Resolution (Mason Family 5)

“This was so worth it.” I groan, lifting my hips up and down. I stroke his cock with my pussy and watch him struggle not to come apart.

“So worth what?”

I grin, my eyes fluttering closed. “Dealing with your bullshit.”

The vibrations in his chest rumble against my palms. He slides his hands down my sides and squeezes my ass cheeks.

I move up and down faster, grinding harder at the bottom. Each plunge on his length brings me closer to the climax I’ve been so desperately chasing.

“I think you’re the one dealing bullshit.” His words are difficult to decipher through his gritted teeth. “But, fuck, it might be worth it.”

“It might be?” I flash him a look and move my knees until I’m squatting. “Really?”

He shrugs. “I’ll let you know when we’re—holy shit!”

I giggle as I drop my weight quickly, plunging him into me without warning. He grips my hips, his eyes going wide before a slow, sinful smirk graces his lips.

“Hell, woman,” he says, surprised.

I swirl my hips. “Do you like that?”

“Yes, please.”

I raise myself until he’s nearly all the way out of me and then drop back onto him in one swift glide.

He calls out, his fingers burning into my skin.

I adjust my feet and steady myself and pump him in and out of me.

The contact is out of this world. His reactions are even better. It takes a couple of minutes before I’m clawing at his shoulders, begging myself not to come.

“Wade …” I pant as a five-alarm fire spreads through my body. It starts in my core and roars through me with an intensity I’ve never felt before. My stomach coils and then recoils as I get close to the edge. “I can’t do this much longer.”

“Good. Because I can’t either.”

I open my eyes long enough to see him watching me. And that’s it—the straw that breaks my orgasm.

“Wade!” I shout, trying with everything that I have to keep moving. A flurry of glitter infiltrates my eyes as my body begins to shake. “I can’t—oh my gosh!”

I can barely register his hands urging me up and down. The bite of his fingernails. The pain of his grip.

When I can’t move again, he flexes his hips into me as he stiffens and finds his own release.

A bead of sweat dots his forehead as his head tilts back against the chair. His cock pulses inside my body as he groans in pleasure.

I pant as he opens his eyes and releases my hips. He, too, struggles to catch his breath.

“Damn, Dara,” he says, his disbelief ending in a chuckle.

“Damn you too.”

I start to climb off him, but he stops me. He stares at me for a long second before pressing a lingering kiss to my shoulder and then helping me up.

Something in my chest blossoms. Even though I pay it no attention, I know it’ll be there for me to worry about later. But it’ll only get in the way for now, so I push it to the back of my mind.

Wade slips off his condom.

“What now?” I ask, looking for my dress in case this gets awkward.

To my surprise, he shrugs. “Shower sex?”

As my lips form a smile, his do too. Beautiful man.

“I like shower sex,” I say.

He picks me up and throws me over his shoulder.

I yelp. “Hey!”

He smacks my bare bottom. “Don’t act like you don’t like it.”

All I can do is laugh.

Because of course I like it. I think I might like everything with him.

TWENTY-SEVEN

WADE

Well, fuck.

Dara sighs. A sweet little breath of air blows across my chest.

Her arm dangles over my stomach, and her ankle crosses mine beneath the blankets. I’m acutely aware of her breasts as they press against my side because they move each time she breathes.

I try to reconcile having her here. In my home. In my bed.

I’m not an idiot, just a fool.

The events that led to this moment are fuzzy. I asked her to come home with me. I remember that. I also recall this … need … to bridge the ravine between us—never mind that I’m the one who dug it. And I’d be lying if I said that her body in that dress wasn’t eating at my resolve to do the right thing and stay away from her.

I glance down at her still, peaceful face. My chest constricts.

What are you doing, Wade?

I rough the hand that’s not curled around her over my chin. Then I run it over my forehead. And then rub it against my temple.

This is wrong, so very fucking wrong.

That’s what logic says, and logic is king.

I groan as the reality of the situation hits me like a ton of bricks. This isn’t some broken rule or a way to protect myself. My avoidance of her in any meaningful way is for her own good.

So why am I allowing this to happen?