Page 47 of Freaks Of Nature
“I thought Ash was taking me out.” Did they pull a switch on me again?
“He is.”
Mason takes an uninvited step inside as I half-stumble backward in shock. My mouth hangs open.
“But that doesn’t mean I can’t fuck you first.” The door slams shut behind him, and then he’s on me, bearing down on me with his staggering height.
My mouth goes dry as I can’t seem to close it while my accelerated pulse chokes my breath.
His eyes drop down, and he tips his head, teeth pinching his bottom lip.
I follow the motion as his hungry gaze drifts down my body, taking in every inch of my bare legs in slow, scrutinizing detail.
His attention makes my skin prickle.
“Look at you, baby girl. All dolled up,” he drawls with a suggestive lilt, stepping into me.
But I’m not game. I press my hands to his chest, stopping him from making further advances. “Am I just a number to you?” I bark, annoyed by the generic term of endearment. “Interchangeable with all the other ‘baby girls’ that came before me?”
I guess, unlike Ash, Mason can’t be bothered with remembering the names of his many hookup’s.
“No, Emily. You’re not,” he says with a sigh.
I scoff, unimpressed. “I’m surprised you know my name.” He’s never used it. “I assume Ash passed that on to you, like everything else I told him about me.”
“No.” He releases another sigh, his hands coming up to clasp my face, and his stunning green eyes holding mine. “I read your name on your doorbell when I followed you home that first night.”
My stomach drops.
And just like that Idowish he got my name from his brother instead of stalking me all the way home without my knowledge.
I stare at him blankly.
But my chagrin fades when he lowers himself to me. His mouth melts to mine as his hands shift and broad palms cradle my head while his fingers dance through my hair, pulling it lightly.
My body arches into him, compelled by the growing need to feel him against me.
With his tongue teasing mine in slow, exhilarating strokes, there’s something else that’s distinctly him:
Sandalwood and spice.
I recognize it from the bandana Ash blindfolded me with. It wasn’t the detergent or dryer sheets. It was Mason’s cologne.
The scent heats my chest and winds a slow path down to the empty space between my thighs.
I ache for him to fill it.
My hands slide up his chest to link behind his neck as I draw more of him into me. His body pressed to mine, Mason follows my lead, kissing me deeper, and winding me up with the slick curling motion of his tongue.
He feels so different from Ash.
They might look identical, but there’s something sinister about Mason. He never really smiles.
Ash is uncomplicated: what you see is what you get. But Mason? Mason is an abyss of mysteries that pulls me into its depths.
His darkness already has a hold on me.
His right hand skates down my front, rolling my hard nipple with his thumb as he squeezes my breast briefly.
