Page 134 of Please Open Me
My pulse kicked, heat rushing up my neck. I wanted to kiss her. God, I wanted to kiss her so bad it hurt. But if I reached for her and she pulled away… I wasn’t sure I’d survive it.
“I’ve thought aboutallof you,” she clarified. “About how I’d spent the last month envisioning everyone living together, and being one big happy family.”
She looked at the ground, and despite the way my instincts told me to push her away, to rub salt in the wound that was the disintegration of her relationship, my heart was fucking stupid.
“Well, who says wecan’tbe one big, happy family?” I asked, grabbing a forkful of the fries and shoving them into my dumb ass mouth.
The potatoes were soggy and the cheese gluey. I had no idea how Mason liked these right now, but after I forced down my bite, I knew I wouldn’t be stealing anymore.
“Ican’tbring the kids around murderers, or a drug addict.”
My eyes widened at the drug addict part, but I decided to let sleeping dogs lie.
“Well, I mean, youcould.” My voice pitched up as I stared at her, my mind already running the mental gymnastics required to make everything seem safe.
And though I could already see the skepticism in her eyes, I was known to beveryconvincing with my words.
Chapter 32
Sebastian
I’d been, what I considered a virgin, for the first twenty-two years of my life. After my ‘relationship’with Alex, I didn’t want sex, I didn’t crave it, and I most certainly didn’t need it to start my mornings.
But, after living with Mason for less than a year, every day that didn’t start with sex, or at least head, felt like a waste. The longest I could go without sporting a chub was my first cigarette, and even that was pushing it.
For the last two weeks, Cameron helped fill the void, but today he’d been too on edge. Right now, he was over at Leona’s, hopefully smoothing things over. And that left me to stand in the shower, hot water pouring down my back, dick in my hand like a horny teenager. Should I be masturbating right now?
Uh, no. Absolutely not.
But I was just as nervous as Cameron, if not more so, and I needed a way to expel someenergy.
My eyes sealed shut as I leaned against the cool glass wall separating my shower from the rest of the bathroom.
I let my forehead thunk against the glass, tepid water running down my face, mixing with the sweat slicking my skin. My grip tightened, not because I was close, but because my brain wouldn’t shut the fuck up.
Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Mason. Not in a sexual way. Okay, maybe in a little bit of a sexual way, but that’s only because I was apparently into fucked up stuff. Not like anal, or sounding, or even being pissed on, that I could explain away as a baseless kink.
Instead, my arousal came from the mundane.
Waking up next to her when the morning light was still low. Kissing her when our eyes were barely open. Rubbing her shoulders while she breastfed. The sound she made when she flopped face-first onto the bed after a long day. The way Mason snorted and turned red if she laughed too hard.
My dick twitched at the idea, and I rubbed my cock a little faster, my lips parting at the all too distant memory of Mason, standing at the counter, dressedin my shirt, packing lunches for the rest of the house.
Heat rose in my chest, and I breathed slowly, begging myself to have some semblance of dignity and not cum fromthat.
Jesus Christ, why couldn’t I just be into BDSM like the rest of the house?
At least then I could explain it. Chain me up, choke me out, call me a bitch, smack my ass, call me a sub. That nice, clean label would make it so no one knew how pathetic I was.
But no. My cock twitched over the image of Mason being the domestic goddess she was. My hand sped up when I remembered the way she hummed to herself while folding laundry, and the closer I got, the more I wanted to slam my fist into the wall instead.
Because I wasn’t jerking off to sex.
I was jerking off tohome.
And, I’d ruined my home by killing hermom.
My breath came ragged as I pressed my forehead harder into the glass, my fist twisting around my cock like I could wring the guilt out of me with every stroke. Fuck, I needed therapy.
