Page 15 of Choosing the right Man

He throws his head back and laughs. I feel my own lips twitch, but clench my teeth together to keep from smiling. I don’t want him to know I’m enjoying our conversation. It will only encourage his terrible behavior.

“Damn, when we come together, we’re going to set off fireworks,” he says after a bit.

“Keep dreaming.”

“Oh, I have been. Last night in the shower while the hot spray was flowing over me, I pumped my dick while imagining your lips around my cock. I shook with pleasure as I imagined filling your glorious mouth with my come while you knelt before me. I then pictured carrying you to my bed, throwing you down, and spreading your thighs wide while I buried my head between them. As I leaned my head back with my eyes closed, and licked my lips, I could taste you on my tongue. There’s no doubt you’re a mixture of sugar and spice... and I’m hungry. I’m especially looking for something wickedly sweet right now.”

I have to suppress a groan as I clench my thighs together, heat and moisture surging through me. My nipples harden and it takes all I have not to squirm in the seat next to the man who’s saying things to me no one has ever said before. If I closed my eyes right now, I could picture us doing all of this... and so much more.

“I can pull over and make you sing, Chloe. I’ll even promise not to fuck you, to simply give you pleasure while I stroke myself, not coming until I make you explode.”

This time I can’t keep a gasp from escaping as I lean against my window, clicking the down button. I need air, and a big glass of cold water thrown right into my face. I don’t say a word. He did what he set out to do: put visions of us together looping over and over again in my head.

Mason keeps driving, and thankfully doesn’t say another word. I’m not sure I’m capable of getting any words out of my closed throat. We take a turn and I let out a sigh of relief as I see the Pacific Ocean appear before me, the sea nice and calm on this beautiful Saturday morning. I don’t make it back often enough to see my father, and visiting here makes me miss it more than I realized.

“It always calms me to come back to the beach,” Mason says, a bit of awe in his voice. It makes me admire the man. I don’t want to find anything about him to like, but anyone who appreciates the serenity of the ocean like I do gains some bonus points in my book.

It’s been about twenty minutes since we’ve last spoken so I think I can now get words out. I’ll at least try. I take a few deep breaths as I continue facing forward, letting the calmness of the waves wash over me and soothe my hot body. Maybe I’ll get used to feeling this way, used to how this man makes me burn. Besides, itwilleventually fade, I assure myself. All I need is time. He’ll get bored with this game soon enough when he understands I won’t have sex with him.

“I grew up on the coast with my dad and we didn’t have much money, but we did have all of this beauty around us. We’d spend hours walking through the dunes and along the beach. Whenever I had a bad day, I’d come to the beach and sit, taking in the sounds, smells, and ambiance. It never failed to soothe me. It still does,” I tell him without thinking. I don’t want to share my deepest feelings, but I can’t seem to help it. This place lowers all of my defenses.

He reaches over and takes my hand before I’m able to stop him. He doesn’t say anything... and I don’t immediately pull away from him. It’s one more thing for me to feel guilty about later. For now, I’m in my happy place.

We make a few turns and then he pulls up to an incredible home with a spectacular view of the ocean. “We’re here,” he says.

I discreetly pull my hand from his as I sit in the vehicle in awe of this palatial home. It’s one of the places I’d see while walking on the beach as a teenager and dream of one day owning. That dream seems ever further away. I don’t fret on it though. I have a good life, and I don’t need to own a dream home to be fulfilled.

Before I can exit the vehicle Mason gets out, walks to my side, and opens the door, holding out his hand. I ignore it as I climb from the SUV. I don’t plan on going inside but I do need to stretch my legs.

“How long will we be here?” I ask.

“I’m not sure,” he tells me.

“Why don’t you take care of whatever you need to do and I’ll take a walk on the beach?”

He instantly looks offended at this comment. I don’t see how. Entering his mother’s place is awkward. There’s no need for me to go inside.

“We can walk on the beach after,” he says. He doesn’t bother arguing. He’s too used to getting his way. I can understand why as he places his hand at the small of my back and nudges me forward. Unless I want to pitch a major fit, I have no choice but to press forward.

We make it to the entrance of the home with a massive over-sized door. He enters a code, then steps inside. I try not to show my awe at the beautiful, spotless interior with large windows letting the brilliant morning sun brighten the entire space.

I look around at the large picturesque windows, huge exotic plants, and furniture so clean and sophisticated I’m afraid to come near any of it. I’m sure that just one couch in this house is worth more than my entire furniture collection back in Portland. The extent of some people’s wealth truly boggles my mind.

We steadily move forward, and it’s clear that Mason’s fully at home. I try to see this place through his eyes and compare it to the way I grew up in the same town. It’s impossible not to make comparisons.

My dad is no longer living in the crappy trailer I grew up in, thankfully. My grandmother died several years ago, and he received a decent inheritance, which to my father might as well be a million dollars since he loves living frugally. He bought a small cabin in the hills that surround this coastal town. It’s absolutely perfect for him.

He doesn’t have room for guests to stay over, but he’s a simple man. No amount of money will change that for him. I love visiting with him at his cabin, love sitting on his small back deck drinking a cup of coffee and catching up on our lives.

My dad loves picking mushrooms, and has done it for as long as I can remember. Though it doesn’t pay as much as it used to, he doesn’t care. It gives him a little extra pocket cash, and he gets to do what he loves most, walk through the woods and enjoy nature. My father isn’t a man who wants to be locked inside. He’ll choose searching through the woods for hidden treasures every day over living in a luxurious palace.

It isn’t the size of your house, or even what’s inside that matters. What makes a place a home is love, hope, and a multitude of dreams made inside the four walls holding the place together. I’ll take a rundown trailer or a tiny cabin in the woods any day of the week over a mansion that’s empty and cold inside.

“Mason, it seems you’ve brought me a visitor,” a beautiful woman says, beaming at both of us as we step inside a chef’s kitchen any cook would fantasize about owning.

“Does this mean I get extra goodies?” Mason asks, making the woman laugh as she quickly rises from her stool and steps over to engulf him in a hug. It’s clear that the two of them areclose. This surprises me. It’s difficult to think of him as a callous monster when he obviously loves his mother.

“Don’t you be rude,” the woman says as she lets go of him and focuses her full attention on me. The woman is absolutely stunning, not looking old enough to be Mason’s mother. There are a few laugh lines at the corners of her eyes, but her flawless skin is glowing, and a twinkle in her eyes tells me she doesn’t take life too seriously. She also seems genuinely kind and interested in who I am.

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