Page 89 of House of Payne
“God has nothing to do with it,” Mason tells me in a heavy voice punctuated by the occasional growl. “I’m the one. Say my name, London. Say it.”
“Mason,” I call out. “I… oh, oh,yes.”
“Tell me what you want me to do, London. Say it.”
“I want you to fuck me.” My voice catches toward the end. “Just like that. Fuck. Jesus.”
Mason pins my arms behind me and presses his face against me, his hot breath doing strange things to my insides. “That’s it. Feel it. Feel it all. Don’t hold back.”
I cry out again, and my body shakes as I ride out another earth-shattering high.
I can’t see as Mason flips me over again, sliding in and out of my field of vision. I blink, and I realize my skin is still tingling, and my lungs feel full. Mason thrusts one last time and then explodes inside of me, his body spasming with pleasure.
When he’s done, he sits up, and turns away from me.
I rub my wrists and avoid looking at him until he leaves the room.
Then I curl into a ball and squeeze my eyes shut, but the tears don’t come.
What have you done, London? What have you done?
Chapter Nineteen
Mason
My eyes fly open when I hear a soft whimpering sound.
Still half-blinded by sleep, I reach for the gun under my pillow and frown when I don’t find it. Abruptly, I sit up in bed, and my eyes dart around the unfamiliar cream-colored room. Frowning, I rub my eyes and twist to look at the person next to me, struggling to sort through the thick fog that has settled over my brain.
As soon as my eyes land on London, some of the fog clears, and the previous night comes rushing back.
I don’t remember coming back to bed.
All I know is that I left London in the room to go find a drink.
One drink turned into four, and at some point during the night, I found my way back to her.
I vaguely recall her curled up on the bed, eyelids fluttering in restless sleep.
I have no idea how or why I climbed into bed with her, or how hours later, with the morning sun climbing into the sky, I’m still in bed with her.
But it’s almost comforting to study her in the soft glow of the sun.
She looks peaceful with her hair fanned out behind her, and her hands curled under her.
Like her whole world hasn’t just changed.
Fuck.
This is why I don’t spend the night in any bed other than my own. It’s also why I don’t like to fall asleep next to the women I fuck. Seeing them in a different light complicates things, and London has already caused enough trouble.
I don’t like seeing her like this. It stirs unfamiliar feelings within me.
Feelings I don’t have the first clue what to do with.
London groans softly, and I resist the urge to reach out and tuck her hair behind her ear. Still, my hand darts forward, and I pull the covers up to her chin. She sighs, and her features soften further, causing my stomach to dip.
How can she look so peaceful after the night she’s had, and after knowing that the two people she cares most about in the world have turned their backs on her?
