the bed. Laying Whit down I quickly pull my clothes off. I reach for a condom and roll it on quickly. Climbing between her soaked thighs I line up my cock and slam in. Whit arches under me and screams my name. I lift her hips in my hands and pound into her.
“You like bein’ shot at? Huh?” I fuck her roughly. Her tits bounce in her little shirt as I keep pounding her. “You get all worked up over a girl? Fuck Whit. What the fuck are you tryin’ to do to me?”
She can’t answer with me being this deep inside of her. With each roll of my hips she raises hers to meet me, thrust for thrust. It’s as if she can’t get me deep enough inside of her. And good god, I want to be deeper. I’m drowning in a girl I barely know. A girl that sacrificed herself to help my club. A girl that knows no fucking boundaries, but somehow continues to test mine.
“Mason. Harder. Fuck me harder,” Whit demands.
I pull out and grab her waist and flip her onto her stomach. Lifting her hips in my hands I plunge into her again. She thinks she wants me harder? I’ll give her harder. Thrust after thrust my balls slap against her. The sound of skin hitting skin sends chills up my spine. I don’t know what’s happening to me, but I know I want more of it.
With each new sensation brings a new fear. I can’t let myself get involved with her in any way other than just sex. I can’t be the reason she tries to kill herself again. As much as I’d love to be the one to bring her back to herself, I don’t know that I can. Whitley is too far gone. She’s already proved that the day she snorted an eight ball and died in a hotel bathroom. She’s proven it by cutting off all her hair and trying to be someone she’s not.
Yet, in the back of my mind, I like to think there’s something more going on between us. Like there’s some untold story that we need to write and fuck me, god do I really want to write it. I want to make every fucking dream of hers come true, yet I don’t even know if she has any dreams. In my own fucked up head, I’d like to think we are saving each other, but in reality, we are probably tearing each other apart.
Chapter 18
Whitley
I stretch out and let my arms fall above my head. My body aches in the most delicious way. It’s been three weeks of fucking and hanging out with Mason. It’s weird, but I actually enjoy being around him. I roll my head to the side and see Tink sound asleep. I grin remembering what happened last night. Mason let me have free rein with her; to do whatever the hell I wanted. He was there, watching, and just as turned on as I was. He didn’t want to fuck her though. He only wanted me. His dirty words make me feel even hotter. The way he touches me; the way he kisses me. I can’t seem to get enough of him.
My cell rings on the table next to the bed. Rolling over, I grab it to answer.
“Hey sexy!”
“You with Mr. Fuck me like a Goddess again?” Jackson asks his tone slightly pissed. He doesn’t like that I’m spending so much time at Mason’s club.
“Maybe. Why you miss me?”
“I always miss you Whit. Hey, I have a problem. The warehouse fired me, said they didn’t have enough work. I don’t know how I’m going to make the rent this month,” he says as his voice turns sad. I blow out a breath and run my hand through my tangled hair.
“It’ll be fine. I’ll work extra shifts at Joe’s. I’m sure he won’t mind.”
“I don’t want you covering for me Whit. I’m going down to Charlie’s to see if he’ll let me work a few days in the garage.” I sigh and lean against the headboard. Tink rolls over with a smile on her face. She stretches and climbs out of bed waving goodbye to me. I wiggle my fingers back at her.
“It’s really not that big of a deal Jackson. We’ll work it out, we always do.” I tell him. The money Mason left for me at the hospital went to an orphanage. I didn’t want it. Especially after what happened with