Chapter 8 Never Been in Love

Eva's POV

"Mom, seriously?"

I resist the urge to roll my eyes even though she can't see me through the phone. I just had another shitty sex experience and now I'm getting another shitty news.

I love my mom. I really do and I thought she promised me she'd not get married to another man again but I guess a leopard would never change its spots.

Mason, the protagonist in my recent shitty sex escapade jumps up from the bed, eyeing me with misplaced adoration.

Mason and I have been fuck buddies for a week now, only because my vibrator and other toys don't have the comfortable feel of a man that can crush me with his weight while his balls is buried deep inside me.

"Good morning, princess," he kisses my cheek after putting on his boxers. It's only been a week and he's already caught feelings.

I don't want to hurt him now, especially since I'm still on the phone with my mom.

So, I feign a hearty smile, cover the mouthpiece of my phone and greet him back.

"Good morning, Mace. I'm on the phone with my mom," I whisper.

He gives me an apologetic look before bending to kiss my cheek again.

"I'll be in the kitchen," he informs as he trails out of my bedroom.

I'd picked Mason to be my fuck buddy because he's the only guy at my workplace that I thought would not want a relationship if we started fucking.

Some of the guys at my office seem like the possessive type and I'm not really into that at the moment.

I already knew the sex was going to be shitty even before I met Mason for this arrangement. He's got the look of a recently discovered Southern model but without the accent.

His hair is dirty blonde, his eyes are kind and sort of innocent and his lips are warm with the best smile. His body is like the steel. The best kind of steel.

So why is the sex shitty even though Mason can turn be every which way? Even though his dick is bigger than the average size?

Well, it's because of that random one-night stand seven years ago. His name shall not be spoken.

"Sweetie, I think he's the one," my mom urges pathetically. This is what she said in her last marriage.

My heart warms for her, despite my frustration with the situation.

I've never been in love and I don't think it's in the cards for me but I can't blame her for her hopelessness when it comes to romance.

Sometimes, I wish I could feel for someone, the way mom feels for her romantic interests.

"Alright," I relent.

"Thank you, baby. Now don't forget we'll be having an official dinner with him and his kids next month. I'd love for us to get together and bond before we set a date for the wedding!" Mom shares with barely contained excitement.

I focus on the beam of the morning sun slanting into the room through the slit in the window. If I focus hard enough, I may forget the last words mom just uttered.

Could my life get any worse?

Family bonding? I'm almost thirty years old.

Wouldn't that be awkward? And what if the man she's getting married to is younger? A gasp slips from me as I rush to question her.

"How old is he?"

Mom answers instantly, "Oh, we're around the same age, Angel."

My hackles relax at the news. "Okay, good."

There's a pause on both our ends before mom continues.

"So, will you make it? I could reschedule if that's what you want," she says cautiously.

Mom already knows I'm getting sick of these bonding moments with her boyfriends families.

While I've managed to keep contact with some of my step-siblings, I can't say that taking the first step to knowing them is fun.

It gets tedious along the way and it's starting to get to me.

"Angel, please. Just this once. It'll be the last time, I promise," Mom begs before I can convince myself to turn down her request.

Biting my lip, I shudder as I agree to her request. "Fine, mom. I'll be there," I say reluctantly.

"Thank you, baby. Can't wait! Have a nice day."

Her line clicks off, leaving me more tired than I felt when I woke this morning. Mason had done his best last night.

Some of the tension I had in my bones had slipped away thanks to his wonderful, skilled hands. He's a good masseuse, a brilliant one.

But just like my past sex companions, since I've refused to get into a relationship, I cannot praise his cock.

It's not as stellar as the one I had my first time.

A vision flashes across my mind and I wince at the memory, forcing it back to the darkness it came from.