Fuck, fuck, fuck, what am I doing? So much of this is wrong, but I’ve never felt so right. He makes me feel so… wanted. I could be risking everything by going forward with this. Everything I’ve worked so hard for. And what if this is just a phase? For him or me? But what if I take a chance on someone who has never made me feel so cherished, needed, happy, fulfilled? What if?
What if I let him go? Could I live with the realization that something mediocre as age and status got in the way of being with someone who finally makes me feel so… perfect?
No. I can’t.
I can’t imagine pushing Mason away and giving up this happiness he envelopes me in. Maybe risking it all is, in the end, giving me even more? It all hits me like a ton of bricks and my lips part. I’m giving him my answer by wrapping my arms around his neck and bringing his head closer. This time, he kisses me back with the ferocity of him I crave.
“Fuck, I want you. Not just your sexy body, but your mind. I wanna own your fucking soul.” He kisses me harder, his tongue dominating my mouth. I press my pulsating sex into him, in desperate need of a connection.
“Mason, fuck me. Please. I need you,” I beg.
His mouth rips from mine, his stare, a fire of passion. “I wanna fuck you bare. I’m clean. I haven’t been with anyone…not in a while.”
There’s a lot of carelessness in his request, and I should say no, but the thought of nothing standing between us sets a burn to my belly. “Okay. Yes.”
His eyes darken, and for a moment, I fear he’s changed his mind. His hand lifts, and he cups my face. “Fucking perfect. I don’t even know how to say it otherwise. You’re more than that. In every way.” He aligns himself between my legs, and I feel the tip of him at my entrance. I’m way past wet, and my arousal allows him to easily push inside me. No words describe how good he feels bare, filling every part of me. “Fuck, you feel so good.” He pulls out, the vein in his forehead protruding, and with a low moan, he drives back into me. He takes my mouth savagely and swallows my own cry of pleasure, his thick cock thrusting in and out.
“Oh, Mason.” I want to weep from the overwhelming need. My legs wrap around his hips, and I beg him to take me harder, faster. This slow torment is killing me. He brings his hand under my butt and flips us.
“I want you to ride me. Wanna see your face as you take me.”
My belly tightens at his request. He’s all man, his muscles like stone on full display and bulging. He grabs my hips and bounces me up and down his shaft. My hands press against his pecs, my fingers caressing the flower tattoo over his heart. Something dark flashes in his eyes, and he’s pushing my hand away, sitting forward. His mouth is at my shoulder and his fingers digging into my ass cheeks as he continues to pump in to me.
Reverberations of sex and moans fill the room, our bodies heated, crashing into one another. Sweat builds between us, and I’m not sure I’ll make it out of this one alive. My hands go back into his hair, and my fingers curl at how deep inside me he is in this position. I want to ride him harder and wilder, but his hand grips tighter into my skin, forcing me to slow down.
“Need to fuck you slow. Forever.”
“Mason, I can’t, it’s too much,” I plead.
“Let me be yours. I’ll take care of you.”
I shake my head violently. “We can’t.”
His grip only hardens, and he drives up into me. “We can. There’s nothing stopping us.”
“There is. My job. Your age, we can’t—ahhh,” I moan as his teeth bite at my shoulder.
“Fuck that. You’re mine. You want this. I can’t let you go now. Let me in. We’ll figure it out.”
“Mason,” I pant his name, my hips grinding over his cock, my mind spinning.
“That’s right. Say my name. The name of the man who’s gonna own you. Fuckin’ ride me.” His hands are ruthless, slamming my ass into him, fucking me so deep, I can no longer think straight. I grind into him, my hand reaching for his face and cupping his cheeks while my mouth covers his. I kiss him hard and wild. “What’s it gonna be baby?”
“Yes,” I breathe, and he loses it. He flips us, and my back hits the mattress. He starts pounding into me, a hand at my pussy, rubbing hard at my clit. My vision begins to blacken as vibrations shoot down to my toes and I bite down on my tongue as my orgasm detonates and sends me over the edge of euphoria. With one last low growl from Mason, I feel the warmth of him explode inside me.
“Jesus Christ,” he grunts, falling to his back and tucking me close to his chest. “I get you to agree we’re good only for you to nearly kill me.”
I laugh and slap him on his bare chest. “Blackmailing me into the orgasm of the century isn’t technically agreeing.”
He kisses the top of my head. “Can’t take it back now. Plus, there’s a lot more where that came from.”
I lay my head on his chest, and his fingers thread their way into my hair. I’m listening to the beating of his heart and he suddenly becomes rigid underneath me when my fingers trail over the flower tattoo. “What’s the story behind this one?” I ask. The flower is stunning. But wrapped around it are sharp, nasty thorns. It’s beautiful, yet so angry. His hand, for the second time, stops my fingers from touching it. I raise my head. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”
“Don’t apologize. It’s just nothing I want to talk about.”
I nod and rest my head back on his chest. “All right. Maybe, tell me something about you? Where’d you grow up? What kinda things were you into? I feel like you know what a geek I was, and I barely know anything about you.”
He presses his lips to the top of my head again. “You know my cock has a fondness for ya.” I slap him hard this time. “Ouch, okay. Fine, you win,” he laughs. “I don’t have a very pretty story like yours, unfortunately. Jumped around a lot. Landed here.”
“Way to keep it to the basics, Casanova,” I joke. “You’ve gotta give me more than that. Why’d you pick St. Augustine? Are you from New Orleans? When’s your birthday?”
His body tenses. “What’s this, an interrogation or some shit?” he asks, missing a bit of the lightheartedness in his tone.
I raise my head to face him. “Of course not. I just wanted to get to know you. If we’re gonna…you know, it’s fine—”
“Shit, I’m sorry. I just have a past I don’t like talking about, that’s all.”
His statement drips with sadness and makes me frown like a huge jerk. He doesn’t have to tell me details for me to figure out he had a hard childhood. He doesn’t dress like the rest of the bleeding rich college kids, not that I mind. His roguish bad boy attire is totally hot. Now I feel like an even bigger jerk for bragging about my fancy upbringing, loving parents, and adventures, when he probably had none of those things. “No, I’m the one who’s sorry. I shouldn’t have pushed.”
He cradles me in his arms, adjusting us so we’re laying on our sides. “I’ve lived in New Orleans my whole life. Moved around a lot so can’t call any certain town our home. My parents died when I was eleven, my sister nine. She’s here, so I followed her here to be close to her.” He dips down, pressing his lips to mine for a short, sweet kiss. “And I got the tattoo to impress a girl who didn’t wait around long enough to be impressed.”
We stare at one another, until I lift myself up, push him onto his back, and straddle him. “I’m sorry to hear about your parents,” I start, leaning low to press my lips to his. I kiss him and pull back. “I’m sorry you had to move around a lot and didn’t have a place to call home.” I repeat my actions. He lets me. “And I’m sorry a girl broke your heart.” This time, he locks his hand behind my head, keeping me in place as his lips fuse to mine. He then takes all control, kissing me, his tongue working its way into my mouth.
A hoarse squeal falls from my mouth as his hand reaches back and swipes along my bare butt cheek. My body jolts, thrusting forward. He bites my bottom lip and grabs at both sides of my ass. “Don’t ever apologize for that shit.” He grinds his hardening dick into me. “My misjudgments ain’t any reason for you to say sorry.” Another thrust, and his dick becomes slick from my building arousal.
“I just thought—”
“Don’t need your sympathy. Need you for you. Need you to just understand.” He thrusts up, and I adjust him so he’s able to easily slide inside me. I rock back and forth, losing myself in the sensation of how great he feels filling me.
“I understand,” I moan, back and forth, back and forth. I release his mouth and sit forward so I can watch his eyes darken as I ride him.
“Fuck, you’re beautiful like this. Riding my cock.”
And he has no idea how breathtaking he is. Watching him as our bodies connect, me taking all of him, riding him. There are no words to explain just how insanely, crazy, perfect this moment is. I moan loudly when he pinches my nipple and follow it up with a low purr when he starts working my clit in a circular motion.