Page 71 of Kings Have No Mercy

“I decide when I’m done with you,” he growls into my ear.

He’s sinking into me completely in the next second, his thick length seated deep. An instant tremble rocks through me and I shudder at how unbearably large and girthy he is.

Mason slaps his hands onto my ass and fucks into me with a mix of passion and aggression.

Desire sparks to life as a burning fire in my belly. Any exhaustion melts away, at least for the moment, as Mason grips my hips and I arch my back to meet him.

The wild sounds we make, the bed squeaking along with us, fill up the room. Anyone within a mile radius probably overhears.

But we don’t give a damn.

We don’t stop ’til we’re shuddering through the hard orgasms that slam into us. We fall to the pillows with entangled limbs and our mouths seeking each other out.

For a long moment, it’s the only thing we can focus on in the aftermath—kissing deeply, our bodies still abuzz with pleasure.

Mason’s rough hands glide over my naked curves and he presses himself into me. “I don’t think I’ll ever be done with you, Syd. You’ve got me fucking addicted.”

I smirk blearily at him, barely conscious myself. “You’re not the only one, Mace.”

* * *

The next morning, I’m exhausted and low on sleep. Mason and I were up throughout the night wreaking intense pleasure on each other, which hardly left any time for shuteye.

Do I regret it? Hell no. Am I in serious need of some caffeine? That should go without saying.

Velma casts a knowing smile at me as I plod into the saloon with a deep yawn.

“Up all night, girly?”

I return a tired smile at her. “You can say that.”

“You two forget I sleep under the same roof most nights? Those walls are surprisingly paper thin.”

I slide into one of the stools and help myself to a heap of eggs from the platter that’s been left out. “Your stepson is a very… hungry man.”

“There’s some imagery I never asked for,” she says, cranking out a laugh. “Which reminds me. I wanted to talk to you about something. Mason’s birthday is coming up and I was thinking we could throw him a surprise party.”

I’ve barely swallowed a forkful of scrambled eggs before answering. “I don’t know if I should be involved. Things between us are still new. That feels like something somebody who’s known him a while should do.”

“Don’t tie yourself into knots, girly. I just figured with you and Mace getting closer, you’d want to help out. You’ve only been here a few weeks, but you’re practically one of us.”

Velma’s words help me realize the opportunity this could present.

After thinking on it for a second longer, I change my mind. “If you think it’ll be fine if I do, I’ll help. Tell me what you need.”

“So here’s what I was thinking. It’s about time Mace let’s a load off. But he won’t ever do it less we do it for him. Tom’s the same way—stubborn as a mule and a workhorse all in one. It’s been a while since we’ve thrown a party out back on the patio. We could do a bonfire and beer keg. Get him a big ol’ chocolate cake. He’d never admit it, but he’s got a real sweet tooth just like his father. It could all be a surprise. What do you think?”

“That sounds like it’ll piss Mace off,” I answer, then my lips quirk into a smile. “Let’s do it.”

“I knew you’d be up for it! How about you head down to the basement and do an inventory of tables and chairs? We should have some foldable ones down there from our last big party on the patio. I’ll call up some bakeries about the cake.”

We part ways with the first steps of our game plan figured out. Velma starts reaching out to different bakeries. I finish my scrambled eggs before heading down the steps leading into the basement.

The door swings shut behind me with a tone of foreboding that makes me flinch. Heavy shadows engulf the space the deeper I venture down the stairs. It might be summer outside, but in the basement a cold draft freezes the space, making it feel a lot closer to winter.

I shiver taking in the sight of stacked boxes of old supplies and crates of stale beer. In the far corner are the foldable tables and chairs Velma mentioned. I make a beeline for them, determined to get this over with as quick as possible. This basement gives enough bad vibes for gooseflesh to prickle my skin.

I swipe at the cobwebs spun over the table and chairs, trying to count them up. We have more than enough for a surprise birthday party. It seems like the space on the patio might not even be able to accommodate the number of tables and chairs we have.

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