I cling to him, kissing his jaw and inhaling his warm skin.
Jesus. Do all Australians smell this good? Like sunshine and impending orgasms. Mercy.
“Hey.” He squeezes me back, wrapping his arms around my waist and lifting me off the ground. The pressure of his hold is paramount.
Did he hear me through the door? Does he know I just chose him as my forever?
I press my face against his neck, concealing my burning cheeks. “Hi,” I whisper.
He laughs quietly, then leans back to kiss my temple. “Little devil. Ready to go?”
“Change of plans.” I wiggle out of his arms and grab his hand, tugging him inside. I kick the door closed. “My nephew has the chicken pox. Juls just called. I’ve never had them so I can’t go over there. God, can you imagine if I got them now? With Dylan laid up? Joey would be in charge of the bakery.” I make a face. “Everything would be cream filled.”
Mason smirks, then lowers his eyes to my attire, focusing on the crisscross of fabric over my breasts. His chest moves with a deep inhale. “Yeah? No dinner?”
I shrug. “Well, no meal with my family. We can eat something here. Or go out.”
“Mm.” He reaches for the door and turns the lock. His eyes darken.
Oh. Ohhhh. Eat something here. Right. Excellent choice.
“Anyone else home, sweetheart?”
I watch Mason’s hands lower to his belt. My neck warms.
“No,” I answer, shaking my head as he steps closer. “No, they went out. They won’t be back for a while.”
“Good. I’ve been hard all day.”
My gaze flicks up to his. “You have?”
The sound of the belt loosening draws my attention back down. The sharp whip of leather.
Mason grabs my hand and presses it against his cock through the fabric of his pants. He moans. The stiff organ twitches in my palm.
“Oh,” I gasp, molding my hand to him. “God . . .”
“Ever since this morning, Brooke.”
He tips my chin up, looking at me while he uses my hand to stroke his length. The front of his pants becomes restrictive. My pulse quickens to a galloping pace.
“I keep hearing your voice telling me you’re with me, and I get so fucking hard.”
I grip his shirt, reaching for a kiss. “I’m with you.”
His breath bursts across my mouth. “Brooke.”
“Take me. Here. Right here.”
He grabs my breast roughly and squeezes, giving me the briefest of kisses before my head rolls to the side with a moan.
“I want you wet,” he says, kissing the line of my neck. Moving his breath over my skin. I shudder when I feel teeth. “So wet that when I bend down and lick that sweet pussy you drip down the back of my throat.”
“Mason, Jesus.” My hand goes stagnant against his cock. My other squeezing his waist. “That won’t be a problem.”
God, what his filthy mouth does to me. I’m worried my legs might give out soon.
He backs me against the bar counter, his thumb rubbing mercilessly over my nipple through the thin fabric of my dress.
I make quiet little noises against his shirt when he tugs on the hardened peak.
“I want you to milk my cock with these.” He runs his hand between my breasts. “And this.” He smooths his thumb over my mouth, then slides his hand beneath my dress and cups my throbbing sex.
His eyes flicker. I nearly shoot off the ground.
“Mm. Think I might start with this.”
“Fuck. Please.”
I grab his face and kiss him, and it becomes a battle of who can kiss harder, firmer, who can steal the other’s breath away faster as both of our hands fumble between us, him popping the button on his pants and my fingers tugging on the zipper. He frees his cock. I hike up my dress. My thong stays in place, Mason slipping his finger under the wet fabric and tugging it aside. He runs his digit through my slit.
“Jesus,” he moans. His eyes lowering as mine threaten to roll back in my head. “Tits out, gorgeous.”
I pull the neckline of my dress down.
Bossy Mason. Yummy.
My breasts pop free, the cool air of the condo assaulting my nipples. I squeak when he grips the back of my thighs and lifts me, bringing us chest to chest, my hands gripping his hair and his palming my ass and squeezing.
He buries his face in my neck. “Want you. Want you so fucking bad I can’t think.”
“Take me. Please,” I groan, biting my lip when he slowly lowers me onto his cock. My legs shake as he stretches me. “Mason . . . oh, fuck.”
He bounces me up and down, fucking me in the middle of my friends’ condo, with our clothes still on and the cold metal of his zipper rubbing against my clit. Biting at my flesh. It hurts and it’s heaven. Fuck, he’s so big I fear he might rip me in half, but even the threat of death wouldn’t stop me from taking this. From allowing him to use my body for his pleasure, which is exactly what he’s doing. I have no control right now. He’s manipulating my weight, lowering me onto his cock at the pace and ferocity he wants, and every time I gasp in shock or squirm in his arms, he revels in my response by giving it to me harder. Faster. Squeezing my thighs until they sting as he shows me how fierce his need is for me, which only solidifies my longing for him.
I’ve kept him hard since this morning. He’s punishing me in the sweetest way for it.
Take me. Take me. Just don’t let me go.
With parted lips he looks into my eyes, our faces inches apart as his shallow breaths bathe my skin and absorb into my lungs.
I feel drugged.
I want to taste him in my soul. I want to feel him moving in my blood. I want to consume and be consumed by this man. Only him.
Love is a madness I will willingly accept if he’s the one pulling me under.
“Brooke . . . goddamn.” He thrusts his hips steadily. “So good. So good, baby.”
God, I love it when he calls me that.
My fingers tug at Mason’s hair as I lean forward and moan into his mouth. I feel my orgasm tickling my spine. “I’m close. Where do you want to come?” I ask, watching the sweat bead on his brow. His nostrils flaring.
He keeps me on the tip of his cock, slowly lowering and lifting me. He sucks on my lips. “Where can I?” His voice is strained. He’s close too.
“Anywhere.”
“Anywhere?” He leans back and studies my face.
I smirk. I can’t help myself.
Tensing my thighs, I arch into him and reach behind me, fisting his cock. I position him at my back entrance.
He sucks in a breath. His eyes as round as quarters as he stares at me. “Brooke.”
“Anywhere,” I whisper against his mouth, slowly applying pressure to the head of his cock, easing him past that tight ring of muscle.
I take in slow, deep breaths, controlling my breathing.
Mason isn’t controlling much of anything.
“Baby,” he rasps, his shoulders and arms tensing, his chest heaving as he slips inside, just an inch, maybe not even that much. Growling like a caged animal, the cords in his neck threatening to burst, he lifts me off his cock and reaches between us, stroking himself furiously against my clit. “Ah, fuck . . . Brooke, fuck!” he yells, the first spurts of cum hitting my stomach and the bunched material of my dress. The rest of his desire coating my sex and his fingers.
Bliss.
“Wow,” I breathe, dragging my lips along his cheek, moaning at the warm sensation between my legs. “That was crazy.”
And hot.
Mason snarls, leaning away and looking down between us. I swear he sways on his feet.
“Shit, Brooke. Fuck. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I got it on your dress.”
“Shh.” I reach down and grab his dick, pressing it where I ache the most. Our eyes lock. “Need to come.”
Huffing out a breath, he moves us to a nearby stool and sits me on it. His cock wet and heavy against my thigh. With his hand between my legs and his lips moving across my skin, he brings me to orgasm within seconds, pressing sweet words against my cheek and dirty ones into my ear.