Mason's Resolution

by Kristine Allen

  DINNER WAS AMAZING, AS always with Steph’s cooking, but also one of the most uncomfortable experiences I’d ever had. First, Remi busted me by asking why “Unco Mason” was in my room. Steph and Reaper tried not to laugh at her innocent question. Then, to top it all off, Mason and his smug little smirk. I was mortified that Steph and Reaper had any idea of what had happened in there. Good Lord. Once upon a time, I would have had no qualms bringing a guy home with Steph being in her room, but now that we were older and it was her house with her family, it just seemed, well, awkward. She had kids in the house for crying out loud!

  I started to help Steph clean up after dinner, but she wouldn’t let me, insisting that I go with Hollywood to “relax and enjoy the ride.” She always referred to him as Hollywood; I guessed that was because that was how she was introduced to him. In all honestly, I had been too, but when a guy tells you to call him by his name in the middle of the best orgasm of your life, you call him by his name. At Steph’s phrase, I saw Mason waggle his eyebrows, and I knew what kind of “ride” he was thinking of. My eyes rolled at his craziness, but truthfully, I felt a little thrill go through me at the thought of both kinds of “rides.”

  Yeah, there was still a bit of that wild child in me. Who we were deep in our soul didn’t change no matter how hard we tried to subdue it.

  Steph loaned me a leather jacket since it had cooled off quite a bit after the sun went down, and Mason and I went out to get on the bike. Several of the guys I was with in college had bikes, so I was no stranger to riding, but it had been awhile, and I was a little nervous. Not to mention, the thought of him being between my legs? Oh damn, that was not a good place for my mind to go while I needed to be paying attention so I didn’t fall off the damn bike.

  Mason’s bike was gorgeous, I had to admit. It was a metallic black with saddle bags that were the same color and a fancy “dashboard” looking thing. I was sure all this stuff had a name, but I wasn’t up on my motorcycle lingo. He pulled a half helmet—I knew its name because I remembered one of my ex’s talking about the difference between a full-face and a half helmet. See? I wasn’t totally bike stupid. As he started the bike up, music began to play, and I laughed because it was Metallica’s “Unforgiven II,” and I thought of the shirt I had put on. Mason looked at me in question.

  “What’s so funny?”

  Pointing at my shirt, I smiled, watching him read my shirt as I was zipping up the borrowed jacket.

  “Yeah, you have nice tits,” he said, and I couldn’t help but laugh. I gave him a playful punch in the arm, and he motioned for me to climb on as he continued to laugh. Shithead.

  Some things really were like riding a bike, I guess. No pun intended. Climbing on the bike felt natural, like I had done it all my life. He didn’t have a backrest for me, so I had to scoot forward and wrap my arms around his waist. Of course, this pressed my boobs up against his back and my crotch against his ass, not that I could think of a nicer ass to be up against.

  Stop it, Becca, you slut! Ugh! I was sooooo bad!

  He told me to hang on tight. As we pulled out on to the road and picked up speed, I swore he was intentionally shifting quickly to smash my boobs against him each time. Okay, so I wasn’t really complaining. The wind was cool as it rushed by, and it was definitely warmer snuggled up close to him.

  He never said where we were going, but I didn’t really care. The ride was amazing, and holding his body close to mine was like a little slice of heaven after the magic he had worked on it before dinner.

  He started to slow, and I looked over his shoulder to see where we were. We had turned off into a park by the lake and followed the narrow road around the lake until we pulled into a parking area, and he backed us up into a spot and shut off the engine. We sat on the bike for a minute listening to the ticking of the engine and enjoying the warmth of the motor and each other before he pulled off his helmet and hung it over his right-hand mirror. It seemed like a good time to climb off, so I did and worked to get the buckle unlatched on my helmet.

  It wasn’t cooperating, and I struggled a little before he reached up to help me. My hands fell to my side, and I took in the details of his face as he focused on the buckle and working the strap loose. He was so damn good looking. It should truly be a sin to look as gorgeous as he did. He had tipped his head to the side and bent down a little to see the buckle under my chin, putting him at eye level with me. His lashes were obscenely thick and long, his lips were firm but full, and his jaw was strong, slightly square and had a darker five o’clock shadow coming through. There was a thin scar that cut through his left eyebrow, and I wondered how he had acquired it.

  He must have felt my scrutiny of his face because he looked into my eyes as he lifted the helmet from my head, and we just stood there for a moment considering each other while he held the helmet in one hand. He took a deep breath and grabbed my hand as he set my helmet on his bike and led me toward the lake. Just the touch of his hand to mine sent tingles of awareness through my body. It was like electric currents fired from his fingers to mine. He led me over to a little shelter with a couple of picnic tables looking over the lake. It had one wall blocking the wind and the view from the road, leaving us somewhat secluded.

  Mason climbed up to sit on the top of the picnic table and reached out a hand to pull me up with him to sit between his legs. After I got settled, he wrapped his arms around me and rested his chin on my shoulder. His scent invaded my senses as we sat quietly. We stayed that way for a while and watched the moonlight as it reflected on the water. Between the breeze and fish out on the lake, it created small waves and ripples so the lake appeared to be glittering. The night was quiet, with only the rustle of the breeze blowing through the trees, the chirp of crickets, and small animals scurrying in the distance.

  “Becca, I needed to talk to you away from Steph and Reaper. Look, I know things went to shit in Vegas. It was just a real punch to the gut to find out I was the ‘other guy.’ There are things about that… well, it’s a long story.” He took a deep breath. “You said you didn’t want to talk about it, but I need to know. I honestly don’t know what this is between us, or how long it will last, but I don’t want you to go back to him. Stay here with me. See where this goes—no strings, we just see what happens. Right now, I just don’t think I can let you go… and the thought of you being with anyone else fills me with an indescribable fury. It makes me feel like I’m completely out of control, and dammit, I have tried so damn hard to get you out of my head for months. You have no idea. I don’t understand it, but I think if you left right now, I may just cease to exist. God, that sounds cheesy… Please don’t think I’m crazy, because I’m not a pussy, but I guess I feel pretty fucking possessive of you, whether it makes sense or not.”

  His words caught me completely off guard as I never expected to hear that from him. My heart lurched and my breath felt wedged in my throat. In all the time I had been with Trevor, he had never said such candid things to me. Then it clicked in my head… he thought Trevor and I were still together.

  Turning my head and upper body to look at him, I reached up to take his face and look him in the eyes. His scruff was prickly against the soft palms of my hands, and I rubbed my thumbs against it, hearing and feeling the rasp as each hair crossed my skin. “Mason, Trevor and I aren’t together anymore. I had told him things were over before I left for Vegas. I wasn’t with him when you and I were together there. He didn’t want to hear it, and he pressured me into staying in the house to ‘work things out’ after I got back. But in the end, I couldn’t stay with him, because I just knew it wasn’t going to work. I moved out months ago. Then I came up here to get away from some stupid crap that happened, not just to visit. I don’t know how long I’ll be staying, but I can’t go back yet. I don’t want to go back yet, if ever.”

  His eyes seemed to darken at my admission and his lips parted slightly. His fingers wove through my hair as he grasped it tight to tip my head closer to him. I couldn’t help leaning
in to him, even with his hand guiding my head. It was like his lips and body were magnets and I was under their pull. My heart lurched when my lips encountered his, and it felt like a thousand butterflies fluttered in my stomach. He tasted like heaven and what started as a gentle meeting evolved quickly into a passionate battle to consume each other.

  When her lips touched mine after she told me she wasn’t with Trevor, I lost all thought and pulled her up until she was straddling my lap. The chemistry between us was off the charts. Whatever was between us was strong as fuck. No other woman had ever affected me like this. Becca was straight-up under my skin. She had crept into my head months ago, and I couldn’t get her off my mind no matter how hard I tried. She crept into my very dreams at night. She was becoming as vital as the air I breathed. And that scared the shit out of me.

  My hands slipped up under the back of her shirt, and I unhooked her bra before resting them on the silky skin of her back. The heat of that satiny skin against my hands felt like an inferno. She ran her arms around my waist and mimicked my movements by running them up under the back of my shirt. Her lips tasted sweet like the frosting on the cake she had made. Taking her bottom lip with my teeth, I drew it into my mouth and suck gently before moving to kiss along the line of her jaw.

  She pressed into me, chest to groin, with a quickly inhaled breath that escaped her lips again in a soft moan. My cock was pressing painfully at the zipper of my jeans, and her grinding against it was bordering on painful but so incredibly arousing I didn’t want her to stop. She was pushing me toward insanity, and if I didn’t bury my cock in her soon, I might embarrass the shit out of myself. This was happening tonight come hell or high water. She then pulled her body back a little and her hand reached between us. When her nails ran over my jeans from the base of my cock to the tip before she curved her hand around it and squeezed, I groaned in desperation.

  Fuck me.

  “Becca, I need to be inside you. Now. But I need to be sure you’re wanting the same thing. If not, I think we need to leave and I need to take you back before this actually kills me.” When she unbuttoned my jeans and lowered the zipper, I grabbed her wrist in my hand. “I need you to say it, Becca. I need you to tell me what you want. There cannot be any doubts or questions, baby. Not this time. I need to know it’s just me and you, and we both want this.” She looked me dead in the eye and the words that came out of her mouth nearly made my eyes roll in my damn head.

  “Hollywood, I want you to fuck me. I want you to bury your cock in me over and over. I want to feel you come in me as I squeeze your cock with my pussy. Is that clear enough?” Jesus Christ. Clear enough? Shit, I felt like she drew me a fucking picture, and what a picture it was. Holy hell.

  I rolled her over so she was laid out on the tabletop. My jeans rested low on my hips unzipped and unbuttoned thanks to her hands, but I wanted her out of hers. Her boots came off first, and I dropped them haphazardly to the ground. Her jeans were next. There was no patience or carefully sliding them off. They pulled off inside out, and I dropped them to the ground with her boots. Leaning over the table, I ran my hands up the outside of her thighs and buried my face in the lace of her panties, biting her clit through the lace and inhaling the scent of her arousal. When I pushed them to the side and ran my tongue along her slit, she dug her fingers in my hair, pulling me closer.

  Her panties slid down her thighs in a rush as I needed to see and taste her unobstructed. My tongue circled her clit before I grabbed it with my teeth and flicked it back and forth with the tip of my tongue. She thrashed and moaned as I slipped two fingers in her slick, wet, heat without letting go of her clit. I knew exactly how to curl my fingers to make her come for me, and I was relentless in my assault on her body and senses. She tensed under me, and her thighs tightened around my head. It didn’t matter if it was too much; I pushed her legs open again with my shoulder and my other hand, preventing her from escaping my tongue and fingers. This time, I was intent on driving her over the edge until she essentially fell apart in my hands.

  She screamed my road name as I felt her pussy clamp down tight on my fingers. “Mason. Goddammit, call me Mason when we’re like this,” I heard myself growl into her. I fucking loved that I made her brain scramble, but I wanted the sound of my actual name on her lips as she uttered it in the flood of intense pleasure I had created in her.

  She was so damn responsive. Her fluids ran out on my hand as she continued to spasm around my fingers. I continued to stroke her, drawing out her climax as long as I could, pressing kisses to her curls and her belly. Working my way up her body, I pushed her shirt and bra up over her glorious chest. My tongue ran around her belly button and across her ribs until I reached the bottom curve of her breasts. Harder than I intended, I nipped the bottoms, leaving slight pink marks in my wake. God, she had amazing tits.

  Suckling one taut nipple, I rolled the other between the thumb and forefinger of my free hand. With the stimulation to both her nipples and her core, she was on sensory overload. Her breaths came in short pants, and she moaned my name once again as I lightly ran my teeth across the nipple I had been suckling.

  “Jesus, Mason. I need to feel you. Please.” When she whimpered those words, I lost control, hauling her to the end of the table and flipping her over. I pulled out my cock and stroked it a few times with the wetness she had left on my hand before I pushed just the tip into the tight core of her warmth. My other hand stroked her ass before I gripped her hips with both hands. The end of my cock teased her soaking wet pussy by slipping in and out. She cried out in frustration at my teasing actions.

  “Tell me how you want it,” I rasped.

  “I need you, Mason, hard. Now, dammit. Fuck me! Please!” As I drove myself deep into her pussy until my balls hit against her clit, she gasped. My eyes rolled into the back of my head and my knees nearly buckled as her hot sheath tightened around my cock. Fucking A, she was so damn tight I almost lost my shit right then and there. I found myself trying to think of random boring shit just to keep me from blowing my load prematurely.

  “Fuck, Becca. Hold still for a second, or this is going to end way too soon.” My words were gravely, I knew, and I could barely form a coherent thought. She lay over the table, her forearms and head resting on the table as she panted and moaned. Shit, she was going to kill me. It took everything I had to gather up any vestige of control. When I finally felt like I could move without emptying into her immediately, I slid in and out, building up a steady rhythm. During an outward stroke, I dipped my fingers into her slick wetness, coating them before I circled her puckered ass and slipped the tip of one finger in. “This will be mine soon too,” I whispered in her ear. She gasped, and I felt her tighten around me.

  “Harder.” Fuck. Hell, yeah, I could accommodate. Slamming into her until my balls were slapping against her and her tits were bouncing, I listened to her grunts and whimpers of pleasure with each thrust. Her body tensed and her sheath became slightly tighter, telling me she was so very close. I reached around, and my fingers circled her clit at a rapid pace, encouraging her to come with me. The other hand grasped her breast, squeezing her nipple between my fingers. My balls tightened up, and I knew I didn’t have much time left.

  “Come, Becca. Come now. I’m not going to last much longer, baby.” No sooner had I made the request than I felt her hot pussy clamp down viciously tight on my cock, and she screamed my name for the second time that night, but this time it was my actual name… That did me in. Two more thrusts, and I felt my cum explode from my cock and fill her. She continued to squeeze my cock with the spasms of her orgasm, milking every last drop from me until I thought I was going to pass out.

  Jesus H. Christ. She was too damn much.

  Lying across her back for a moment to get my breath, I pressed my lips to the heated skin of her back. She shivered and moved to stand. My arms held her tight to me as we stood, desperately trying to gain control of our breathing. With my cock still nestled within her wet warmth, I buried my nose
in her deep red hair and inhaled the fresh scent of her, feeling like I would never get enough of this woman. She was doing crazy things to my mind, body, and heart—all the things I never thought I would want. She whimpered as I slipped out in a flood of our mixed fluids.

  “You. Are. Mine. Stay with me, Becca. Please, don’t go…” Though I meant them to be a demand, my words were a murmured plea, as if they slipped uncontrolled from deep in my soul.

  SEX WITH MASON WAS mind-blowing and shook me to my core. Never in my life had I been left feeling completely satiated, yet wanting more. He just made me feel things no one else ever had. In his arms, I felt wanton. On the other hand, I also felt protected and cherished, like I was precious and desired. Shit, what was I going to do when he decided he had enough of me? He just wasn’t the type to settle down for long.

  He’d said he wanted us to see where this… whatever it was… between us, went. However, it seemed as if he thought it was a feeling that we would grow out of or grow tired of. Standing here in the moonlight, wrapped up in his arms, I knew my heart was not coming away from this relationship unscathed. I foolishly cared about him too much already. He wanted me to be addicted to him and his body; well, he got his wish. Just the thought of him walking away was ripping at my heart and making me ache where we had been joined mere moments before. After he was done with me, I knew I would be completely shattered. And walk away, he would. Guys like him just weren’t the commitment type. He wanted me to be his, but I doubted he meant forever.

  The best thing I could do was cordon off my heart. What I needed to do was tell myself we would just enjoy each other and the sexual chemistry for as long as it lasted. Yeah right. Hopefully, after it ended and I went home again, I would wrap up moments like this and relive them when I was alone. What I needed to do and what would actually happen were probably two different things. My hands moved back and forth from his wrists to his elbows, feeling the hills and valleys of his defined muscles in his forearms. He squeezed me tighter, kissing the top of my head. This was the stuff dreams were made of, and I prayed it didn’t end in a nightmare for my heart. Speaking of my heart, it lurched at the feel of him burying his nose in my hair and inhaling deeply.