Page 152 of Drown Like Heaven
Fragile.
Mason sat down in the water, pulling me onto his lap, hands massaging my ass.
It was heady, his total acceptance of me and the things I was afraid to want.
“Do you want to fight me? In your fantasy?”
“Yes,” I whispered. “And you’d hurt me. Hold me down.”
“So I’d keep you pinned below me, with my gun jammed against your skull and my dick inside of you?” he questioned, to which I fearfully nodded. “You’d be so fucking scared of me. So fucking beautiful.”
His cock was hard through his shorts, digging into the underside of my thigh. I fought the urge to look away from him, my hands sliding over his shoulders, gripping his biceps. His muscles were solid, sostrong, under my fingertips. I’d never be able to overpower him.
“And right when I come, you want me to pull the trigger?” he clarified, speaking slowly so neither of us could deny the words he’d said. There was no more pretending, no more obscuring the darkest parts of my brain.
“I guess so.” My body was too hot and my mind was swirling, my mouth dry, my pulse pounding. I thought of his body overmine, so heavy and immovable, so rough. Maybe choking me, or slapping my face, or covering my mouth and nose with his hand so I couldn’t breathe at all. His cock shoving into my pussy, ready to spill his cum deep inside of me.
I shivered and Mason noticed.
“You’re not lying, are you?”
“No.” I could be nothing but honest right now.
He tipped his head, putting his forehead against mine. “Dakota Masters,” he said, possessive. “You aremine.”
I’d never heard him say my full name like that. It made my heartbeat flutter at the base of my throat. It also made me think of Micah.
Fuck.
What am I doing?
I threw my arms around Mason’s neck and crushed my mouth to his, trying to kiss him so hard I wouldn’t be able to think about all my mistakes. Shame was a weight in my gut, pulling me down. Could Mason smell him? Is that why he made me take a bath? Did he know what I’d done?
My skin burned with self hatred, pressure building behind my eyes.
The vortex in my brain was yanking me down, down, down.
Horrible, fucked up fantasies. Forbidden sex. Violent sex. Giving my body to two different men in the same night. Was I capable of doing anything normally? Or was I destined to perpetually do bad, dangerous things to myself?
I hate it. I want to be someone else.
Mason pulled back, looking me in the face. Tears gathered in my eyes and I tried to kiss him again to hide them, but he held me back. Emotion consumed me, growing over me, swallowing me while I desperately tried to claw my way free.Too much. Too messy.
Too fucking sad.
“Hey,” Mason said, trying to free me from my spiral.
I attempted to push away from him, crawling backwards, the water choppy around me, but he snatched my arm, pulled me back.
“Stop.”
He was grabbing my chin, wanting me to look at him. I couldn’t.
My breathing became shallow and uneven. There wasn’t enough oxygen in my lungs, in my blood, in my brain. All I could think about washim.
The man who wrecked me first.
The reason I started fantasizing about dying.
