Page 57 of Freaks Of Nature
WHACK!
The third strike catches the back of my thighs, and my orgasm explodes. I shatter into a million pieces.
My rushing pulse thrums in my ears, but I still catch the surprise in his voice. “Did you just come?”
“Yes!” I blurt to catch my breath.
Mason clicks his tongue with a note of amusement. “Bad girl, Emily. I wasn’t ready.” He tosses the belt to the floor and then fumbles with the rest of his fly. “You get that one for free,” he says, shoving his jeans down his thighs.
One hand at my waist, he teases me with the slick tip of his cock, nudging in just far enough to spread me open and letting me crown him, then retreating. I can’t take it. Tears spear into my eyes from the torture. It’s too much. I need him inside me.
“Please, Mason,” I cry, begging him to fill me.
He acknowledges my need with a grunt and stretches me around the thick head again. Then both hands are on my waist. Gripping me tightly, he yanks me into him to impale me on the first thrust.
I bury my face in the sheet and moan as the sensation rocks through me.
Mason’s left hand leaves my side to thread back into my hair, curling into a fist. “Eyes on the mirror, baby girl,” he reminds me. “I want you to see how beautiful you are when you climax. I want you to own it. Watch how much you love coming for me.”
And then he delivers. He pulls back to plunge his engorged length into me repeatedly, hard and deep, pummeling me with his thrust.
I take all of it. He feels so good pounding his hips into me.
Sparks flash in my vision with his fierce, unrelenting pursuit, and when his breaths turn jagged, I know he’s close. I watch his face in the mirror, his beautiful features twisted in pleasure that I bring out in him.
Then I climax too, right there with him, my body gripping his pulsing length as he spills himself into me.
Mason rears back, face toward the ceiling, highlighting the erotic curve of his throat and Adam’s apple with a roar. Every muscle is flexed, his hips still jerking.
A smile curls my lips.I did that to him.
He pulls out, letting himself fall onto the bed, and I have the feeling he won’t be getting up any time soon.
I turn around and collapse beside him. I need a few moments to recover before I can manage to take my skirt and boots off. I’m not even sure I have the strength to get up and brush my teeth.
My gaze trails over Mason’s relaxed face, eyes closed, and breaths deep. He didn’t even bother tucking himself away.
I chuckle. I guess I can muster up the energy to give him a hand with his clothes. At least, I don’t have to spend the night alone after all with a murderer at large.
My head turns toward the curtains, and a frown creases my brow.
I don’t know how he got in this time. The bedroom window looks untouched, and I didn’t see a crowbar anywhere either.
Mace
10years ago.
Leaning against the building’s brick exterior, I stand watch as Ash picks the lock—not that anyone is going to come snooping around; people here don’t give a shit. Even if they hear a scream. Or maybe especially then.
Ash is crouched low beside me, his back toward the street. His hood is raised, with a black fleece balaclava-type ski mask underneath, the face shield down like mine. We don’t raise them up just yet; they’re for dramatic effect later.
Fidgeting with my hands in my pockets, I glance left then right. Everything is quiet, but I’m itchy. I wanted to do this. I’ve been planning this night for too long.
Damn rock.Every other time Ash would play scissors, but today he throws paper?
“Tada!” he whispers, a grin on his face as he opens the door without a sound.
Showoff!
