The Pulse (29 page)

His cock pressed insistently against her inner thigh, nudging her, and she held it in her palm, pressing it against her clitoris. Rising up with her thighs, her movements caused his cock to rub her in exactly the right place.

He groaned and grabbed her hips, helping her rise and lower herself, his cock still not inside her pussy, sliding up and down across her slick folds, swelling her clit until she felt she’d explode if he didn’t fuck her soon.

“Please,” she begged, and he slid inside her aching cunt, filling her completely. She rocked back and forth, letting his cock hit her G-spot over and over again. “More, I need more.”

He grabbed hold of her hips, his fingertips digging into her skin. Lifting her up until he almost popped out of her pussy, he then slammed her back down again, thrust into her to the hilt. She gasped as he did it again.

“You like that?” he asked, his cock twitching inside her.

“I love it,” she said, and she felt him freeze again.

“What?” he asked quietly, as if he hadn’t heard her.

“I said, I love your cock,” she repeated.

“Oh.” He didn’t say anything further.

He probably thought I said I love you
, she realized.

Gyrating her hips, she reached around to her side and peeled his fingers from her waist, thrusting his hand down between their bodies. “Touch me,” she whispered.

He rubbed her clit, flicking it repeatedly as she rocked, throwing her head back in ecstasy. If all they had was this moment, then that’s what she would take. Tomorrow would take care of tomorrow. Pleasure coursed through her as the orgasm hit her full force, her pussy clenching down on his cock.

Mason groaned and bucked his hips up to meet hers, thrusting harder, coming deep inside her, filling her with the hot jet of his ejaculation.

He hugged her close, his heart beating so hard she could feel the thud against her breast. She didn’t want the embrace to end, but she knew it had to eventually. If she stayed in his arms too long he wouldn’t be able to believe her when she said she just wanted to be with him in the moment, and her saying that seemed to be the only thing that brightened his mood that evening.

Was she so awful to imagine being with, being together? Mason lay down on his back, staring up at her as she straddled his hips. She smiled down at him.

“You’re so beautiful,” he said. He stared so long at her she felt herself blushing, becoming uncomfortable under his direct gaze. She looked away, into the dancing flames of the fire, rather than see him watch her so closely.

“No,” he whispered. “Look at me.”

It took every ounce of willpower she had to turn back to him, to see him watching her.

“Emily,” he said, sliding his hand once more between her thighs, his thumb coming to rest on her clit.

She nodded, already squirming against his thumb, the delectable pressure building within her immediately. He groaned as her movements rubbed against his cock, but he continued, circling her clit slowly with his fingers, teasing her with alternating fast and slow rhythms.

“I love watching you come,” he said, and she felt the wave of another climax start to fall over her, the blood rushing in her ears, pounding throughout her body in time with her quickened pulse as he positioned his cock at her entrance once more and thrust inside her.

She gasped as he hit her G-spot and came, a gush of cream spilling over his cock, drenching the brown curls of his pubic hair. He sat up suddenly, pushing her onto her back so he lay on top of her, and kissed her deeply as he thrust inside her, pounding into her. Wrapping her legs around his waist, she held on for the ride, never wanting it to end.

His earlier orgasm had increased his staying power, and Emily grinned when he slid out of her and rolled her onto her stomach. Her nipples pressed against the grass, the blades of grass tickling her breasts as he fucked her from behind.

Mason wrapped one arm around her waist so he could finger her clit while he fucked her, and she wiggled in his grasp, enjoying the overstimulation even as she thought she might die from the sensations building within her, threatening to overwhelm her senses.

He grunted, thrusting faster, and she cried out as he came again. She gasped when she realized that just because he had finished didn’t mean he was finished with her. His fingers kept their frenetic pace on her clit, forcing her to a third orgasm that left her shaking, her entire body spasming as the aftershocks quaked through her naked body.

Mason pressed a kiss against the back of her neck, moving her hair off her shoulder. “We should get back,” he said quietly. “And get some sleep.”

“Okay.” Emily accepted his hand as he helped her up, and they both dressed in silence, the only sound the crackling of the twigs in the fire. She helped him douse the fire before they started walking back to Luke and Melissa’s house.

“You like it here, don’t you?” Mason asked.

“I do,” she admitted. “I forgot what it was like to eat well every day when I was at Grand Central. And it’s nice to have my work, even if I overdo it sometimes.”

“You need to be careful about that,” Mason said.

“About what?”

Mason took her hand in his and stared into her eyes. “Promise me you won’t work yourself to death. Don’t let that happen. Don’t let them take advantage of you. They got along fine without you before, remember that. When you need a break or you need rest, the only one who’s going to make sure that happens is you. Set the precedent now, you know what I mean?”

“I see what you’re saying,” Emily said, shaking her head. “But it’s irrelevant anyway since we have to leave tomorrow, right?”

“I can’t always be looking out for you.”

Emily cringed at his words. The things she said scared him away, she could tell. He obviously wasn’t interested in being with her like that, and her comments, in that scenario, were just awkward. “I know,” she whispered.

He grabbed her in a bear hug, nearly crushing her with the intensity of his embrace. “I—I’ve grown to really…” He paused, then shook his head. “I care about you, that’s all.”

She nodded, unsure what that meant. “Thank you,” she whispered back.

That night they fell asleep in each other’s arms.

In the morning, he was gone.

EMILY
woke up at daybreak, alone. She sat up, rubbing the sleep from her eyes, and looked around the small room. Mason wasn’t there.

Slipping on her jeans and tattered sneakers, she stepped out into the early morning air and headed toward the outhouse. She didn’t find him on the way there, either. Had he gone out for a walk? It wasn’t something he normally did.

She headed back toward Luke and Melissa’s house. She could see through the open drapes that Melissa was up with the baby, walking around the living room with the baby over her shoulder. She hadn’t had any health problems since that first night when Emily came to help, thank goodness.

“Emily.”

Emily turned in surprise at the deep male voice behind her. It was the man from church. Brad.

“Good morning,” she said, her voice sounding unnatural to her ears. “I was just heading back to the house.” He didn’t seem like the type of man she had to be worried about attacking her, but her time at Grand Central had taught her never to assume what type of person anyone was.

Brad reached his hand out to stop her and her heart fell into her stomach. She felt faint. Was he going to hurt her? Rape her? Her knees trembled and Brad took his hand off her arm.

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” he apologized. “I’m here about Mason.”

Oh no no no.
“Is he okay?” she asked. “Is Mason hurt?” Horrible scenarios flitted through her head. What if Mason had gone out for a morning swim, gotten a cramp, and drowned? What if he tried to help somebody lift something and got crushed? A low moan escaped her lips.

“Mason’s okay,” Brad said. “He left this morning.”

“What do you mean, left?”

“He left, Emily. I’m sorry.”

That couldn’t be right. Where did he go? Where could he have gone? And why, why would he leave her?

Brad handed her a folded piece of paper. It was tattered, since the only paper available was made before the Pulse. No one had taken the time to make new paper the old-fashioned way. He had written on the back of one of those value-pack coupons that used to come in the mail, and often went straight into her garbage.

Dear Emily,

I know you’re probably pissed off at me for leaving. I had to go. You’ll be fine here. There’s food and shelter and a life I can’t give you. Stay where you are, where you’ll be safe. I don’t want you coming with me if it means you’ll be in danger.

Brad’s a good guy. He’ll take care of you. As much as I hate to see you with another man, if he says he’ll marry you then do it. It’s for the best.

Love,

Christopher Mason

Emily had to
read the note three times before she finally sat down on the ground. He had written the word Love and then crossed it out, scribbling over the word like it had been a mistake. Must have been, for him to leave her. For him to tell her to marry Brad, a perfect stranger. She looked up at Brad, suspicion forming in her mind.

“How do I know he wrote this?” she asked.

“I admit, I read it,” Brad said. “I know it was meant for your eyes but I had it in my possession all night, so… But I don’t know if he said anything in there I wouldn’t have known. I do know that he asked me, before he left, if I would take care of you. And I said yes.” He looked at the ground as if he were embarrassed.

“I see,” she said quietly. “You guys never thought to include me in this discussion about who I should live with?”

Brad looked positively mortified. “I told him you wouldn’t go for it. That we can’t just arrange a marriage like it was the olden days or something. It’s America, I told him that.”

Emily shook her head, furious. “I can’t believe that asshole,” she muttered. “Leaving me here.”

“May I?” Brad took the letter from her. He pointed to Mason’s words. “He only left because he cares. He wants you to be safe and fed.” He lifted her chin with his large hand, looking down into her eyes. “I like you, Emily. And I’d like to get to know you better, if you’ll let me.”

She pulled away from his kind eyes. “No, I won’t let you. I don’t want anyone but Mason. But he…” She broke off in a sob. “He obviously doesn’t want me. Because he left.” Tears ran down her cheeks, and she made no attempt to stop crying. She felt she might never stop crying, ever again.

Brad looked uncomfortable, but he handed her a handkerchief. She took it, blowing her nose noisily. “I scared him away,” she said, dabbing at her face.

She should have known something was up, last night when he acted so distant. When he told her they weren’t together. Of course. He was breaking up with her, giving her one last pity fuck before he walked out forever.

Well, fuck him.

No. She sobbed again, not caring what Brad thought of her display of emotion. Mason had left her because he could live without her, and she could live without him—she’d grown as a person and become more self-reliant since she’d met him. She didn’t need to be with him but she
wanted
to be with him—and that was the difference.

What could she do now? He was gone. It wasn’t like she could call his cell, tell him off for leaving her without even talking to her. Why had he done that?

Probably because he didn’t want to give her a chance to convince him to take her with him. But it wasn’t fair—if he truly did care about her, then he should let her make her own decisions. Unless he left because he was sick of her, tired of protecting her, and this was his one chance to be done with her without feeling guilty.

Well, if that was the case then he had to tell her to her face. Because if Mason thought he could hand her off to some random guy then he was dead wrong. It didn’t matter that Brad happened to be a nice, handsome guy who could probably do a good job of looking after her. She didn’t need looking after… not anymore. What she needed—no, what she wanted—was him. She wanted Mason, because she loved him.

The thought stopped her cold.

I love Mason.

She loved his fierce independent streak. She loved his survival skills that enabled him to survive on his own in New York City. She loved that he cared enough about his sister getting justice that he killed her attacker—and that he killed to protect Emily too.

Things that would have terrified the old Emily—the pre-Pulse Emily—were now the very things that made Mason exactly the sort of man she wanted to spend the rest of her life with. She loved how his touch made her body come alive, how he made her climax over and over again, how he made her feel soft and feminine even when she was dirty and unkempt.