Page 25 of Boundaries

“Come upstairs with me,” he whispered. His voice deep with arousal and heat jetted into my sex.

His words however, shook me out of my passion-induced coma and I shuddered, digesting his meaning.

Mason McKenna wanted to have sex with me.

Panic kicked in and I shoved against his chest, hard. He didn’t budge.

“No Mason,” I choked out.

That sensitive area between my legs was still throbbing with need, but I had to deny it. I wasn’t about to give this boy my virginity on a whim. What the hell was wrong with me, why had I let him kiss me? Why had I behaved that way? Because you wanted it, my body rudely informed me.

Mason also seemed to come to his senses, recovering much more quickly than I did. He slid his hands off my bottom and took a step back.

His eyes roamed over my face, full of curiosity and sexual frustration. We were both still breathing heavily and I placed a hand to my chest to steady my nerves. I had almost lost it with Mason McKenna against a fucking tree for God’s sake! I was a slut, I had to be.

A silent look passed between us; like we both knew what had happened was wrong.

His expression then darkened and he said in a thick, angry voice.

“I’ll ask you one more time, and then the offer is off the table,” Mason growled out arrogantly. Like he was giving me the chance of a lifetime. It got my back up.

“No. Not if you were the last man on earth,” I bit back with a tone of my own.

His lip curled into a sneer, “Then you’re of no use to me. Get the fuck off my property.”

Those words drilled into me, the pain almost physical and I positioned my camera back in front of my chest from its haphazard position.

Shivering, I then pushed past him and ran all the way home.

The feel of Mason’s tongue in my mouth reminded me of my mistake for the rest of that night. That musky smell of him haunted my dreams or were they nightmares?

The degree of those new emotions I’d experienced that night, were overwhelming and I cried myself softly to sleep.

Five

Thankfully, the next week passed by without any more McKenna drama and I decided to put the kiss down to the madness of the situation. As Mason had said, fighting riled him up and got his blood pumping, which was probably why he’d acted the way he had. Who knew anyway, I couldn’t read the guy on a good day. But for my own sanity and the fact that I had a boyfriend, I needed to shelve the reminder of how good it felt to have my enemy’s mouth on mine.

The gossip in the village was rife with news about Nixon’s return home, but so far, we hadn’t seen or heard anything from him. He was probably laying low and strategically plotting his next move. Where that family was concerned, it was all in the planning. They ran their lives with military precision and did not adopt the fools-rush-in approach as my family did. We were hotheads, what can you do?

I worked at Kipling’s Trekking and Riding Centre which I could walk to as I didn’t drive and had no intention of taking lessons. Dad bought me a Mini for my seventeenth birthday last year, an incentive to encourage me to learn, but it was still sitting in the courtyard in front of our house. Alex had a car, as did most of my friends and so I’d never seen the point. Lazy and ungracious of me I know.

Since that night in the pub with Mason and his brothers, Alex had been curiously distant. We hadn’t seen each other much, as he’d been busy looking after his mother who had cancer. He wasn’t ignoring me and always replied to my texts, but it was like something was suddenly missing and I didn’t understand what or why. The memory of returning Mason’s kiss also kept guilt-tripping me. Maybe I was the one acting weird?

On Friday morning whilst I was mucking out one of the stables, I’d received a text from Betty to say that a party had been arranged by Wesley Bronson, a boy who used to live in our village. It was taking place on Cromer Beach on Saturday and I instantly wanted to go. If there was one thing Wesley was good at, it was throwing a party. They were usually wild, and the fact that his father was well-in with the authorities, ensured that the police turned a blind eye if things got messy.

Betty had dated Wesley briefly. He was a nice-looking guy, hung like a donkey she’d said, but couldn’t be trusted. If there was a King of the Players, Wesley would be it. His friends were the same.

After scattering fresh straw into Star’s stable, I reached into the back pocket of my jeans and withdrew my phone.

Bronson’s throwing a beach party in Cromer. Shall we go? I thumbed in the text to Alex, wondering if I’d get the cold shoulder. He wasn’t a great lover of parties; Alex could at times be socially awkward. I’d never understood why, as he was a great conversationalist; in small groups anyway. At times it felt like he was hiding part of himself.

The ‘Alex is typing icon’ appeared and I pursed my lips. I’d go with Betty if not. There was no way I was missing it. Anybody who’s anybody would be there.

Sure, what time shall I pick you up? Excitement ballooned in my chest. Finally, something to look forward to.

Our house had been doom-and-gloom for the past few weeks due to the Jenna and Nixon thing, and it had really ground me down. I needed a bit of adventure, some fun.

I replied with a smiley emoji and explained that I’d text him more details when Betty sent them to me.

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