Page 55 of Bears Not Included

Livia

Tears start to roll down my face, and before long, I can’t control my sobs. I tried to keep my emotions at bay, but I’m failing.

“Fuck,” Mason growls softly beside me. He roughly veers off to the side the road. I’m vaguely aware we’re almost at their house and this is a private road, but I can’t stop seeing the dead man in the alley in my mind’s eye. The one who would have killed me.

Mason reaches over me, unbuckles the seat belt, and pulls me over onto his lap, and suddenly, that’s when everything seems to really come crashing down on me.

A cataclysmic wave of anxiety surges through me. I start to quiver, a panic attack, like the ones I used to have when I was a child and my mom died, starts in the pit of my stomach. I can’t breathe.

I would have died.

“Livia,” Mason says, unbuckling his belt and unzipping his pants. He pushes aside my panties and then grips my hips to lift me up.

“Guide my cock inside you. Now,” he commands. With tears rolling down my face, I do as he says, parting my folds and taking him into my body. The edge Mason has put me on the whole day brings with it fresh wetness, and as he presses me down on his shaft, he’s able to glide deeper into me easily.

I close my eyes to the anchoring feeling of him inside me. I cling to him, and he holds me even tighter as he makes my body move over his cock.

He saved my life, and yet I know he’s somehow angry that he wasn’t aware of the threat in the first place. Even I wasn’t aware of it until it looked me in the face with crazed eyes and hatred.

My head lolls back as he snaps open the buttons of the shirt I’m wearing, and I can’t contain the moan that soars from my lips as he engulfs my nipple in his mouth through the lace of the fancy bra covering my breast, soaking through the fabric with his mouth.

With his teeth he nips the sensitive beads my nipples have become , and my pussy pulses fiercely before he pushes so deep inside me that I feel as if I’m going to splinter apart.

And then I can’t control it or stop it. My body capsizes over into his as I come with such debilitating force. My body grips his cock so tightly, he grabs my ponytail, tilts my head back, and pulls his thickness out of my pussy.

My core still spasms from my orgasm, and Mason inserts two fingers inside me to catch the last of my contractions. His thumb slowly strokes my clit, almost as if he were soothing me but also creating a new frenzy I don’t know how to handle.

He only stops touching me when my breath steadies and my pussy stops spasming, but arousal still keeps me on edge. I need… I needed him to come inside me like I needed Callen to do the same.

Blazing red with embarrassment, I awkwardly climb off Mason’s lap. Once in the passenger seat, I neaten my skirt and press my thighs together so hard that my muscles start to cramp.

I look straight ahead of me while Mason straightens out his own clothes, shamefully aware his cock is still wet from my pussy.

He starts the car, hesitates for a moment, and then does a U-turn, which will take us away from their house. I’m too embarrassed to ask where we’re going, so I say nothing.

“Nothing will ever happen to you, Livia, not as long as we’re around,” Mason says softly.

But why? Why would they want to protect me? To what end? The more I ask that question, the less I understand about my situation as a whole. And I know asking why will give me the same answer each time: I belong to them, like a possession.

I still have no clue where Mason is going but he’s steered off the city roads and is headed toward more rural parts. After what seems like maybe thirty minutes or so, he turns onto a dirt road, drives for a little bit, and then parks the car off to the side.

Ahead of me, I hear the sound of children crying, some laughing, dogs barking, and grown-ups arguing with each other using obscenities I had never heard before.

It’s a trailer park, but with just two trailers, a couple of tents, and surrounded by the rusting metal of cars and old appliances. A fridge lies on its side, two men engage in a card game, and a group of women smoke and converse animatedly. Nearby another couple is having an argument that quickly turns violent and soon more people are in on the kerfuffle.

I turn and look at Mason, but his eyes are fixed on one particular spot, on one particular person. I follow his gaze to see a man downing a can of what appears to be beer, tilting his head of matted hair as far back as he can to get to the last drop of the beverage. He’s dressed in nothing but his underwear, the white fabric stained dark brown.

When he’s done, he hauls the can at a barking dog, who thankfully manages to dodge it. An old woman screams at him for what he just did to the dog, bashing him with a frying pan. He doesn’t even register any pain. Instead, he mutters something, drops his body into a camping chair, leans back, and falls asleep.

“That’s my biological father,” Mason says, but with zero emotion.

It takes me a while to register his words.

“He was a wannabe actor and a grifter and my mother was young and naive. He kidnapped us from my grandparents’ house once when they refused to pay him any more money to stay away.

“I was four years old and I can vaguely remember it. See that burned-out trailer?” Mason points to a heap of metal. “He tied my mother up, left me on the floor, got drunk, set the thing on fire, and tried to kill us.”

I gasp, but I don’t interrupt him.

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