Spite Club (Mason Brothers 1)

She stared at me for a second. Shocked, flustered, affronted, turned on.

Then she did it.

I won.

Eighteen

Evie

I wasn’t going to give in. I was going to tell him to stuff it, and then I was going to get dressed and leave, go home and get on with my life without Nick fucking Mason. He deserved it.

Instead, I pulled the blanket off my lap and opened my legs.

Damn it.

I couldn’t really blame myself. Nick without clothes on was a serious sight. All those muscles, that smooth skin. That bad boy tattoo. Those sexy hands, that sexy stomach. His cock was huge and hard for me—I had done that to him. He was leaned forward, prowling over the sofa toward me—there was no other word for it—and my body took over. My brain went stupid and shut up, because my body knew what that cock felt like now, and wanted it again. Again and again and again.

He put his hands on my hips and pulled me forward, scooting my butt down the sofa, making my t-shirt ride up so it showed my belly as I unbalanced backward. He grabbed the backs of my knees and pulled them apart and up, so my knees were bent

below my armpits and I was completely exposed to him. I was panting, and I could feel how wet I was. He would be able to see it, smell it.

What had we been talking about again?

We’d been fighting about something. He’d made me mad about something. Now he was tracing the insides of my thighs, sliding his big hands up toward my pussy, brushing it with his fingers, and I wasn’t mad anymore. All of the energy from the anger had turned into pulsing desire. I wanted to yell at him and I really, really wanted to come. Given the position I was in, I knew which impulse was about to get satisfied.

He hitched his body on the sofa, changing his position, moving his knees back, and then he bent and licked me, fearlessly, along my slit from bottom to top and down again, his tongue slick between my folds.

I let out a shaky breath and made a little mewling sound. He licked me again, going slow—testing, exploring. I could feel it. He was trying things. Figuring out exactly what made me crazy.

It worked. What made me crazy, it turned out, was when he licked down, then up, pressing my clit with the flat of his tongue. It turned out that made me completely fucking wild. I pressed my head back and fought for breath. Twisted my hands on the sofa arm above my head. Pushed my hips up into him. Kicked one of the empty cereal bowls off the coffee table, then tried to squeeze his head between my thighs. He didn’t even care. Just pinned my legs open and kept going, doing exactly the right thing until I went to that place where I was so close… so close… the place where everything stopped, where the world went away and there was nothing except Nick’s tongue, which was the best thing that had ever happened to me. I was, while he held me in that place, completely religious about that tongue.

And then I went over the edge. This orgasm shot up through me like lightning, cracking through my body in a hard flash that made me go silent in shock before I made more embarrassing sounds. A few hard twists and it was gone again, leaving me wrung out and unable to move.

Nick lifted his mouth from me at last. I could feel his breath between my legs. “Jesus, redhead,” he said, his voice strangled and hot. “When you come, you don’t fuck around.”

I had no words to say. I lifted my head and looked at him, braced on his arms over me, his eyes ink-dark again. I had never seen anything so beautiful in my life. He took my breath away.

I pushed myself up on my elbows, then up. And then, struck by a perfect flash of inspiration, I slid down to the floor on my knees.

His eyes widened for a second when he saw my intent. He took me in, on my knees on the floor, taking in every detail of me. “You want to see if I really like blow jobs?” he asked.

“Yes,” I said. “Please.”

He pushed his boxer briefs off and sat up, his knees apart. I moved between them. He pulled his T-shirt over my head and off me, throwing it away as I raised my arms. It was like a practiced dance, neither of us speaking. Naked, I put my hands on his hot, muscled thighs and leaned forward, sucking his cock into my mouth.

He made a low, growly sound, very turned on and male, and the sound made me shiver. I braced myself on his legs and leaned in further, taking him deeper, sucking in the taste of him. He was big and very hard and utterly delicious. I moved my mouth down him, then up, taking him in the way he’d taken me in, exploring his skin, the head, my tongue moving over him. He pulsed in reaction in my mouth.

“Fuck,” he said, trying to hold on.

I decided not to have mercy on him. He didn’t deserve it. My position was perfect for what I wanted to do, so I did it. I gave him head that I hoped he’d never forget.

I took him deep, slowly at first, and then in a rhythm, over and over. I used my tongue on him, my lips. I’d given blow jobs before, but never like this. I was a genius, and Nick’s cock was my area of expertise. In seconds, I knew everything I needed to know about it, every inch of it, every throb of reaction. When it came to Nick’s cock, I was an artist.

I could feel his body tighten, his breathing get shallower. I wondered if he was watching me. He probably was. I pressed him deep into me, until the head of his cock hit the back of my throat, and I felt his hand twist softly in my hair. “Jesus Christ, Evie,” he said in a tone of wonder and appreciation that made me wet again. “Jesus fucking Christ.” I kept at it, relaxing my throat, feeling him thicken in my mouth. This was what he liked, then. Two could play this game.

Seconds later, I evened the score. He came hard in my mouth, his come in hot spurts in my throat as his body pressed up into mine. I swallowed, something I’d never done with any other man before. I’d said he liked it, after all. Time to find out if it was true.

When he’d finished I sat back on my heels, wiping my mouth. My mind spun, but I had no chance to put my thoughts together before Nick was on the floor too, on his knees, his hand on the back of my neck. He pressed my mouth to his, kissing me long and deep. Maybe he tasted the remnants of his own come; I had no idea, but the thought made me even hotter.