by Whitley Cox
He blew cool air lightly across the tip before raking the rough stubble on his chin over the taut nub.
She trembled beneath him, and her pussy pulsed. Her eyelids grew heavy, her senses drugged by the sexual hunger emanating off him, by her own starvation and need for release. She bowed her back as he slipped two fingers into her slick channel and began to pump, his thumb strumming back and forth over her clit like the strings of a guitar. She churned her hips just a touch, and he pressed up hard inside her, hitting that sweet spot just right.
He sucked hard on her nipple, and a whimper escaped her when the pleasure sprinted straight to her clit.
“You taste incredible,” he purred against her heated flesh, pushing the other breast out of her dress as well and capturing the tight bud in his mouth. Every word he spoke, every move he made, every look he gave her was designed to seduce her. And it was working like a charm.
She was putty in his hands. A slave to his ministrations and the magic his body, his mouth, his tongue and fingers wielded.
With his free hand, he scrunched up the hem of her dress until her midriff was exposed, his fingers still fucking her, still hitting that spot, still grazing her walls, bringing her climax closer and closer.
He swirled his tongue over her nipple one more time, tugged hard enough to pull a gasp from her and then continued his journey down her abdomen. He nuzzled her belly button, swirled his tongue around and around, tickling her.
“Cheesecake,” she panted.
He lifted his head, his fingers inside her stilling. “Huh?”
“Cheesecake. You … you said you were going to eat cheesecake out of my belly button.”
The corners of his mouth curled up into a devious smile, and his fingers slipped from inside her as his weight left the bed and he stood up. “So I did. And we can’t make me into a liar, can we?”
Lowenna’s bottom lip snagged beneath her top teeth and she shook her head, her eyes devouring him like he was a giant piece of amaretto pistachio cheesecake she couldn’t wait to sink her teeth into.
She heard the plastic bag rustling and watched as he pulled a white cardboard box free and opened it. With a plastic fork from the bag, he scooped out a piece of cake.
She waited for the cool sensation of the cake to land on her exposed skin, but it never happened.
Instead, he brought the fork up to her mouth. “Open up, baby.”
Smiling, she did as she was told and accepted the fork. At the same time she closed her lips over it, Mason slid two fingers back inside her.
Her eyes fluttered shut.
The flavors and pleasure were too much. Too intense. Her back bowed again, and her hips shot up high off the bed. That’s when she felt the cool dampness land in her navel.
It was the shock to her system that she needed, the jolt required to drag her back from the edge.
His warm tongue twirled around her belly button, scooping out the cheesecake. Each swipe of his tongue sent a new wave of ecstasy down to where his fingers joined her, to where he pumped and coaxed the orgasm back to the cliff edge.
She pulled in a ragged breath, then breathed out.
“Let go, baby,” he whispered, his lips landing on the lower part of her stomach, just above her panty line.
She shook her head, her hair splaying across the duvet. “No, I can’t.”
Not yet.
His eyes drifted up her body. “You can’t or you won’t?”
She swallowed. “I … I won’t. Not yet. I … I want you … ”
Why was she suddenly nervous to tell him she wanted all of him? That she wanted to feel more of him inside her, all of him inside her. When Mason made her come, she wanted it to be because they were connected, because he was about to come too. Maybe they could come together.
His fingers hooked into the sides of her silky black G-string, and he pulled it down over her thighs. “Not tonight,” he whispered, tossing her underwear to the floor, then rising back up and pressing his nose to the trimmed and shaped dark hair at the apex of her legs. He inhaled deeply. “Tonight, you are drunk. And that is not how we are going to do this. Not the first time, at least.”
She shut her eyes and shoved the heels of her palms into her sockets, twisting. When she removed her hands, her brain swirled and colors flashed.
Yep, she was drunk.
He nuzzled his nose above her pussy, his breath a hot beat against her slippery folds. His fingers still moved inside her. With his shoulders, he spread her thighs, then sank down to the floor on his knees.
“Tonight is about you, my warrior.” He hummed, his lips just hovering over her clit, the buzz of his words the only thing touching her.
She shimmied her bottom on the bed and jerked her hips up.
He pulled his face away completely and, with his free hand, turned her over onto one butt cheek. Then he spanked her.
She yelped from the surprise and sting of pain. She hadn’t been expecting that at all.
But one thing she knew for sure—she liked it.
Where his hand had been was now a blooming warmth that spread through her like a wildfire, settling where his fingers were still connected to her, where his thumb flicked and fiddled with her clit.
“How badly do you want to come, Lowenna?” he asked, settling her back down on the bed, both cheeks to the duvet. His thumb fell away from her clit and his tongue replaced it.
“So bad,” she breathed. She wanted to churn her hips again, press her mound against his mouth, but she knew better. His spank from earlier had been a warning. He was in charge of her pleasure tonight.
“How bad, baby?” His fingers slipped out of her, and both his hands palmed her bare thighs, spreading her legs wider. He lifted his head and removed his tongue.
Her chest rose and fell erratically.
He wasn’t even touching her now, and yet she could probably come. She was so charged, so turned on and swollen.
“Mason,” she whispered. “I’m so close. I want to come so, so bad. I want you to make me come … please.”
With both hands on her thighs, he pushed them even farther apart, bent his head low and swept his tongue up through her folds. From perineum to clit and back. Over and over again, he licked her like she was a melting ice cream cone and he wanted every single drip on his tongue.
The man definitely made her melt.
Unable to stop herself, she bucked up into him, gripped the bedspread until her knuckles cramped and let go.
He sucked hard on her clit as the climax picked her up, spun her around and then sent her sailing headfirst off the cliff and out into the abyss. His tongue twiddled and flicked on her hood as it swelled and pulsated with each delicious wave of her release.
With a final hard suck to her clit as the climax began to wane, he plunged his tongue into her pussy and drank her down, lapped up her juices, fucked her just like his fingers had. Like his life depended on it. Another, bigger, more intense orgasm than the first rocked her soul. She hadn’t even come down from the first climax, and already the next one was overhauling her senses, wracking her body until she was afraid she couldn’t take any more pleasure.
Her thighs shook uncontrollably. Her head thrashed on the bed. Her breasts ached.
And Mason did all of this to her.
She’d grown tired of her trusty vibrator and had pretty much become celibate over the last few months. Too tired in the evening to even think about sex and too lonely to continuously do it by herself. So she just didn’t bother.
But these last few moments, Mason had done a damn good job reminding her what she’d been missing, what she’d been lacking in her life.
And that was Mason … and orgasms … and orgasms from Mason.
Spent from his attention, she released her vice grip on the bedspread and tossed her forearm over her eyes, her whole body on fire and feeling like she’d just done sprints at the track. She was on an adrenaline high, full of endorphins and dopamine and all those other feel-good chemicals that
people chased. She wanted to ride her high for as long as she could.
He released her thighs, and she heard him stand up and head to the bathroom. The faucet ran, and then a few seconds later he was back, his weight causing the bed to dip.
Gently, his fingers wrapped around her wrist, and he pulled her arm free from over her eyes. He was sitting up on the bed, grinning that crazy-sexy smile on that crazy-talented mouth and staring at her.
She bit her lip.
With his other hand, he pulled it free from her teeth and shook his head. “No shyness. Not with me.”
She swallowed and nodded.
“You want to sit up?”
She nodded again, and he helped her up. Though that might have been a bad idea because spots clouded her vision and her head spun when she was once again vertical.
Maybe she shouldn’t have had those last couple of glasses of wine … or that cheap tequila.
She shut her eyes for a moment to keep her dinner down.
The last thing she wanted was for Mason to see her get sick from having had too much to drink. She was thirty goddamn years old. She should know how to hold her booze.
He handed her the water bottle, and she took a sip, pulling her dress down over her knees and tucking her breasts back into the top of her dress at the same time. Even though he told her she wasn’t allowed to be shy, she was having a hard time looking at him.
She located her G-string, but it was too far away on the floor, and for some reason she didn’t think he’d be too pleased with her if she stood up and retrieved it. So instead, she simply sat there, staring at her knitted hands, her stomach churning, her pulse thundering in her ears and her thighs slick.
“Lowenna.” His deep, calm voice drew her to look at him. How could she not? His gaze was kind but avid, almost concerned. Heat still flickered behind the intense blue, but there was also a wariness there now too. “You okay?”
She nodded for what she felt like was the millionth time. “Yeah.” She exhaled. “I’m more than okay.”
That earned her a big smile.
“Good. Me too.” He reached over and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, his hand lingering and then cupping her cheek, his pinky finger resting along her neck, undoubtedly feeling her rapid pulse. “I’ve wanted this for so long, Lowenna. Wanted you. Since the moment you came into my bar and sat there with your little notebook and pen, interviewing man after man … ” He shook his head and huffed a laugh, glancing down at his lap. “Even if you weren’t interviewing gigolos or, I dunno … if you were a madam of some kind, I wanted you. Wanted to get to know you, everything about you.”
She blew out a breath and leaned into his hand, closing her eyes. “Mason … I … ” She blinked rapidly a few times as she took a moment to process everything he’d just said. When she lifted her head to his meet his gaze once again, the look that greeted her was no longer worrisome or wary. It was intense and heated, and it made her entire body tremble instantly.
He ran his free hand through his hair, exhaling another shaky laugh. “Hell, I didn’t even know you yet, had the opportunity to kiss half a dozen women on New Year’s Eve, and I didn’t, because all I could think about was you. I’m falling for you.” His lips twisted. “Or maybe I’ve already fallen, I don’t know. But I don’t want this to be a business arrangement anymore. I want us to be real. I want us to be together. I don’t want to just give you the boyfriend experience, I want to be your boyfriend.”
Holy shit.
Desire … and something else rolled through her in big, lazy waves, touching every inch of her until her entire body burned like the surface of the sun for the man whose soulful blue eyes were at that moment looking at her like no man had ever looked at her before.
She went to open her mouth to say something, anything, when her stomach lurched.
Her eyes went wide as panic replaced every other feeling inside her. Her hands flew over her mouth, sending the water bottle to the floor as she stood up and raced to the bathroom. She fell to her knees and managed to get the lid to the toilet up just in time before …
Oh God!
She alternated between vomiting and groaning.
How embarrassing.
How utterly embarrassing.
Here Mason had just poured his heart out to her and she’d gone and responded by barfing.
Romantic.
She gripped the bowl as wave after wave of nausea ripped through her.
A warm hand landed on her back and began to rub while another one gathered her hair off her face.
“Baby,” he cooed, clicking his tongue. “Oh, honey.” The tone of his voice didn’t sound the least bit upset. If anything, he sounded amused. But perhaps that was just the wine talking, and she couldn’t really discern tone or tenor from the most definite death of many of her brain cells. “I’ve gotcha,” he said, tucking her hair up into what felt like a hotel bathroom shower cap. “Can’t find a hair elastic, so this will have to do.” He resumed rubbing her back and making deep, low, comforting noises that she assumed would cause even the most skittish of horses to relax.
“I can’t in good conscience drop you off at your house tonight, not like this.”
“Just leave me here to die,” she murmured, shutting her eyes.
She felt his warm chuckle through his hand on her back. “Uh, not going to happen. You can come stay at my place. I’ll sleep in the guest room, and you can have my room with the master bathroom. You can live on the tile floor if you need to.”
She opened her eyes, sat up, flushed the toilet and accepted the towel he handed her. “I’m so sorry,” she said, her words muffled by the plush white towel she was wiping across her mouth. “You just … you did that, and then you poured your heart out, and I … I ruin everything by puking. I was going to … ” She twisted her lips and rolled her eyes.
“You were going to what?” he asked, his grin so devilish, if her mouth didn’t taste like a port-o-potty at Coachella, she might consider kissing him.
Her eyes drifted down to his lap. “I was going to return the favor.” Heat bloomed in her cheeks.
He smiled even wider. “No, you weren’t, but I appreciate the offer.”
She went to open her mouth in protest, but he cut her off with his finger against her lips.
“I told you, you’re drunk. It won’t be like that for us … not the first time. When we”—his lips twisted—“when we finally do what grownups do best, we’ll both be sober.”
She couldn’t believe guys like him still existed. The decent, respectful kind.
She glanced down at her lap, her stomach doing a painful, alarming somersault. “I like you, too, Mason. Like really, really like you. It hasn’t been an arrangement with me for a while either. I’ve just been so caught up in this wedding and work that I refused to let myself think that you might not be pretending anymore. I didn’t want to get my hopes up.”
She went to look at him, but the wine in her stomach had other ideas, and instead she found herself once again hovering over the bowl, his hand on her back as every grape from that batch of wine came back up.
“I’m sorry you have to see me like this,” she wailed in between bouts.
His lips fell to her sweaty temple. “A real boyfriend, not just the kind you hire, stays even when his woman is puking.” Then he continued to rub her back at the same time she began to fall in love with him.
16
The wedding wasn’t until three o’clock, with the reception to follow at six, so Mason figured they had the better part of the morning to discuss last night and see where they stood. See if Lowenna remembered anything.
Another reason why he didn’t fuck drunk chicks. He wanted them to remember him taking them, pleasuring them, making them lose their mind. The only reason a woman shouldn’t be able to remember having sex with him was when she blacked out mid-orgasm because it was so intense, her brain short-circuited. Not because she’d consumed half the Napa Valley’s supply of merlot.
&n
bsp; Only when he went to knock on his bedroom door, with a steaming cup of coffee and two Advil for his impromptu houseguest, the door swung open to reveal an empty room.
He checked the en suite bathroom, but that was empty too. The bed had been remade, the towels folded. The only trace that Lowenna had even been there was the scent of chocolate in the air—and even that was slightly masked by the smell of vomit.
He hadn’t bothered to check his phone yet, as Willow had been a demanding little thing when she woke up at five o’clock, only to promptly pass out around seven thirty with Mason in the guest bed. He’d woken up again around eight thirty, moved Willow back to her crib and went to check on Lowenna.
But when he realized she’d gone AWOL, he ran to his phone in the guest room, pulled it from the charger and checked his messages.
Sure enough, there was one from her.
Sorry to leave without saying anything this morning. I didn’t want to wake you as I heard Willow up early and figured the two of you had fallen back to sleep. I have so much to do before the wedding so I need to get an early start. I’ll see you at the hotel at 2:30, okay? Thanks so much for last night. Holding my hair, letting me crash at your house, defending my honor in front of the big sister from hell, and … the other thing too. Xoxoxo
Mason smiled at her coy mention of the other thing. If he wanted to get specific, it was actually two other things, because he’d made her come twice.
But who was counting?
He was, that’s who.
He’d planned to make her come a few more times too, but apparently her stomach had other ideas.
He texted her back, grinning as he made his way into the kitchen, sipping the coffee he’d intended for her.
Happy Birthday, gorgeous! I was hoping to sing to you this morning. Willow says I have the absolute BEST singing voice.
He hit send, but not before taking a shirtless selfie with a big smile. Then he sent her another one.