Page 166 of Hockey Halloween
I take another step. When I sit, she doesn’t stop me. “I can’t promise no gossip or drama, but I can promise to try to minimize it. And as you’ve seen tonight, the de la Peñas can make a lot of shit no longer relevant.”
She nods. “She assures me she has my back, and I believe her. But I’m still… anxious.” She rubs her chest, and the lion in mine rears its head, wanting to chew Johnny White into tiny pieces for making her ever feel afraid of anything.
“I’m not like him, Lilith.” I hold her guarded stare.
She leans forward to caress my cheek. “I don’t think you are, Mason.”
Mason.
No one calls me Mason. Not even Mom. Everyone calls meMac, or Beast. The way Lilith says my name warms something deep inside.
Heaving out a sigh, I hang my head, making my shaggy hair hang over my forehead. “I’m so tired of people only ever seeing the beast.” My voice breaks. It’s a bone-deep vulnerability I’m not used to sharing with anyone but my therapist since the accident.
“Then how about you take some time to show me who the man behind the mask is?” She’s still tickling my cheek with her featherlight touch. I can’t help leaning into her soft skin, her gentleness, and her desire to know me, to really know me.
“I will. We have plenty of time for that, but what I’d really like right now is to kiss you again.”
Lilith
We’ve gone from making out on the couch to being naked and making out on top of the covers on Mason’s bed. His teammates started to trickle through the door, leaving us both aching for more privacy. Not sure how Mason managed to climb those stairs with such a painfully obvious hard on, but it was still there when we got into his room.
It’s impressively persistent.
His room is dark and classically ‘Mason.’ Everything from the navy bed sheets, and the musky, masculine smell permeating the air makes me think of him. Tall, strong, not overly fussy or extra, with a slight tinge of mint and lemon like he’s recently done some cleaning.
I’m not kidding myself. We’re both running on lust alone. We haven’t known each other long enough to even know if he’s a heavy breather, pees on the toilet seat, or leaves his smelly socks lying strewn around his room.
What I do know, is his hands glide across my body like it was sculpted just for him. His intense gaze spears into mine leaving me breathless, like he can see every secret I’ve ever held. And his lips?Those kissable pink pillows he keeps sweeping across my hungry mouth? They taste like bubble gum.
My body reacts to his. My heart races, my back bows, and my hips roll against his mattress in desperate, jerky movements.
It’s been so long since I’ve been made to feel special, wanted,noticed. And Mason McGuffin? That man is noticing.
I have a scar on my collarbone from when I was a child, and he’s taking his sweet time tracing every edge, as though he’s committing it to memory.
He brushes his mouth across it, then blows on it, then retraces it with his fingers. He’s methodical, repeats the process down my breastbone, then on each of my bare breasts, taking his time like he’s not in any kind of rush.
A whimper slips out from between my parted lips. He’s barely touched any traditionally erogenous zones on my body, but I’m primed. My nipples are hard, my pussy is dripping and pulsing with a demanding, urgent need to be touched. My pulse flutters in my neck and wrist—he kisses those too.
“Mason.” His name is a plea, a prayer, a demand falling from my lips that makes his mouth twitch.
“What’s wrong, night monster?” He drags his flat tongue down the length of my stomach, circling around my belly button. “You need something?”
I’m panting, my skin’s flushed, and I’m already sweaty. It’s not a good look, but when he looks up at me under those long lashes, he doesn’t seem to care.
I buck my hips, my feet scrambling for traction on the sheets as my fingers ball the soft fabric into fists. “Mason… please.”
He settles between my thighs, hooking my legs over his shoulders. “Please, what?” His soft string of delicate kisses along the sensitive skin of my inner thighs has me begging, whispering my pleas.
“Can’t hear you, Ghost. You have to speak up; your thighs are clutching my head pretty tight.”
I’m going to die. Mason McGuffin is going to edge me into oblivion.
When he spreads my pussy lips with his thick fingers and blows on my clit, the resulting, delicious shiver that makes its way from my toes to my head and all the way back down my body is fucking fire.
Spearing my fingers into his hair makes him groan. Raising my hips, my pussy to right under his nose makes him grin, but he still doesn’t move.
“Use your words, Lilith.” He’s so close to my pussy his words spread a warm breath, ramping up my hunger to an eleven.
