“I’m sorry.” I lightly dragged my fingers over the back of his hand.
“Don’t be. Never apologize for things that aren’t your fault.” The command in his tone annoyed me and warmed me at the same time. I wanted to ask him for more specifics about what happened, to hold him even, but I did neither. The steady discipline in his eyes when he chastised me about my unnecessary apology made heat flame through me followed by a trickle of guilt over my ridiculous reaction.Jesus, Claire. He just told you his mom died.
“You must have parents,”
I nearly chuckled at the obvious attempt at deflection. “I didn’t hatch out of an egg, no.” A touch of humor replaced the pain hiding in his eyes. He just stared, waiting for me to go on, “There isn’t much to tell. I never met my dad. Well, not since I was a baby, and I don’t remember him. My mom and I aren’t close, and I have no siblings as far as I can tell. Although, my father may have had more children but I wouldn’t know.”
“Why aren’t you and your mom close?” he cupped my hands in his.
“We’re very different people.” The practiced line fell easily from my lips, but he clearly didn’t buy it. He didn’t ask me anymore, and neither did I ask him. We both needed our secrets. He took me back to the library, walked me to the door, and gifted me one brief kiss. He asked if he could see me that night, and when he saw the stress on my face, he told me later in the week would be fine.
I spent the entire next day distracted by the idea he might show up again and have his wicked way with me in my office, or take me to lunch and tell me more about himself while I got to drink him in and grow more enchanted. When the day ended and I walked back to my apartment, the sadness plaguing me made no sense. I was into him. I wanted him in inexplicable ways, but the aching in my chest seemed like an inappropriate response.
I sat down at my desk and dove into the massive amount of work that still needed doing. My hand sat cramped and useless at my side as I took in the darkened sky outside of my apartment. I didn’t even notice the sun setting. My phone buzzed with an incoming text, and my heart leaped into my throat.
Mason: Boss Lady, do you think you'll have any time for this, this week?
The picture of his erection attached to the message had my pussy quaking in hollow misery. I closed my eyes and bit my lip as the delicious tightening pulsed through me. I didn’t have time. The pile of paperwork I took home would take up most of my nights this week, but the ache in my chest told me my priorities were completely screwed up, and I needed to make space for him too.
I stared at the picture for far too long. His hand was wrapped firmly around his impressive cock. The scars that marred his knuckles added depth that made me wonder how a lawyer scarred his fists. Imagining him stroking himself left me desperate and needy. The board could double my salary and it wouldn’t be enough to make me focus on the work I needed to do. I was just a woman, and he was the pinnacle of everything I desired. I wrenched myself out of my daydream, needing to answer him and work out some of this tension or I really might lose my job.
Claire: Things are going well at work. This Friday night would be perfect for me.
I laughed at my too casual response to his picture.
Mason: Friday works for me, don't tease me.
I imagined what his face looked like. I doubted he sent pictures of his dick often, but certainly women didn’t ignore them when he did. The thought that he waited for my response, my judgment, made me feel powerful. Part of me wanted to chase the sensation, the other decided it was time to put him out of his misery. I pulled up my skirt and shifted my panties to the side. I took a picture of my pussy spread open with a suggestive finger pressed to my clit.
Claire: Only with this, on Friday night.
His response came instantaneously.
Mason: You're too sexy for your own good. Now, tell me if you liked the picture.
The bubbling warmth in my chest burst out in a fit of giggles, but absolutely nothing was funny.
Claire: Correction, I'm too sexy for your good. You first.
Mason: It would be impossible for you to be too sexy for my good. Of course I like the hottest pussy I've ever seen, and don't get me started on the memory of you wrapped around my fingers.
I couldn’t help the stupid smile spreading across my cheeks, or the wayward fingers playing with the hottest pussy he’d ever seen. He probably lied to me, but the flattery lifted my spirits anyway.
Claire: Thank you, Mason. I can't lie, that cock is incredible, and don't get me started on the feel of you pressed against my ass.
Mason: I'm glad you like it. Sleep tight, Claire.
My fingers kept up their steady rhythm on my clit, but it was so much more satisfying when he knew.
Claire: Good Night, Mason. I'm making myself cum thinking of you.
I slipped two of my fingers into myself and worked my G-spot and clit. The way he pressed me against my door and kissed me that first night, the way he held me against my desk and brought me to the peak of pleasure, danced behind my eyelids. It was too easy to imagine him fucking me in various positions, holding me down, tying me up. My need for him and my desperation to please him were more animal than human.
I imagined him holding me against a wall. His muscles rippled as his cock slammed relentlessly into me. His teeth bit into the soft skin of my neck, possessive and rough. I tried to keep quiet while I masturbated, but this time I had no chance. I cried out as my orgasm racked me. God, if the simple thought of him gave me this much pleasure, I wasn’t sure I could take it when I got to have him.Thud, Thud, Thud.My downstairs neighbor whacked a broom into his ceiling letting me know how unimpressed he was with my theatrics. I giggled to myself, feeling only a little embarrassed.
After the chemicals from the orgasm wore off, an empty sense of doubt filled me. It wasn’t entirely unusual for me to feel low after reaching an incredible high. Sam used to tell me how disappointing it was for him that I would get sad after sex like he let me down and I blamed him for it. It aggravated the situation that I didn’t always have that reaction. So, when I did it was especially damaging to his ego.How could it not be about me, Claire?his angry words echoed through my mind.
Affection usually made me feel better, but I learned to hide those feelings when they struck, and never asked to be comforted.If you enjoyed having sex with me, why would I need to comfort you?The doubts Sam planted in me were deeply rooted. I wanted to talk to Mason, and I knew he would take my call, but we were not established. I couldn’t put all this baggage on him. It wasn’t his job to care for me.
I typed Mason Harris into a search engine, just needing to see his face. None of the pictures he sent me had the part I needed most. Tons of results came up. None of them were my Mason, and I scoffed at myself for thinking of him as mine. I included our city in the parameters, and still, he didn’t appear.Did he give me a fake name?
Alarm bells rang loudly against my skull. What if he was married or in a committed relationship? There weren’t many good reasons I could think of to give someone a fake name. I flipped through about fifty results, realizing the name was more popular than I thought. I gave up and went to bed, trying to convince myself it would be easier to find him in the morning. The sense of dread settled into my stomach, finding an easy, comfortable home.