Page 103 of Drown Like Heaven
I slipped out of bed, looking back at Mason still asleep, laying on his stomach with his head turned away from me. The comforter had fallen down his back and I could see his scars perfectly, twisted into his skin, stretching from his shoulders down to his spine.
Worried he might wake up, I hurried into the bathroom, bag in hand, then shut and locked the door behind myself. It was a bit colder in here compared to the bedroom and I wrapped my arms around myself while I went to pee, then brushed my teeth. My hair was a disaster, so I got to work brushing it out until my lengths hung tangle-free to my ass.
Then I got dressed and took my medications. Important for me not to miss my birth control now that I had a nightmare of a man finishing inside of me. I smiled to myself when I thought about it.Stupid.
When I quietly opened the door to the bathroom, I could see Mason was no longer in his bed. My stomach sank. I’d been hoping to leave before he noticed I was awake, to be long gone before he could trap me here for real. Carefully, I crept out into the hall, listening for him.
It was almost a compulsion, this need to try and push him away, to see if he’d come back again. Like I needed him to keep proving that I still wasn’t too much for him every time he uncovered some new piece of me.
He was in the kitchen, eyes tracking me as I passed him on my way to the front door.
“Trying to leave?” Mason crossed the room fast, cutting me off.
“I have class,” I reminded him, trying to squeeze around his large body blocking the door. It was requiring enough courage of me to leave without any hindrance; this would be my first time seeing Dr. Killshaw after leaving his office in a whirlwind of regret and panic.
“What class?” he pushed.
“Unit Ops first, then Process Design. Can I go now?”
“Who teaches those?” He still wouldn’t budge, strangely concerned by my responses.
“It doesn’t matter who teaches them. You wouldn’t know any of my teachers.”
Something flickered in his eyes, but it was gone too quickly for me to identify it. He stood taller, crossing his arms. “You need to shower. You look like you just got fucked.”
“Oh, my God. Who cares?” I asked, my voice raising in volume as I started to get exasperated. He’d been weird about this the first time I hooked up with him, too. Telling me to shower before class.
“Me. I’ll drive you to campus. Go shower.” His eyes searched mine. “You’ve still got my sweat and cum on you.”
I narrowed my eyes.What are you hiding?
The only reason I turned around then was because class didn’t start for another two hours, and itwouldbe really nice to get a ride instead of taking the bus. I wasn’t sure how far the closest bus stop was from here, anyway.
I stomped across Mason’s apartment, hearing him close on my heels as I shoved into his bedroom, then entered the bathroom.
He watched me through the mirror while he started the shower and I put my hair up in a messy bun on top of my head. Neither of us were speaking, and neither of us were looking away from the other. Annoyingly, it was making me wet.
I stripped all my clothes off; he kept his gaze pinned to mine.
The tiles were cold on my feet, my nipples hardening in the cool air and goosebumps spreading across my skin, raising the hairs on my arms. Steam started to fog up the glass shower stall. Mason followed me with his eyes as I crossed the room and pulled the door to the shower open. I paused for an instant, a weird feeling in my stomach. Like dread.
What are you thinking?
What are you about to do?
The second I stepped into the shower and pulled the door shut, Mason was right there, flinging it back open.
My breath caught in my throat.
I stumbled backwards against the wall, the hot spray washing over my body and the obsidian tiles slick on my back.
Mason reached into the shower fully clothed, water soaking his shirt as he grabbed me and hauled me out. I yelped in protest at the sudden coldness, but Mason was already flipping me around, pushing me down on the bathmat while he shoved down his shorts in front, fisting his hard cock.
“Say you’re mine,” he demanded.
“What?” I gasped, a rush shooting through my veins.
He pinned me down with his weight, his cock prodding my entrance. I squirmed beneath him, feeling myself getting wetter, whining at the feeling of my hard nipples on the textured bathmat. I gritted my teeth, pushing with my legs a little to rubmy chest over the fibers as Mason pinned my hands behind my back.
