Page 198 of Drown Like Heaven
He knows me differently. He takes care of me in a way you never will.
He protects me.
“Why do you care so much about him? Why do you care what he knows about me?” I let my legs fall apart more, let Mason’s hips come between them, his erection grinding on my core. “How the fuck do you even know him?”
“We’re angels living on Earth in close proximity. It’d be weird if I didn’t know him.”
“But why do youhatehim?”
Mason didn’t answer, tugging my underwear to the side and sinking a finger inside of me. I grabbed his wrist, maybe to get him off, maybe not. It didn’t really matter what I did, because none of this was ever on my terms. It was always Mason.
He built us; he broke us. I couldn’t do anything without him trying to drown me in one way or another. Every time I surfaced, he just dragged me back under. He didn’t want me safe; he wanted me desperate.
Warmth blossomed between my legs as Mason added a second finger, brushing his thumb over my swollen clit. His mouth captured mine roughly and my eyes slid closed. I was grabbing his shoulders now, bucking my hips, begging him with every inch of my body, begging formore. For something to make me feel.
“Why do you hate him if he doesn’t hate you?” I asked again.
“Is that what he told you?” Mason laughed, but the sound wasn’t nice. It was mean and sharp and scary.
I didn’t want to answer him when he got like this. I settled for kissing him instead.
But Mason ripped his mouth away, pushing off the bed and stalking over to his dresser. He yanked open the top drawer, then pulled out his gun. Goosebumps scattered all across my skin and I felt sick. I wasn’t sure if it was the same gun he kept in his car, but it looked identical.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
Chapter 53
Dakota
Mason’s brown eyes slid over to meet mine as he clicked the magazine back into place, approaching the bed again. I lay paralyzed on his black comforter, a million emotions racing through me, a million thoughts fogging up my brain.
“He told you that I hate him, and he doesn’t hate me back?” Mason asked again.
My chest started rising and falling rapidly as he knelt over me on the bed, sweat dripping on the back of my neck. The muscles in his arms and chest flexed, his abdomen taut, his cock still straining in his briefs. He tilted his head, inspecting me. I stared at his fingers wrapped around the black grip of the gun.
“You should probably answer me,” he said, casually lowering the tip of the barrel to brush against my stomach, circling my navel.
“Yes.” I swallowed, shivering. “That’s what he said.”
“You know he’s fucking lying to you?” He skimmed the gun upwards, dragging it along my sternum. The metal was so cold on my skin, tracing over my flying heartbeat. “Do you even realize how often he lies? You probably think he’s a good man. Honest.”
“I never said that. But—”
Mason moved quickly, pressing the side of the barrel to my lips, silencing me with the metal. My eyes rounded.
“But what, baby? What were you going to say?”
I stared at him, unable to speak with the way the gun was pushing on my lips. I hoped he could see how much I hated him when he acted like this.
“Don’t have much to say now, do you? So quiet. So sweet. Not so goddamn mouthy like this.” Mason’s eyes flicked all over my face, darting between my wide eyes, the metal shoved against my lips, and the heated blush staining my cheeks. “No more lying to me.”
He took the gun away, laying it down on the pillow next to my head.
“You can’t lie to me, either, then.” I tipped my chin up, keeping eye contact. “And never hurt me like that again—how you hurt my hand in the car.”
“You want me to fuck you with a loaded gun to your skull and you’re upset I leaned on your hand?” Mason scoffed.
I didn’t back down, despite the nerves twisting through me. “Yes. I am.”
