Page 14 of Rival for Rent
So why couldn’t I get him out of my head?
It was too strange, the way I kept seeing his face from tonight—those wide, worried blue eyes, that steady hand reaching out to help me up. Since when did Mason Clark care about me? Since when did he care about anyone?
Jesus. I never should’ve called Heartbreakers to ask for a bodyguard. I should’ve gone with a real security firm. Or just dealt with things on my own. At worst, I could have faked my own death and started over in Iceland. New identity. Fuzzy sweaters. Presumably fewer opportunities for stabbing.
But if Mason was right, then someone had tried to hurt me tonight.
Whether they’d meant to cause serious damage and missed, or just meant to scare me, I didn’t know. It had all happened so fast—in the crush of people in the theater lobby. Everyone was moving towards the exits. The person who did it had probably slipped away into the crowd, unnoticed.
I shivered. My knees suddenly felt unsteady, even though I was sitting down. Who would do this? Who hated me so much that they wanted me injured—or worse?
I hadn’t done anything to deserve that. I’d worked hard to build something that mattered. My whole motivation for developing the new phone battery—the one powering seventy percent of smartphones now—had been to create something that didn’t rely on rare-earth mining. I’d made sure my company operated as ethically as possible. We tracked our carbon footprint. We prioritized diversity and sustainability. I’d tried to do good in the world.
But I knew this wasn’t about my company. It was about the Butterfly Center. Someone didn’t want it to open. A homophobe, a transphobe, or just some hateful troll who couldn’t stand the idea of a space like that existing.
And if they thought this would scare me into quitting, they clearly didn’t know me very well.
That centerwouldopen. On time. Only slightly over budget. Tonight’s show had been important, not just for optics but for funding. The Michaelsons were generous donors. I’d hoped to secure their backing for a sizable chunk of the center’s operating costs.
What a fucking night.
I let my arm fall down to my waist. Bella snorted and curled up more comfortably on the rug beside me.
I felt jittery, exhausted, and something else I couldn’t quite name. An emotion I didn’t have a label for. When I closed my eyes, all I saw was Mason’s face.
“Go away, Mason,” I muttered to myself.
But his intense blue eyes kept staring back at me.
I wished I’d done a better job with him tonight. Sticking to my guns and not getting sucked into arguments. Sure, he’d helped me at the theater, but that didn’t mean I owed him anything. Not with the past we had.
If anything, Mason owed me. My cock stirred at the thought, traitorous though it was. When I’d fantasized about running into him again as an adult, I hadn’t counted on the guy getting even more attractive.
I smiled, picturing telling how he could actually have helped me tonight. I didn’t want him toguardmy body, but I could definitely use a different kind of service.
“If you really feel like you should have kept me safe,” I imagined saying, “I can think of a way you can make it up to me.”
In spite of myself, I unzipped my tuxedo pants and slid a hand underneath the waistband of my briefs. Fuck, I was hard. I took myself in hand and imagined Mason on the couch with me right now, his large, hard body covering mine.
Emergency protocol: when life gives you trauma, jerk off about it.
I freed my hand to spit in it, then brought it back to my cock, picturing Mason sliding down the couch to suck me off.
“I’ve never done this before,” he’d say, and for oncehewould be the one looking unsure, feeling awkward.
“Let me teach you,” I said. “Start with your tongue.”
I lost myself in the fantasy of Mason, the flustered football god, licking the head of my cock, then sliding his lips over it and taking it into his mouth. Mason fucking Clark with another man’s cock in his mouth.
I was the first person to argue that sucking cock didn’t make youless thananyone, but God, the idea of humbling him a bit? Putting him in his place by putting my dick in his mouth? Fuck, that was good.
I’d make him work for it, make him sink all the way down over my shaft. My cock might not be the longest in the world, but it was thick, and I wanted to see him swallow it down. Wanted to see drool and spit leak from the corners of his mouth. Wantedto see him desperate and needy as I slipped my fingers through that delightfully long hair of his and pushed him down even further.
Fuck, yes, that was what I wanted. His lips and tongue and throat pressed into service, bringing me to completion. My orgasm built as I imagined him whimpering around my cock, begging me for my cum. I stroked myself faster, feeling heat and tension building deep inside, then rolling outward.
“Suck that cock,” I groaned, and came into my hand. I pictured Mason’s face, eyes lust-shot and adoring, swallowing down ropes of my cum, pleading for more. Pictured him milking out every drop.
Thatwas the only thing I wanted from him. That was the only apology I was looking for. If further interaction with the man didn’t come in the form of the blowjob, I wanted no part of it.
