Page 57 of Dirty Ink

“Rachel—"

“Get off me,” I screamed.

Mason pulled back. “Rach—"

“I have to go,” I muttered in a sort of state of shock as I climbed out of the bed and ran from the room, Mason’s come dribbling down my thigh.

I didn’t care if I lost. In fact, I wanted to lose. I wanted to get as far away from there as I could.

I didn’t want to play games anymore.

Rachel

Then…

I tried pushing at Mason’s shoulders, but it was no use. It was like trying to push against a boulder. Or a brick wall. Or a—oh God, you pick your own analogy if you want. I was far too preoccupied to focus.

“I’ve got to—no, no, I’ve got to—”

Mason’s tongue paused only long enough for him to lift his head between my legs, lips wet with me, and grin. “You’ve got to come all over my face is what you’ve got to do.”

He nipped at that sensitive skin at the inner thigh, a reprimand, and my head fell back with a groan as he kissed it. And then kissed farther up. I dragged my fingers through my hair as Mason’s tongue went back to work on my pussy.

“I’ve got to go,” I whined, already losing the will as Mason circled his tongue over my clit. “I’ll be late for my show if I don’t leave now.”

Mason murmured something against me. I propped myself up on my elbows to see him. Good God that was a mistake. How the fuck was I supposed to pull myself away from that? The muscles of Mason’s back rippled beneath his tattoos like the goddamn tides at midnight. Smooth as silk. Powerful as the ocean itself. His bare ass was clenched as he rolled his hips against the sheets, getting off as he got me off. Unable to stop himself. The greedy bastard. His legs were a fucking mile long on the crumpled sheets (sheets we’d crumpled) and as thick as logs. I’d felt their strength over and over again in the last few days. As he held me up against the wall. As he pounded into me against the glass shower wall. As he hoisted me up onto his cock and thrust his hips up into me.

The final nail in my coffin was seeing his eyes. Those bright green eyes, filled with lust and flashing with desire, boring right into me. Fuck.

“What did you say?” I managed to ask as I gripped the sheets on either side of me.

“To go,” he said between licks, “you need to come.”

“No, no,” I groaned as I flopped back, fingertips tingling, lips buzzing like he’d smeared them with whiskey. “Mason, I’m going to be late.”

“Do I have to punish you again?”

“What?”

“When I say come, what do you fucking do?” came Mason’s mumbled reply.

Mumbled because he was sucking on me. Licking me with such a fury that there was going to be nothing left of me.

“But my show,” I muttered, already knowing that I was halfway gone. “I’m going to—I’m—”

“This fucking body is mine.” He pushed a finger into my pussy and curled it round. “This pussy is mine.”

He could have kept reminding me, but he didn’t need to. He’d release me when I released myself. There was no getting around it. I didn’t want to get around it.

I sagged against the pillow.

“Good girl.”

He added a second finger. And I melted further for him.

In another world he was making my dinner so that I wouldn’t be late. He was checking the bus schedule for me or offering to drive me or reaching my costume from the laundry for me. In another world, he was wrangling up the kids to kiss me goodbye for the night. Or promising to help them with their schoolwork as I darted out the door. In another world he was at the kitchen table. “Yes, yes, I’ll talk with our tax attorney. Just go. You’ll be late.”

The thought almost made me laugh. It was silly. Ridiculous even.

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