the sounds of my hand meeting her flesh fill the air around us.

“Use your words,” I rasp low in her ear as I draw out my motions, keeping her right on the precipice of losing control.

“Please,” she whimpers, voice soft and breathless. “Please, Mason.”

“Please what?”

“Please make me come.”

She lets out a strangled sound when I quicken my pace, aligning to hit her at the perfect spot and tightening my grip on her throat to steal some of that fight left in her voice.

“Show me how pretty you can come for me, Hannah,” I rasp and this is what pushes her over the edge.

With a shrill cry, her pussy clamps down on me to the point of nearly pushing my fingers out of her. The sound reverberates through me, even as she collapses against my chest, writhing above me like she’s in the middle of receiving an exorcism.

I’m not sure how much time passes as we both pant, breathless and hot, before she speaks.

“Holy shit,” she breathes, chest heaving to match my own.

Fuck, that was intense.

A shudder moves through her and slowly, carefully, I remove my hand from under her skirt, running up her side and drawing shivers out of her.

My cock still aches for her, but I can see the moment the postcoital clarity sinks in. Her cheeks flame and she shifts above me when I withdraw my fingers from her, my hand shaking like I’d just lost my fucking virginity.

Jesus Christ.

“Still want to get rid of me?” I ask when a tremble rolls through her, though even I can hear the darkness winding its way through my voice. The barely caged desire to carry her inside and make her moan my name like that until her voice is hoarse.

“Shut up,” she groans under her breath. “Please.”

I chuckle, shaking my head.

Fuck, I need to get her out of here. I need to take a ride. Clear my head of all things Hannah.

I need to find her damned sister so she can go back to her side of the state and I can stay here, in mine.

“Mason . . .” she starts, voice small and I know that this is the moment that follows obtaining the obtainable. I slip the hundred back in her purse while lead fills my veins.

“Go inside, Hannah.”

Carefully, she nods her head, her green eyes looking anywhere but at me as she climbs off my lap. Unfortunately, her scent lingers.

Without a word, she nods carefully and moves toward the door, the sounds of her pretty little moans echoing in my ears and I watch her.

I get it. Now that she’s come there’s that doubt there, slowly trickling back in like the poison her sister loved.

I’m not the man of her dreams. I’m not her knight in shining armor. I’m a goddamned mechanic. My house has three bedrooms, none of which are in a huge mansion. There’s no staff to clean up. No one to cook. No one to protect her but me.

It’s wrong for her to want me.

I’m a monster, hiding in the dark, waiting to strike when she least expects it.

And now, I’m fucking attached.

She wouldn’t get it. Kenda the “world-renowned” therapist wouldn’t get it.

Fuck, I’m not even sure I get it.