Full Court Press (3 page)

The
re was a room filled with light that shone on the back of his body. Mason turned his back on me. He disappeared into the room with the bright light without breathing another word to me.

I wasn’t sure what that meant. Did it mean the conversation was over? Was I being dismissed?
Oh Mason and his moods.

I followed him into
the back room and it was set up like a studio apartment. There was a TV, a bed, a small couch and a college sized refrigerator with a microwave on top of it.

Mason put the gun on the small end table by the couch that was more like a loveseat. He plopped down on the loveseat and stared at the TV
screen.

In this fluorescent light I could really see him.
I surely didn’t like what I was seeing. He was ignoring me. He was acting like I was some meaningless stranger that held no prior importance in his life.

I was kind of pissed
and a little hurt. I went to all this trouble and this is what I get. I felt disrespected. He must’ve flipped his wig if he thought that I was going to stand for that. I put my hands on my hips, took a deep breath and stopped myself from cussing him out.

His sister
said he was a mess. Mason was acting out. He was hurting and I had to reach him in spite of my hurt feelings.

“Mason.” I called out and he glared at me. “What’s up with your face?”

He hunched. “What?” He rubbed his chin and raked the hair on it with his nails.

“You have a full beard. Are you trying to be a lumberjack? Are you allergic to razors?”

“I’m trying something new… Why are you here?”

“
Do I need an invitation?”

“Maybe.” He smirked without even looking at me.

Was he serious? “
Do I have to RSVP?”

“No, you can do whatever you like, sweetheart.” His sweetheart was laced with sarcasm and equal bits contempt.
Who the hell is this jerk? This jerk that is still sexy with that fucking bush on his face.

“I want to be here with you. I want to talk to you.
I need to talk to you.”

Mason looked
at me and then back at the TV. “You can talk. I may not listen but you can talk.” He gave me a scowl and an eyebrow raise. Mason was a man of many faces and I remember all of them, especially the one he make’s when I have his massive dick deep in my mouth. STOP!

I took a seat next to Mason on the loveseat. There was just enough room for
the two of us. I tried to stay in my small section. I held my legs close together mainly because Mason’s legs were spread so far apart. I was trying to keep my eyes above his waist but his legs were so wide and he was wearing these thin gray nylon shorts. I love the color gray on men, especially on Mason. I didn’t want to see the bulge in his shorts but it was too late. I think he didn’t see me look. His eyes were on the TV screen. I’m safe.

He was straight up ignoring me. I looked at the TV. He was watching
Game of Thrones
on HBO. I smiled inside. We watched it before together. He was the one who turned me on to the show. Now I watched it with Jack. No matter how I tried to erase the past somehow it was as clear as the present.

Mason was really playing me crazy. Well damn!
I will not be ignored. “Coach Rizza, King of the North.” I whispered to Mason and caught his attention. He smirked. “Turn the TV off. I want to talk to you, now.”

Mason grabbed the remote control off the table and the screen was black before I could roll my eyes.
He is listening, good.

“Yes Kari
Lynn.” Mason turned his body to face me. His eyes were so dark and lost. They were smoldering, pulling me in and frightening me all at once. I hated when he called me Kari Lynn. He made it sound all country bunkum-like. 

I w
as trying to keep my focus but Mason was sexy as hell in this new scruffy face and disheveled hair. His dirty blonde locks were longer, tousled and unruly. I had never seen him with this much hair.

I refrained from gawking at his
strong muscular body. He had packed on some weight and muscle and his new hulking body was incredibly sexy. His white ribbed sleeveless t-shirt fit him so snug. The fabric cupped his pecs and showed off his definition. He made a wife-beater look like high fashion. I remember Mason’s biceps being one of the things I loved about his body. Now they were here bulging on full display for me to ogle. Remember you have a boyfriend. His name is Jack Unger.

I had to say something or I was going
to get moist just looking at Mason. “So, what’s going on with you?”

He wouldn’t speak. He just glared at me with those baby blue things that got me all hot and bothered more times than I can remember.

“Helloooooo, Coach, what’s going on with you?”

“Nothing.”

Seriously? He’s playing with me and I’m not in the mood. “What’s going on? What’s wrong with you?”

“Fuck!” Mason jumped up
. He was standing and hovering over me. “Did someone send you here?”

I was quiet.

He was staring me straight on. “Yeah someone sent you. Who?” He was getting mad. He reeked of alcohol. I could smell it on him.

“What are you talking about?”
Play dumb. I got that dumb pretty girl shit down pat. It usually works for me.

“Don’t lie to me. You have never come here before and then you just show up out the blue looking all I don’t know, caring or something. Who
, the fuck, sent you here!” Mason dropped to his knees and placed his body right in between my legs. That’s not where he should be.

“What are you talking about?”

His bloodshot blue eyes where all over me.
“You can’t lie to me.” Mason grabbed both of my thighs with his hands and started squeezing me.

“Fuck! That hurts.
You fuckin’ psycho.”

“Tell me who sent you and I’ll let you go.”

I could feel his fingers pressing into my skin even with the blue jean material as a barrier. “Your sister Karen, fuck! Your sister Karen!” I cried out. The sheer pain made me say it twice.

Mason loosened his grip on my thighs a
nd he started to massage the area where he was holding me tightly. Rubbing my thighs was a no-no. It was too close to my hot spot.

“Mason, get your hands off me.” I was tempted to slap him but he threw his hands up in the air and stood. He walked over to the bed and took a seat.

“Karen sent you here?” He spoke it in disbelief. “How do you know my sister?” I could see he was trying to piece it all together.

“Your sister
showed up at my house. She expressed concern for your mental well-being. I really didn’t believe she had much to worry about. I had to come see for myself. Now I get it. You look like a hobo.”

“You said I look like a lumberjack.”

“Lumberjack, hobo, wolverine, whatever.”

“Yeah, whatever.” He mumbled.

“The Mason I knew was stronger than this.” Reverse psychology, will this work?

“Fuck you, you don’t know me.”
He came back over to me and flopped back down on the loveseat.

“You’re right. I don’t know this tore up from the floor up Mason. The Mason I knew would never be stuck in this office hiding from the world
drinking like a fish.”

“The Mason you knew is gone, dead, buried.”

“I refuse to believe that.”

“It’s the truth.”
He chuckled even though there was nothing funny.

“So what now? You going to just sit around here and drink yourself to death?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never done that before. It sounds like fun.”

“Well Coach
Smarty-pants why don’t you go out and buy some heroin and kick this party up a notch.”

“Good idea.” He was really being a drunk-ass.

“What can I do? Tell me what I can do for you. It hurts me to see you this way. What can I do to help you?”

“Your hair is long again.” He was avoiding my question.

“It’s called weave. Black women have been rocking this shit for years. Touch it and die.”

Mason raised an eyebrow. “I can die.”

“Would you please stop it? Seriously you’re drinking when your mother was killed by a--”

“SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP!” Mason quickly stood and stopped the rest of my words before they spilled out.

“Okay, psycho, chill it the fuck out.”

“I’m chill.”

“You are so far from chill.”

“
You really want to help me?”

“Yeah, Mason of course
I want to help you.”

“Can you bring my mother back?”

“You know that I can’t.”

Mason shrugged. “Well you can’t help.”
There were minutes of silence, gawking and more silence.

“Kari
, take off your boots.”

“Why?”
I frowned.

“Do it! Slowly
, take off your boots.”

“Mason, really?”

“If you want to help me, unzip the boots, take off the jacket, the shirt, the jeans. Do it. That would help me. Don’t play with me. You know what I want.” Shit. His eyes were giving me sunburn.

“Mason that’s not why I’m here.”

“Does it look like a give a shit? Don’t make me come over there. You have two options. Take your clothes off or get the fuck out. No fuck that! Just take your clothes off.”

Motherfucker!!! I couldn’t move. I was super
-glued in my tiny spot on the loveseat. I wanted to storm out of there and slam his front door so hard the glass shattered. Get up Kari. I keep trying to convince myself to leave but my pussy was throbbing with an ache that only could be quenched with one man’s dick.

I was trying so hard to deny I wanted this new Mason.
My body wanted to try this new scruffy, sad, intoxicated and vulgar version of Mason. This asshole was sexy. My heart was still beating fast from having the gun pointed at me. I had never come down from that distinctive fear factor. I was still a little high in my new surroundings.

Being around this fool made me question my sanity. So why was I always coming back for more of Mason’s unique brand of tortu
re?

“Mason I came here to talk.” I had mustered up some boldness. I was going to stand my ground. I wasn’t going to give my pussy up.
Well not without a fight. I think I can take his drunk-ass. I’m in a relationship with Jack. Mason has got to understand that.

Mason laughed at me. “You
came here to talk. You can let your caramel pussy talk to my vanilla cock. Take your shit off. I’m not going to say it again.”

Oh God!
I could run for the door and probably make it out before he could catch me. This was a bad idea, coming here and trying to talk to this drunk-ass fool.

“Mason--”

“No, no, no more words! If you say another word I will
gag you with my cock. I swear I will put you on your knees and choke you with my cock.”

Really?
I couldn’t breathe. Why does his macho bullshit turn me on? Why are his threats so enticing? Why do I want to get naked? I stood up on my insecure feet. I was going to try to make a run for it. I think. My eyes jetted back and forth to the door.

“Kari really? Are you go
ing to try to run away from me?” Damn he read my mind. “It’s dark in the office. You might just trip over some shit and hurt yourself. I could drink five gallons of vodka and still beat you to that door.”

I looked over at the door and somehow I knew Mason was right. He would catch me.

I dropped my butt right back down on the small loveseat and started unzipping my tall black leather boots. I should have worn gym shoes instead of these heeled boots. I removed one boot and hurled it across the room directly at Mason’s head. He ducked just in time. Good reflexes for a drunk. I removed the other boot and hurled it at his torso. He didn’t move. He let the boot bounce off his abs.

“You can’t hurt me more than I already hurt.”

Oh Shit! He is really hurting. I can hear it in his voice. I can see it in his eyes.

“Kari, I’m so tired of being on my own. This pressure is too much. I’m so lonely.”

I unzipped my jacket and placed it on the couch. I unbuttoned my blouse and slipped it off my shoulders and down my arms. I discarded it on top of my jacket. I was standing in front of him in a bright yellow Victoria Secret bra. Mason never blinked or moved toward me. He just stood there, lifeless but breathing.

I could see the
intense pain in his eyes and I would do anything to relieve his suffering. His pain was my pain and it hurt to see him in this state. My actual heart was aching. All I wanted was to make him feel better.

My Levis were so tight I had to peel them off my body.
I had gained seven pounds this winter and it all went to my ass. When I did get out the jeans I just stood there in front of him in my yellow bra and yellow thong. His dick was hard and pressing against the seam in his shorts. It was just like old times minus the excessive alcohol consumption.