𝐑𝐀𝐘𝐍𝐄 𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐑 is your average do-good lawyer on the rise to fame as a representative of young victims. Except her motivations aren't all that innocent. Rayne's only goal is to run from her past, to leave confrontation for the courtroom, no...
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𝗠ason shifted his legs under the blanket, feeling and tangling them with those near him. There must have been a window open as he felt the warmth of the sun burn his cheek, but the wind along with it made it a pleasant feeling. His other cheek was resting on another person's chest; his head was tucked underneath what felt like someone's chin.
The smell of expensive cologne, old spice deodorant and faded cigarettes filled his nostrils. It wasn't the best thing to smell so early in the morning, but it wasn't exactly displeasing either.
He moved his hand from the side of the sheets to the strong, sharp waist of another person. A tingly feeling rang throughout his body as his fingers played in the divots of their abdomen.
Blake feels so different today.
Mm..
He slowly opened his eyes, blinking once or twice. They remained half – hooded as he looked around the room. He didn't recognize the interior as half of the walls were made up of brick. A British flag was hung up on one of them; it danced coolly in the wind. There was a flat screen TV mounted to the wall and an entertainment center. His gun lay resting on it. A bathroom was nearby, and dressers as well as some scattered laundry decorated what was left of the room.
Where he was, wasn't clicking to him.
Did Blake and I go somewhere last night?
I never really leave my gun out like that.
He closed his eyes once more and snuggled tighter; this feels so nice.
Mason ran his hands down this person's stomach – fully this time, ending at the waistband of their shorts. His eyebrows dipped in confusion as he realized this was not the physic of his girlfriend.
A raspy chuckle sounded above him as a strong hand rested on the back of his head; this person's fingers began to play with his hair.
Alarmed, he pushed up slightly and opened his eyes, letting them travel slowly up the length of this stranger's body.
Black earrings.
Septum piercing.
Freckles.
.... dark, blue eyes.
His memory faintly returned as their eyes connected completely.
Oh no.
"Mornin'" he spoke; his lips were pulled into a smirk and his eyes were shining in lust.
Mason yelped and spun fast, off of his body; he was unaware of his surroundings and found himself falling face first onto the floor a second later. He groaned and turned over onto his back, rubbing his face in pain. When he opened his eyes again, a head of blue hair was hanging over the side of the bed, looking at him sideways.
