Breaking Perfect (7 page)

“Yes!”

His hips moved faster. His strokes
were smooth, but he pressed harder as if he too was reaching to meet that inner
part of her that cried for him. “Do you feel how your body clings to mine? How,
no matter how tight, you instinctively accommodate me, your husband?”

“God, yes!”

“That’s what I am, Liberty. I’m
your husband and you’re my wife. There’s to be no shame between us.” He said
this and she heard it for the comforting vow that it was.

There had always been that unspoken
give and take between them that worked for reasons she didn’t dare examine too
carefully, but they’d never discussed it. Mason voicing what they were to each
other was comforting. His words baptized her, validated the assumptions of
their love already in her head.

“I am your wife,” she affirmed.

“
My wife!
Mine.” He pressed
deeper and the scratch of his pubic hair pressed against her newly shaven pussy
as their pelvises kissed. “Tell me who you belong to.”

“You, Mason, I belong to you!”

At her words something inside of
him broke loose. He began to fuck her in earnest. His hips pummeled into the
cradle of her thighs and she knew she would likely be sore by bedtime, but she
needed him to continue.

His thick cock stretched her in a
way it had never done before. As his thrusts gained force the hard tip of his
shaft tapped against her g-spot. With each touch her body throbbed. That inner
stimulation combined with the steady friction over her clit was maddening.

Scrape, pulse, flutter, pound, tap,
scrape, pulse, flutter, pound, tap…the crescendo built and she shouted as he
grunted with each pound of her flesh. The fluttering of her channel combined
into a little internal earthquake as her clit pulsed. Their slick bellies
glided over one another as Liberty’s gaze followed the thick cords of Mason’s
neck working with exertion.

And then he did something that
changed everything. Perhaps he didn’t even realize he did it. Perhaps he was so
lost in the incredible moment his mind surrendered to his body’s direction. He
shifted his position and with his left hand he firmly gripped her wrists above
her head. His authority and strength mentally threw her into absolute bliss and
her body shattered in a physical mirroring.

Her pussy clamped down hard on his
fat cock and hot jets of semen filled her channel. Mason roared and threw his
head back.

It wasn’t making love. It was
fucking. But to Liberty, it was one of the most beautiful, extraordinary, and
freeing moments of her life.

Mason collapsed on top of her,
careful not to crush her. He panted into her damp shoulder. As his grip
loosened on her wrists something inside of her unraveled, as if his hold had
been keeping her reality at bay and now it was coming back. All too soon she
remembered the trail of watermarks in the foyer and the scent of chlorine that
would permeate the sheets.

Mason would have to hurry to make
it to the hospital on time for his shift and she sympathized with the rush that
would taint his evening. Unnecessarily, she dreaded it for him, but he would
handle it in stride. He’d probably eat from a vending machine rather than take
the time to visit the cafeteria, so she would have to make him something
quickly while he showered.
 
That way he
could at least have a shot at something nutritious.

“I feel a gorgeous woman in my
arms, but I’m afraid her mind is somewhere else in the house,” he mumbled, lips
pressing into her hair. “Where are you? Mopping?”

She laughed with dry sarcasm.
“Ha-ha. For your information I was mentally making you a sandwich, smarty-pants.
You’re going to be late and I don’t want you to skip dinner.”

He purposefully poked her with his
softening cock still buried deep inside of her. “I won’t be late and even if I
was I wouldn’t care. One day I plan to teach you the true meaning of post-coital
bliss.”

“I know what it means,” she argued.

“Perhaps, but I’ll make it my own
personal goal in life to make you surrender to it. One day, Libby, I plan on
loving you so long and so well, you will sleep for days and never have to worry
about scattered papers or shoes dropped in perpendicular disarray rather than
properly placed in parallel perfection.” He laughed and she didn’t mind. It was
true. He knew her better than anyone. There was no use denying it.

He kissed her softly then pecked
her on the nose. She gave him a persnickety smile.

“Yes, Mrs. Davis, I believe that’s
my new goal, to one day have you kicking off your shoes at the idea of making
love to me and never looking back to where they fall.”

Chapter Three

When Mason came down the steps he
smirked at the telltale streaks of fading wetness and detected the lemony
fragrance Libby favored when it came to cleaning their home. His sneaky little
wife had somehow found the time to mop the foyer while he showered. He found
her in the kitchen folding over the top of a brown paper lunch bag. She must’ve
snuck into one of the other bathrooms to grab a quick shower.

Her hair was a halo of wild golden
curls, the way he loved it. She despised the disheveled natural state of her
ringlets, but he found the look beautiful and sexy, all the more appealing for
its rareness.

Legs clad in a short pair of old
denim cutoffs and a loose, ivory light knit sweater that hung off of one creamy
white shoulder. Her nipples poked against the material. She was braless.

She smiled at him. “Here’s your
dinner. All you’ll need to buy is a drink. Try not to get something with too
much sugar.”

“Is my birthday the cause of your
sudden concern for my health? Are you worried about my mortality?” he teased,
as he hugged her from behind and placed a kiss upon her soft exposed neck.

“I am always concerned. This is
nothing new.”

“Don’t you trust me to make good
choices?”

She laughed. “For me, yes. For
yourself, not so much. If I left it up to you, you would have the world
convinced the four food groups were coffee, candy, soda, and apple pie.”

“At least one is a fruit.” He
squeezed her, not wanting to let her go. Maybe he should retire.

“Hardly.”

“Thank you for taking such good
care of me,” he whispered against her shoulder.

She turned in his arms and looked
into his eyes. “That’s my job. I love you and I love doing it.”

“I love you, too.” He kissed her
nose and she handed him his lunch. “I’m scheduled to get off around five. So
long as there are no early morning emergencies I should be home by six.” If he
were lucky the evening would pass in a flash.

He’d worked the same shift for
years. Every week was the same. He needed to keep his routine to keep life
stable and predictable for Liberty. Unfortunately, there were those nights that
patients needed him to stay several extra hours and, as a trauma surgeon, if he
was needed he didn’t have time to call his wife and announce he would be late.
He hated those nights, knowing she worried and struggled with the change in
routine.

On nights like that he usually
returned early morning, the sound of her fingers pounding across the grand
piano greeting him from all the way in the garage. He could always tell that
Libby hadn’t slept, that she’d been awake waiting and worrying for him.

With one final kiss Mason told
Liberty he loved her and she escorted him to the door. Her mouth pressed into
his and he poured all of his gratitude and passion into the kiss, savoring the
moment as if he could carry it with him until morning. Reluctantly he pulled
away.

“Oh, Lib, I noticed my brown
loafers were a little scuffed. If you have time could you see if you could buff
them out for me?”

She smiled. This was another part
of their routine. Liberty needed to constantly feel needed and necessary. It
was difficult to do that when he was occupied at work. He made a habit of
dropping small hints about ways she could please him in his absence. This
usually did wonders for balancing her moods. His shoes were fine, but,
regardless of their untarnished state, he would likely return to not just one
shining pair of brown loafers but a closet full of perfectly polished gleaming
shoes displayed as if they were being privately gifted to the prince of England
himself.

He kissed her one last time and she
followed him to the foyer. Pulling his coat off the hanger she held it out to
him. After sliding it over his shoulders she latched each button in a way that
portrayed her utter devotion to him.

“I’ll be back soon.” He pinched her
chin affectionately and headed to the garage.

As he backed out of the garage bay,
he took one last glimpse at his gorgeous wife standing in the doorway before
focusing on turning the car and pulling out of the drive. She stood at the
door, a statue of beauty and salutation, until his car turned and the vision
faded.
 

* * * *

Sean had his doubts that the
mansion he’d been parked outside of actually belonged to Mase, but when a
Mercedes hummed by and zipped onto the main road he was certain he’d found the
place. Shit, Mase had really done well for himself. He’d fit in around here
like a hand full of sore thumbs.

The stale scent of travel clung to
him. Sean looked down at the five or so coffee cups littering the cab of his
truck and his old gym bag sitting beside him. Maybe he should just go. Mase
hadn’t called him back. He was married to the girl with the sweet voice that
answered the phone, had his Mercedes, and was finally a doctor. He’d done
everything he set out to do.
 
Well,
mostly. Some things had changed. Sean wondered if this whole trip was a waste.

He looked back to where Mase’s car
had vanished. The sun was setting and pink hues filled the expansive seascape
beyond the tall North Carolina dunes. They really lived in the middle of
nowhere. There were other homes nearby, but they were all so damn big they
seemed spread miles apart. Didn’t he get lonely out here? Sean remembered the
sweet voice on the phone.
No, probably not.
Mase had his wife to keep
him company.

He wondered what the woman who
earned Mase’s future was like. Would she be a fair blonde like him or brunette?
He wondered if she would actually appear feminine at all. When one spent a
chunk of their life loving men, he couldn’t understand finding much of an
appeal in a feminine woman. It would be like growing up on Italian food all
your life and suddenly switching to Chinese.

Were they happy? Did he love her?
He had so many questions. Things he would probably never know the answer to,
like how often Mase fucked his wife, and if there was an underlying tension
between them that would never go away? His friend sure lived in a big showy
house. Sean bet if there was tension in their marriage, they were probably
superficial enough to never let it show. For all he knew,
Doctor
Davis
might be nothing like the Mase he used to know.
 
Sure as fuck, the cornerstone of who Sean was had been traded in and
switched up.

A sick aching dread filled the pit
of his stomach as he worried that Mase might have all together forgotten about
him. No. He’d never be able to completely erase him from his mind. Not after
what they shared. Sure, it had been thirteen years since Sean walked away, but
they had two years of history prior to that. No matter how much things might
have changed, there was no way Mase could have wiped those two years of his
life from his memory.

Sean scrubbed his hands roughly
over his face. He badly needed a shave and a bed. He’d been driving for fucking
days and hadn’t seen a hotel since he crossed the border. There was a town just
over the bridge, but it looked to be mostly rental properties, not the kind of
place you just walked into and filled a vacancy. The idea of sleeping in his
truck didn’t appeal to him.

He looked into the rearview mirror
again. Where was Mase heading? Would he be back soon or was he gone for the
night? Maybe this whole trip was a waste and he should just keep moving. But
what if he left and Mase came right back and they just missed each other, never
knowing if his presence would be a welcomed one or not?

Coming so close to his past after
all these years and missing the opportunity to face down his greatest regret
would be enough to drive him insane. Before all else, he and Mase had been
friends. What was to say they couldn’t still be friends? They would have to be
if his boy was now married. Jesus, what if they had kids?

Sean started his truck. He had to
get out of there. He should’ve never come. But as he pulled onto the apron of
the drive so he could turn around and go back the way he came, a shadow moving
across the large front window of the enormous house caught his eye. He wanted a
face to put with the voice he’d heard the night before, a face to identify the
owner of Mase’s heart.

Before he realized what he was
doing he was already too far up the drive to turn back unnoticed. He’d just act
like he didn’t know Mase was out. Maybe the little wife could tell him if he
was coming right back. He recognized for a brief second that he wanted Mase’s
wife to be fat and ugly, maybe have a ridiculously large wart on her face. He
told himself he had the maturity of a toddler and needed to grow up.