Chapter 145 Chapter 145 Mason Fucking Jones
“Yes,” I whisper.
Mason pulls back just enough to look at me. “Yes?”
All I can think is what the hell is taking him so long. I shift, and before I even realize what I’m doing, I’m in his lap. His big, warm hands settle on my hips, grounding me. Our noses brush. I’m hovering, still up on my knees, not fully sitting—because I know the second I drop down, everything is going to spiral out of control.
“You’d let me kiss you?” he asks again, slower this time. “Elle… have you been with anyone since Nick?”
“Not until last night.” My eyes close for a second as I say it.
“You slept with Mike Stone?” He pauses, studying me. “How was that? Are you okay?”
“I am never going to sleep with another guy I feel nothing for.”
“Do you still have feelings for me?” His hands slide around to my ass, pulling me down onto his lap.
I drop, and fuck—there it is. I feel him. My whole body reacts instantly, heat flooding me, my pulse throbbing between my legs. My hands move over his arms, settling on his biceps, gripping without thinking. Mason rocks me forward, then back.
The friction.
“Mason…” I moan softly, barely holding it together as he keeps the rhythm going. “What the hell are we doing?”
“I honestly don’t know,” he admits, voice rough. “I just know I want you.”
My eyes flutter open, locking onto his. “Put your hand around my neck.”
His entire body tenses. His eyes widen immediately. “What? No.”
His hands start to shake—hard. Not just a tremble, but a full, visible shake. Like he’s terrified of touching me that way again.
I take his hand anyway, wrapping my fingers around his, guiding it up to my throat. He resists for half a second, then lets me place it where I want it.
“Here,” I say quietly, pressing his fingers into the safe spot. “Right here. Light pressure. Don’t cut off my air.”
His hand trembles harder before it finally steadies, his fingers curling just enough to hold me there.
Mason pulls me in, and then his mouth is on mine.
Deep. Slow at first. Then not slow at all.
His hand slips from my neck to my back as the kiss deepens, like he can’t quite trust himself. His lips move from my mouth to my jaw, then down my neck, placing soft, deliberate kisses from one side to the other. Each one feels like an apology. Like he’s trying to fix something he broke.
He shouldn’t be able to. He hurt me. Bad.
But somehow, the pieces of me start pulling together anyway. Not perfect. Not whole. Just… held together enough.
I grab his face, pulling him back to me, my fingers threading through his hair. He smells fucking incredible. His arms wrap around me, tight but not crushing, and we just sit there for a second, breathing hard, bodies pressed together.
“Do you want to take this into the bedroom?” he asks, softer now.
I hesitate.
Do I want this?
“Yes,” I breathe.
Mason stands, guiding me through the house. We pass his bedroom.
“I don’t stay in there anymore,” he says quietly. “I just can’t.”
There’s something in his voice—raw, real. It makes my chest tighten, but also… eases something. I don’t want that room either.
He opens the last door down the hall, and before it even fully shuts, we’re on each other.
Hands everywhere.
Clothes coming off too fast.
He helps me out of my sweats while I fumble with his jeans, yanking them down. His jersey goes over his head, and I don’t even think—my mouth drops straight to his abs.
“Fuck…” he groans, deep and rough.
My body pulses in response. Heat spreads everywhere, urgent, insistent. I want more. I need more.
I want his dick in my mouth.
I know I shouldn’t.
Fuck it.
I push him back toward the bed, my panties sliding down my legs as I move. The second he sits, my fingers slip into his boxers, pulling them down. I drop to my knees between his legs.
His eyes widen.
“Is this what you want, Mason?” I ask, looking up at him.
“I’ll take whatever the fuck you want to give,” he groans.
My fingers trace the thick veins along his cock, and then I lean forward, tongue out, dragging him into my mouth.
Fuck.
He’s big.
I can’t take all of him, so I use my hands, both of them, working what I can’t fit. My mouth moves slowly at first, then faster, finding a rhythm. Every suck sends a shock straight through me, my thighs pressing together as I get wetter and wetter.
His hands stay behind him, gripping the mattress. He doesn’t touch me.
Doesn’t push.
Doesn’t control.
Just lets me.
His low groans and grunts drive me insane.
“Sit up, Elle,” he suddenly demands, voice strained. “I’m not coming in your fucking mouth.”
I pull back, mouth open, tongue out, letting him slip free. He grabs me, lifting me up onto the bed, bending me over the edge. One knee comes up beside me as his hands grip my hips.
Then he disappears for a second.
I glance back—he’s grabbing a condom, rolling it on quickly.
Before I can even think—
He’s inside me.
And holy fucking shit.
My body explodes.
No warning. No buildup.
Just instant, overwhelming pleasure ripping through me, my vision blurring as he drives into me again and again. His hands dig into my hips, holding me steady as our bodies slam together.
Every thrust sends me deeper, further, unraveling me completely.
Just as I’m about to come—
He pulls out.
“Fuck!” I gasp.
He flips me onto my back and slides right back in.
My legs fold up, bent tight, his hands pressing them back. He moves fast, deep, controlled. I look up at him, really look at him.
He looks like him.
The Mason I remember.
The one who took me out, who made me laugh, who watched me play tennis like I was the only person in the world. The one who kept texting me after everything, even when I never answered.
The one who never really left.
My legs wrap around him as the pressure builds again, harder this time. I break.
Completely.
Everything I’ve been holding back—every emotion, every piece of grief, anger, confusion—it all crashes through me. Tears spill down my face as I come.
He pulls me up, shifting us further onto the bed without stopping, never leaving my body. He braces himself over me, the mattress dipping under his weight.
His mouth crashes into mine, tongue pushing in, messy, desperate.
My hands move over him, feeling every muscle, every shift under my fingers.
“I still love you,” Mason whispers.
The words hit me hard.
Too hard.
I don’t know what the fuck to say. I don’t even know what I feel. There’s something there—something real—but it’s tangled up in everything else.
And right now?
With him buried deep inside me, making my body fall apart all over again?
This is not the moment to figure that shit out.