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Shit, shit, shit, she shouldn’t be doing this. Not with him. A total dickface and her fucking boss. Why had she goaded him to keep going when he tried to stop? Why couldn’t she ever just keep her big mouth?—
“Oh my God!” she screamed when he brought the spoon up between her legs, landing soundly on her clit.
She couldn’t stop moaning and her heart fucking raced and sweet fucking Jesus, if he didn’t fuck her soon, she would die.
“Finally,” Mason said with a frustrated sigh. Then with the swish of a zipper and rustle of cloth, he pushed into her, and holy mother of God, she hadn’t been fucked in so long.
“Holy shiiii—” She caught herself at the last second.
Apparently not quickly enough. Mason grabbed a fistful of her hair and yanked, arching her head backward. “What have I told you about your language?”
“I’m sorry, Sir.” Fuck, why did it feel so good to call him that? “I’ll try harder, I promise.” She’d promise him anything to ensure he didn’t stop fucking her.
With a rumble of approval, he released her hair and took firm hold of her ass, prying her cheeks apart. Good God, he’d be able to see everything from back there. Shouldn’t she be mortified? This was a near stranger. Her fucking boss.
Yet her pussy clenched tighter around him, and a mangled, “Please,” tumbled from her lips.
Mason drew back his hips slowly before slamming back in. Again and again and again, the force of it crushing her upper thighs against the edge of the countertop, eventually drawing a pained cry out of her.
For one horrifying moment, he stopped. “Are you?—”
“Mason, I swear to God, if you stop now, I’ll literally die.”
That was all the permission he needed. He fucked her into the countertop like his life depended on it, each harsh stroke sending her higher and higher. When he wrapped an arm around her hips, reaching in to pinch her clit, she completely fucking exploded. If her scream didn’t wake the whole house, she didn’t know what would.
Mason pulled out of her at the last second, snatching a hand towel off the counter. With his weight lifted, she finally managed to slide off the island and back to her feet. When she turned, Mason stood tall and proud in the middle of the kitchen, his head thrown back as his body jerked with his orgasm.
God, he was glorious. She’d never seen anything sexier in her whole life.
It took a long time for their breathing to return to normal. Only then did Mason slowly open his eyes, as if coming out of a trance. His gaze lowered to where his hand still held the towel around his cock, and he stared for several seconds before finally letting go.
Mason opened his mouth to speak, but closed it again without making a sound. After only a few more awkward seconds, he set his clothes to rights, and she hurried to do the same. God, her new co-workers could walk in any second. She needed to get her shit together here.
“Mason, I?—”
He stalked out of the kitchen without a word, the towel clenched in one fist.
“Fuck,” she muttered as the door swung back and forth on its two-way hinges.
Somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew they just crossed several lines. Hell, they leapt so far past the lines, they weren’t even visible anymore.
She let her sort-of boss spank her. And fuck her without protection.
In the kitchen, for fuck’s sake. On the very same counter holding the ingredients for her scones.
Talk about a health code violation.
Given his reaction at the end, he also clearly knew the whole thing was fucked with a capital F.
That didn’t stop her from loving every goddamn second of it.
When she was absolutely sure Mason wasn’t coming back, she reached around with both hands, rubbing at her still-throbbing ass. Unable to help herself, she squeezed, closing her eyes at the sharp spike of exquisite pain.
In that moment, Addison was absolutely certain of two things.
One, Mason St. John was an asshole of the first order who she needed to avoid like the motherfucking plague.
And two, she wanted to fuck him again so badly she could hardly even see straight.
