Chapter 24: Chapter 24

JAMIE

A squeal escaped my lips as I jerked in surprise. Mason’s fingers were lightly drawing patterns on the bottom of my foot, which was resting on his lap. I attempted to pull away, but his hold was too firm.

“Mason,” I giggled, my cheeks turning a rosy hue. “Quit it! I’m ticklish!”

Mason let out a chuckle, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “I had no idea you were this ticklish,” he said.

He continued his playful assault on my foot, and I couldn’t stop laughing, my sides aching from the effort.

“Enough, please!” I squealed, barely able to speak through my own laughter.

He finally let go of my foot, and I quickly drew my legs up, protecting them from his tickling fingers. “That’s the last time you get to touch my feet,” I declared, my laughter slowly subsiding. “Tickling is pure torture.”

“I could always find somewhere else to tickle you,” he suggested, his voice dropping to a seductive whisper, sending a shiver down my spine.

I knew exactly what kind of tickling he was hinting at, and I was more than ready for it. “Oh, really?” I whispered back.

Mason slowly moved closer to me on the couch, his gaze locked on mine. His lips were just inches from mine, his breath warm against my skin.

“What’s your next move?” I whispered.

His lips, soft and inviting, met mine in a kiss that was both tender and insistent. His tongue immediately sought out mine. It felt like he had been waiting for this moment all day…which didn’t surprise me.

I inhaled his scent as his lips moved to my neck. A blend of sandalwood and something uniquely masculine filled my senses, leaving me intoxicated. His lips found mine again and I ran my fingers through his thick, dark hair, tracing the shape of his head.

As my touch grew more intense, he let out a soft groan, his hold on my waist tightening.

“Pants off,” he commanded in a low growl.

Mason didn’t hesitate. He pushed me back against the couch, his hands moving with a practiced ease. Before I knew it, my shorts were on the floor, discarded without a second thought. In the process, he knocked over a glass of red wine, the deep red liquid staining the beige rug in the middle of the living room.

A sigh slipped from his lips, but he didn’t even glance at the mess. “Rita will clean that up tomorrow,” he said.

A playful grin spread across his face as he leaned in closer, his eyes filled with desire. “Now, spread your legs.”

I parted my legs, giving him access. He pushed my panties aside, and I bit my lower lip, taking in the sight of him. Mason skillfully slipped two fingers inside of me, and I couldn’t help but moan in pleasure. His body hovered over mine, his fingers moving at a frantic pace.

“Mason…,” I moaned in a soft, pleading whisper. Every touch from him ignited a fire within me. With Mason, it was unlike anything I had ever experienced before. He knew exactly what to do, without me having to utter a single word.

He withdrew his fingers, leaned down, and whispered in my ear, “Turn around for me.”

To be honest, I was a bit taken aback, but more aroused by his request. Mason had always been gentle with me during our intimate moments, mindful of my injuries. I appreciated that. But he struck me as the type who enjoyed rough sex, who liked to dominate. Luckily for him, I wasn’t as fragile as I used to be.

He stood up, the soft fabric of his shirt rustling against his skin. With a swift movement, he pulled it over his head and tossed it onto the floor. Next, he unbuttoned his pants, his fingers moving with practiced ease. As he stepped out of them, the fabric pooled around his ankles.

I turned around, my body pressed against the back of the couch. Before I knew it, he was behind me, his body pressed against my back. His warmth seeped through my clothes, sending a delightful shiver down my spine. I could feel his breath on my neck, hot and heavy.

Mason’s hands traced the contours of my body, sending a thrill of excitement through me. “Are you okay with this?” he asked lowly.

I swiveled my head, locking eyes with him. His gaze was deep and fervent, a cocktail of longing and gentleness. I gave a nod, my lips curling into a grin.

“Yes,” I responded, my voice barely above a whisper.

Mason moved in closer, his breath grazing my cheek. “Let me know if I’m being too rough,” he said.

How rough was he planning to be? My body was still recovering. If I had known that intense sex was on tonight’s menu, I would’ve skipped physiotherapy. But I was about to find out, not because it was already happening, but because I wanted it to.

His hand found the small of my back, sending a shiver down my spine. I bent over, giving Mason the access he needed, grateful that my top was still on, hiding my scars. I arched my back, presenting myself to him, and he growled in approval.

He pressed his cock against my entrance, then pushed inside. I moaned as he filled me, inch by inch. He thrust, gripping my hips, driving into me from behind, again and again.

Mason planted heated kisses between my shoulder blades, hovering over me, his hips continuing to thrust against me. “You feel so fucking good,” he murmured.

His hand slipped under my top, cupping the fullness of my breast. His touch was firm, my nipples responding to his caress. The sensation was intense, a blend of pleasure and pain that I couldn’t resist.

I clutched the couch cushion as he pounded into me. My body tightened around him and I climaxed with a cry. Mason followed suit, gripping my ass with both hands. He grunted lowly.

Afterward, he was tender, carrying me gently to the upstairs bathroom. The heat of his body against my sore muscles was comforting, and I rested my head against his shoulder.

In the bathroom, I stood before him. Mason gently lifted my top over my head, my scars now exposed. I tried to push away the self-consciousness that threatened to consume me.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmured.

Together, we stepped into the shower. The warm water from the waterfall showerhead washed over us, rinsing away the sweat from the past hour. I leaned into his touch, savoring the feel of his strong arms around me. His hands traced patterns on my skin, making me shiver.

***

The next morning, I sat in the garden, watching Penelope as she frolicked on the sun-dappled lawn. Her tiny figure, clad in a frilly pink dress, darted from one spot to another with boundless energy. At the tender age of four, she was a master of imaginative play, bringing her dolls to life.

I watched with a smile as she meticulously dressed her dolls in miniature outfits, her fingers nimble and precise. She would then feed them imaginary meals from her toy set, her face filled with concentration and care.

It was heartwarming to see her natural instincts at play, a glimpse into the nurturing mother she would one day become.

I felt a presence behind me and looked up, my heart fluttering. Mason was standing beside me, a picture of elegance in one of his signature Armani suits. The tailored fit of the suit highlighted his broad shoulders and lean physique, and his dark hair was styled flawlessly.

His hand, strong and warm, extended a crystal glass filled with rich, iced coffee. The condensation on the glass sparkled in the morning sunlight, and the scent of freshly brewed coffee wafted in the air.

“For me?” I asked, accepting the glass from him. Our fingers brushed, stirring memories of last night. Memories of his touch. “Thank you.”

Mason took a seat on the garden chair next to me, his muscles straining against the fabric of his suit. We sat in silence for a moment, watching Penelope as she played on the lawn. The morning sun cast long, dancing shadows, creating a serene atmosphere.

“You were tossing and turning quite a bit last night,” Mason said, glancing at me. “It seemed like you were having a nightmare or something.”

His words surprised me, especially since I didn’t remember having a nightmare.

“Oh, really? I don’t remember having a nightmare. I slept just fine,” I said.

“It seemed pretty intense, Jamie,” he continued. “You were saying some things, and by the sounds of it, you were trying to get away from someone.”

Mason rubbed his forehead in confusion. “I wasn’t too rough with you last night, was I?” he asked.

“No way!” I shot back, a little too quickly. I had a blast last night, and I thought I made that clear to him. I mean, I’ve never really had rough sex before, at least not that I can remember. But last night with Mason was something else.

“What did I say again?” I asked, trying to recall.

Mason let out a sigh. “You were saying something like… ‘No! Don’t touch me… Get away from me.’”

I took a moment to process this, my mind spinning. Given the nightmares I’d had, I supposed the words weren’t completely out of the blue. I hadn’t shared my dreams with Mason. It was a tough subject to broach, especially with him.

But the words I said—it was no wonder he thought they were about him. We’d had sex a few times, but it wasn’t until last night that things got a little rough. Last night, he was in charge.

“Wow!” I responded quietly. “I don’t remember that at all… But I guess that’s a good thing. Who wants to remember their nightmares?”

Mason nodded slowly, his gaze lost in the distance. “Maybe it has something to do with Carmen coming by yesterday. If you both talked about what happened the night before her wedding, maybe a memory was triggered.”

I frowned, puzzled. “I didn’t tell you that Carmen came by.”

“I know… Ezra did. It’s his job to inform me of everyone entering and leaving the house.” His gaze shifted back to me. “So do you want to talk about Carmen?”

I managed a smile, my mind still in overdrive. “There’s nothing to tell. Now that I’ve had a talk with her, it’s easier to get past something that I can’t remember.”

Mason nodded, his expression thoughtful. “Makes sense.” He paused for a moment, then rose from his chair. “I should get going. I have a lunch meeting in an hour.”

“Okay.” I smiled at him. “You’re going to give me a kiss goodbye, right?” I asked teasingly.

A playful smirk spread across his face. “Of course.” He placed his arms on either side of my chair, trapping me in as he leaned in slowly.

I closed my eyes as his lips brushed against mine, so soft and tender. As he pulled away, I felt a warm glow spreading through me. His eyes held a tenderness that was only visible to the closest people to him.

I leaned in slightly, and he responded with a gentle, lingering kiss. When he finally pulled away, his eyes were filled with a warmth that mirrored the feeling in my chest.

“I’ll see you later,” he said, his voice low and husky.

I nodded, a smile playing on my lips. “Can’t wait.”

Penelope was sprawled at the dining table, her iPad propped up in front of her. She was engrossed in a cartoon, her tiny fingers tapping away at the screen. A half-eaten sandwich sat on a plate beside her.

Mason wasn’t a fan of excessive screen time, and neither was I. However, an hour a day couldn’t hurt, especially for a child that loved cartoons as much as Penelope did.

“Bluey!” Penelope squealed excitedly, her eyes wide with delight. “I like this one the best!”

I smiled, amused by her enthusiasm. “Great… Me too. I’ll be back in a moment, P. I just need to grab something from the room, okay?” She nodded.

I stood up and headed for the hallway, leaving Penelope to her cartoon. As I walked away, I could hear her giggling and singing along to the show. I unlocked the door to Mason’s office, with his key that I found on the rack this morning.

I opened the door and walked inside. The room was sleek and impeccably clean, the blinds drawn to create a dim, intimate atmosphere. It was a stark contrast to the bright, cheerful living areas of the house.

I walked toward his desk, still unsure what I was even looking for. I’d been in here twice before. The first time I found the file with the photo inside, the second time the file had disappeared.

Both times I had come up empty handed. On the surface of his desk was a mountain of papers and files, set down beside his laptop and monitor screen. They were all work related, which didn’t surprise me. Mason liked to work late at night.

I opened one of the drawers and peered inside. It was filled with some papers, as well as a few pens and a stapler. I closed the drawer and moved to the next one, but it was the same as the last.

“Mom.” I heard Penelope’s voice call me from the kitchen.

“I’m on my way!” I hollered. Swiftly, I shuffled the papers on the desk back into their original order, ensuring they were just as I’d discovered them.

Then, I spun around and exited the room, pulling the door shut behind me.

It was clear the file was no longer in the office, but I held onto the hope that I’d stumble upon something—anything—that would shed light on the identity of the mysterious dark-haired man from the file.

“This man, whoever he is, has taken up residence in my dreams,” I whispered to myself.

“I’m not sure if it’s because of what Adam suggested earlier—that my subconscious is weaving a narrative around this stranger.”

Or maybe, just maybe, there was more to it than that!