“Nope. First time. I’m very motivated to please my instructor.”
His mouth twitches in the corner.
“Ready?”
“Oh, hold on. Not yet.” I grab the hem of my shirt and strip it over my head, leaving me in only my hot pink sports bra.
His lips part with a rushed exhale. He looks beautiful, eyes wide and wild.
“There. That’s better. I was burning up in that.”
I watch his neck roll with a swallow, the heavy bob of his Adam’s apple I want to run my tongue over and taste. His hands shake as they move over my skin to resume their grip.
“Devil,” he whispers, leaning down and lifting my hips. “Stay after class.”
Yes.
His hands leave me. I hold the pose as he moves around the room, meeting my gaze every few steps.
Twenty minutes later, I’m practically bouncing on my feet as the class dismisses. I wave to Joey as he slips out the door, then take a moment to fix my disheveled pony.
I shouldn’t bother. It’s about to get a whole lot messier.
Holding my discarded tank, I wait for Mason on my mat as he walks a few stragglers to the door. He closes it and turns the top lock. Taking his shirt, he wipes it across his face, removing the sweat.
“Great class,” I tell him as he walks toward me.
An honest observation. I never thought I’d actually enjoy working out, let alone yoga.
His mouth stretches into a proud smile. “Yeah? I thought it was all right. I was a bit nervous.”
“Why? You made it easy. Nobody seemed to have trouble keeping up.”
“Except you.” He stops in front of me, looking between the shirt in my hand and my face. “Or, was that just a ploy to get me to touch you?”
I shrug. “I don’t think I need a ploy. I think you want to touch me.”
“I do.”
“And here I am. Touch away.”
His eyes, the color of autumn, do this shift from playful to something else, something darker.
Make me come.
My fist tightens on my tank.
All too soon his smoldering gaze is gone, swiftly darting across the room.
“I need to shower. Will you wait? My room is just upstairs. I’ll be quick.”
I stare at his profile, a bit confused.
Shower?
Once again, the ‘why bother’ question fills my head. We’re about to mount each other. I, for one, plan on utilizing every hard surface in this studio. It’s 90 degrees in here, and my entire body is coated in a light sheen of sweat.
Everybody has their routines during sex. Maybe Mason likes to start off freshly washed?
“Yeah, okay. Hurry though.”
He gives me a curt nod and takes to the stairs.
Mm. He lives here. Strangely, that thought hadn’t crossed my mind. Even though Dylan lives above her business, I hadn’t considered Mason having the same situation.
I pad about the studio for two, three minutes, maybe.
Curiosity gets the best of me. Or maybe I’m too horny to wait any longer.
I quietly slip upstairs.
I’ve always loved shower sex.
MASON
Warm water hits the back of my neck as I drop my head between my shoulders.
With a soapy hand, I stroke my dick. My free hand braces my weight on the wet tile.
Brooke. Brooke. Brooke.
What the fuck am I doing?
I could be feeling her tighten around me right now. Roaming my hands over her soft curves. Licking the sweat off her tits while I palm her arse and lower her onto my cock.
Instead, I’m jerking off to thoughts of her like a desperate juvenile.
Fuck, but if I don’t . . .
I’ve been fighting off an erection since I saw her on the footpath. That struggle intensified when I got a view of the back of her¸ and then she had to go and strip in the middle of my fucking class.
She has me and she knows it.
I pinch my eyes shut.
She is so incredibly beautiful.
Barely any makeup. The glow of her skin from exertion. Her hair, tousled and slick with sweat.
My hand works faster. I rock my hips.
God, I need to come.
I want to talk to Brooke. I want to know her, and I’d really love to do that without my dick being hard and without the overwhelming desire to bury myself balls deep mudding up my thoughts.
When was the last time I couldn’t get through a single conversation with a woman without imagining what she would look like wet and begging beneath me?
I’m not that guy. I sure as hell don’t want to be that guy for Brooke. And I won’t be . . .
I just need to get this ache out of my body.
My thighs tense beneath me. I take a moment to rub my thumb over the head of my dick, mingling the water and precum. I let myself moan. The quick slapping of skin echoes off the walls of my small bathroom.
I remember what she felt like as I held the slender curve of her hips. She was smooth and warm. Sweat pooled in the dip between her collarbones.
“Holy fuck,” I gasp, my hand working furiously now.
If only she knew what I was doing. What I was thinking. How close I was to . . .
“Mm. Need a hand with that?”
My eyes flash open at the sound of a voice at my back. Equal parts wicked and sweet. Stilling my hand, I squeeze the base of my dick and look over my shoulder.
Brooke peers inside the small opening in the shower curtain, smiling, her gaze lingering on my arse.
“Shit.” I wrench the handle and cut off the water. Fuck . . . fuck! I probably look like such a fucking wanker. Covering myself as best as I can, I turn to look at her. “Brooke, I . . .”
She slides the shower curtain back.
Good fucking Christ.
My mouth falls open. My breathing quickens. Brooke, now completely naked, stands before me, proudly showing off her insanely sexy body as she leans against the wall. Calculating smirk twisting across those sexy as fuck lips.
I can’t pull my eyes away. I knew she would be a fucking sin to look at, but I had no idea . . .
Her full tits sit high on her chest. A faint blush spreading over them. Her nipples, a dusty pink, hardened and ready for my tongue. The soft flare of her hips. Long, shapely legs. Her bare . . .
My cock jumps against my hand.
She lifts her leg to step inside the small shower with me.
“Whoawhoawhoa.” I shove the curtain open further and reach for two towels. “Here. Fuck, please put this on. I’m . . .” I struggle to speak, to secure my own towel around my waist while holding one out for her. The cotton brushes against my cock and I moan.
I was so fucking close. Why didn’t I lock the door?
She laughs softly, lowering her foot. “Why the hell would I do that? And why are you covering up? Turn the water back on and fuck me.”
I step out of the shower. “I think maybe we should talk a little first.”
“Talk? Yeah, okay. Were you not just jerking off thinking about me?”
“No, I was. I was, I just . . .”
“Then what is there to talk about?”
I give up on wrapping the towel around my waist and hold it against my cock, offering her the other one. “Please, Brooke.”
I need her to cover up. I can’t hold a conversation with this woman with her tits out.
Speaking of tits . . .
She crosses her arms underneath them. They bounce a little and I bite back my moan.
“Do you want me or not?”
“I want you,” I answer quickly. God, isn’t it obvious? “Trust me, Brooke, I want you, but maybe we could take this a bit slower, yeah?”
“Slower? Why? I want to fuck you. You clearly want to fuck me, based on your massive erection, which bravo, by the way. He’s beautiful.” She takes the towel from me and drops it on the floor, inching closer. “You came up here to jerk off to thoughts of me. I know you didn’t finish. How close were you?”