Total pages in book: 136
Estimated words: 131821 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 659(@200wpm)___ 527(@250wpm)___ 439(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 131821 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 659(@200wpm)___ 527(@250wpm)___ 439(@300wpm)
My toes curl into the blanket, and I give a tiny tug.
The fleece hiding him from me falls to his thighs, and my face grows beet red.
Mason’s hand is wrapped tight, his dick silky and solid and swollen in his fist. The tip is glistening, a thick gleam slipping down the head, and when he takes his thumb, brushing it over the wet spot, I moan, licking my lips.
His eyes snap to mine, and my entire body quakes, my core locks, pleasure bursting low and all the fuck over, but my hand won’t stop.
And neither will the feeling.
Mason runs his tongue along his lower lip, and my hips fly up, chasing something, chasing more.
I need more.
His pace quickens, his hips raising with each long pump, and then his eyes widen, his muscles growing tight, and I clench my eyes closed, my own hand moving faster.
A second wave is about to crash.
“I don’t think so, baby,” he groans. “Let me see you.”
I listen, and when his free hand falls into the space between us, I press mine into it.
“All I’m thinking about is you.” He squeezes, flipping our hands so his is on top, shoving our fisted connection into the couch as pleasure bursts within us, and I can see it.
His body pressing me into the bed. Burying me beneath his large frame. He’s so big.
Everywhere.
And I want him all over.
His hold starts to shake, and I pant into the air.
Our eyes are locked, the girl on the TV screams, and we both shake, hips jolting, bodies shuddering.
Long white ropes pulse from his dick, and I stare, the twisting and turning in my belly a full-blown whirlpool. I might drown.
Suffocate.
My lungs are drained, my body so tight it feels like it might snap, and then it does.
It shatters into a million tiny pieces, every single one laid out at his feet like I’m a peasant making an offering to the king.
I wait for the awkward silence to follow, but it never comes.
Mason sits up, shuffling around a bit as he cleans up, and then we’re lying side by side, tucked in each other’s arms, the movie still playing in the background.
I’m not sure how much time goes by, but when I wake in the morning, I find that I’m alone.
With a frown, I sit up, stretching, and follow the sounds coming from the kitchen.
As I reach the threshold, my feet pause, the sight a soothing, settling one.
Mason is sitting at the table, Deaton’s high chair pulled in close, a baby spoon pressed between his fingers.
He notices me instantly, his eye snapping up to meet mine.
The man smiles, and I feel it in my soul.
“Looks like mama’s awake, little man. What do you say? Should we tell her about our plans?”
Our plans.
His and Deaton’s and mine.
Heaviness falls on my chest, but hovering above it is a little white light, a soft tendril of what could be. Or maybe of what is.
I smile and step into the room. “Okay, boys. Lay it on me.”
CHAPTER THIRTY
Payton
Now, November
Pulling up in front of the Avix U football house, I put the car in park, my eyes gliding toward the white wooden door.
The last time I walked inside there, Mason led me by the hand.
The last time I walked out of there, it was with tears in my eyes…
“Hey.” Chase leans forward, his soft tone slipping through the memory, and I turn to face him. “You sure you’re okay?”
“Yeah. Yeah, just a long day,” I lie.
“You know you can come in if you want. We’re allowed guests.”
A derisive laugh leaves me before I can stop it, and I nod. “Yeah, I know.”
He nods, and when he opens the door, I climb out, too, meeting him near the hood. “Thanks for lunch.”
He grins. “Thanks for going for sushi with me. No one else will.”
“I mean, I did order a California roll, so it doesn’t really count, but…” I tease, smiling a little when he laughs.
“If you’re up for it, I’m free again tomorrow.”
“Maybe,” I joke. “But if so, I’d say it’s my turn to pick.”
“As long as it’s not pizza. I’m pizza’d out. That’s all everyone seems to get in this house.”
“I’m sure I can be a little more creative than that.”
Chase grins, but that grin falls right off his face, and two point five seconds later, the reason why reveals itself.
A big white Tahoe appears, and then he steps out.
If I could sink into the dirt, I would, but my feet are frozen, my eyes glued to his face, waiting for the moment he looks up.
It only takes a second.
His head lifts, eyes finding mine without effort.
His feet stop moving, his limbs locking in place as a thunderstorm of confusion, concern, and cold hard resentment rolls across his face. He looks…bad. Worn out and pale.
I try not to stew on the fact that no one saw him all night and the fact that his clothes look well worn, as if he’s had them on for longer than today, but the pit of dread in my stomach only grows wider, even if I’m the one who dug the hole to start.