“In the meantime though, you have my permission to have sex with the man.”
“Oh, I was waiting for your permission?” I teased. She turned her nose up and feigned sass.
“No, but you could certainly use my very valid opinion, which is that he’s more than proved he cares about you and isn’t trying to buy sex from you. Whatever’s going on between you guys definitely equals at least three dates in real life now, and as you know, that is the ma
gic number you wait till you have sex with someone, so… have sex with him. You know you want to.”
I pressed my palms hard against the heat of my mug. “I do,” I groaned, flashing back to that morning I woke up in Mason’s bed and got to watch him walk around in just a towel. God, those fucking abs. Those hipbones. They were cut so deep, a perfect V that teased me like two arrows pointing furiously at the main attraction. God, I wanted so badly to finally just touch that main attraction.
“Taylor. For the tenth time – inappropriate for you to make these sex faces in front of me.”
I caught myself quickly. “I was definitely doing it that time,” I admitted sheepishly. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. Just give yourself the relief of having actual sex with him so I don’t have to see you look at squirmy and tortured.”
“Noted,” I said, my cheeks burning at the mere thought of allowing myself to sleep with Mason. Heat flashed all throughout me as I imagined how it’d feel to have the weight of his body on mine, both of us undressed, skin touching skin.
The image refused to leave my head that night when Mason came to my apartment. It was late, nearly midnight and we’d both had long days, so we sat together on my couch with a bottle of wine, the dinner he brought and a movie we weren’t quite watching on TV. Our energy was low but the air between us was still thick, still buzzing with the tension of sex, desire and the words we were either too tired or wary to say. I was amazed by how hot it felt despite the languid quiet – how the sleepiness in the room managed to put more heat in every word he spoke, every look we exchanged.
I wasn’t sure when or how it started – it probably had to do with him being so visibly tired from work – but I gave him a massage. I’d always given them to Aaron but they always felt somewhat like chores. I could never strike the balance of “not too hard” or “not too soft” with him and there were always too many sudden yelps of, “Ouch!” for it to ever feel erotic.
But Mason was a completely different story. Obviously. He gladly absorbed every ounce of strength from my hands and long fingers as I sat behind him, my legs wrapped around his waist and the heels of my palms sliding up his back. I was sure I was enjoying myself as much as he was, memorizing his every rock-hard ridge and muscle with a hot arousal that mounted by the second. He knew it too, because with every grunt that escaped his throat, my thighs pumped around him. I couldn’t help it. There was just something so primal, so masculine and sexy about the sound – I’d never heard it before and the fact that I brought it out of him had my panties saturating quickly, my body writhing and twisting between his back and the couch.
His shirt eventually came off. Eventually, we moved from the couch to the bed I hadn’t touched in months – the one I had shared for years with his brother. I had Mason lay in it now as I straddled the small of his back, rubbing his shoulders, in awe of the fact that he had his head resting on my pillow – that my hands were tracing the lines of his body and giving him so much pleasure that he was groaning deep, the sounds awakening every unfulfilled need in my body.
“Turn over,” I whispered to him. When he did, I breathed out a moan, his erection hot and hard under my pussy, swelling and straining against his pants as I continued to straddle and massage him. I rested my hands just below his collarbones and worked my fingers over the tension, wishing I could consume the delicious groan that thundered from the depths of his chest.
“Christ, that feels incredible,” he murmured as I worked my way to his shoulders. As I massaged them, I rocked my hips gently, slow and first then gradually faster till I knew I had his cock as hard as it could possibly get. His eyes wanted to be closed, I could see that, but Mason opened them, lifting his head just enough to watch me riding him. “Fuck,” he whispered, his gaze trained on me, lifting slowly from the swivel of my hips to the light bouncing of my breasts as I moved on him. “I could fucking watch this all night,” he murmured, eyes heavy but unblinking.
He eventually found his way on top of me. My legs wrapped around his waist again, he pressed his throbbing arousal against me, thrusting the way his tongue did the same in my mouth. As he explored me in a way he never had before, I felt lost in Mason – like I’d surrendered every part of my body to him. He captured my mouth, filled his hands with my breasts, pinned me to the bed with every push of his hard cock against my pussy. The sounds of our breaths and moans and bodies jostling on the sheets were loud enough for awhile to drown out his phone. He ignored three calls in a row before relenting with an angry “fuck,” climbing off of me and hastily grabbing the phone.
“Ed, talk to me,” he muttered the minute he answered. His eyes remained pinned on me as Ed spoke, and they sparked with a fire as I reached under my leggings and panties to touch myself. Despite the business call, Mason watched me, nodding and encouraging me with a look of lust that thickened as I slowly picked up the speed of my stroke.
“They broke the terms of their contract so we’re by no means obligated to do that. That’s all you need to tell them,” he said, refusing to break his stare from me as I arched my back and let out a moan. “Christ,” Mason cursed in a way that I knew had nothing to do with his call and everything to do with me as I shed my leggings, leaving myself in just my cream lace panties and loose raglan. He couldn’t help but come closer now. His jaw was tight as I stroked faster between my legs now, watching the way his six-pack clenched with every jagged breath, reveling in how incredibly blue his eyes looked as they anticipated me coming
“Yeah. That’s fine. Ed, let me talk to you about this tomorrow.”
The last sentence of conversation Ed subjected Mason to had him clenching his teeth, his stare so heavy between my thighs now that I could practically feel their heat bringing me closer to orgasm. The second Mason hung up he pounced on me, making me shriek in shock and delight as he buried his face in my neck and thrust a hand between my legs.
“Let me hear you come right now,” he growled, cupping my pussy over my panties, fingering between my folds then rubbing my clit so furiously I came within seconds, gasping for breath against his lips as he kissed me with unbridled passion, his fingers tangled in my hair and making a fist that only relaxed once he’d stroked every last aftershock out of my body. Once I was finished, I closed my eyes, raking my fingers through his thick hair as he kissed my breasts over my shirt, brushing his lips along their heavy curves and up my neck till his mouth was back on mine. But he gave me barely two seconds of his gentle kiss before pulling away.
“I should go,” he said.
Despite the bliss of a few seconds ago, my heart dropped. But as I sat up in bed, I didn’t argue, still feeling torturously like it wasn’t my place to. So instead, I sat there, eyes wide and hair rumpled as I watched Mason get dressed and gather his things without looking much my way. Or maybe he did and I just refused to count it because what I wanted was his attention back to being rapt on me, undivided and unblinking. I had been spoiled and now there was no going back – I wanted Mason Leo so fucking badly. I wanted every part of him, and I wanted him to want me.
But as intimate as we’d just been, we were still in some kind of limbo – some agonizing place where I still wouldn’t let myself ask him if anything had changed in our contract. My pride was killing me, and I was letting it.
You don’t have the right to be upset, I reminded myself as I said goodbye to him at the door. He’s not technically yours. But that didn’t stop me from peeking my head out the door to watch him get to the elevators. And it didn’t stop me from smiling when he looked back and with his hands slid in his pockets, tilted his head, returning my gaze for a second before stepping into the elevator and out of sight.
Chapter Fourteen
With two days left before we departed for St. Lucia, Mason’s work schedule grew hectic. I understood fully that running a company of a hundred employees was a real responsibility, so I braced myself to be ignored and tried to take comfort in the fact that the last night we had together still had him sending flirty to filthy texts that made me bite my lip on the couch and look up to realize I had no idea what was happening on TV anymore, because I’d spent so much time smiling like an idiot at my phone.
But my high dampened slightly on Saturday, when Mason texted at night saying he’d yet to leave the office. He still had far too much to get done before the wedding and would have to cancel dinner, marking about sixty hours gone by since he had watched me come on my bed.
Not that I was counting.
But around nine that night, I got another message from him.