Page 61 of Letting Go at 40

His thumbs continue to press into the top of my backside. My body reacts. I lean back.

“Anna,” he warns, as my spine arches, my butt juts toward him.

My hands grasp the post tighter. Whether I’m using the wood as an anchor or an assistance to my desire, I can’t be certain. Either way, I want more from Mason. More of his touch. More of his kisses.

With his hands at my hips, I reach down with shaky fingers and cover one of his wrists. Timidly, I tug his arm forward. His palm skims over my bare belly.

“Mason,” I whisper. My eyes are closed but I’m keen to who is behind me. Who is touching me.

When his nose runs along the side of my neck, I’m aware this isn’t in my head. This isn’t a fantasy or my imagination.

Am I really doing this?

While I’ve argued with myself, stating I don’t want to be another reckless woman to him, my current position suggests how reckless I am. My body is an out-of-control freight train, barreling toward broken tracks. Someone is going to get hurt. I have no doubt it’s me.

Still, I press his hand lower, over the front of my shorts.

“Sweetheart,” he groans, the sound as desperate as I feel. “What are you doing?” The question isn’t really for inquisition. He knows where I’ve led him, and what I’m asking of him.

His mouth is just below the hollow behind my jaw, tickling, teasing. He drags the tip of his nose along the shell of my ear before lowering again, tracing along my neck, up and down. He exhales heavily at my ear, sending a shiver down my spine.

Tears fill my eyes, anticipating his rejection. I shouldn’t be asking this of him.

Then Mason pops the catch on my shorts and lowers the zipper. His breath comes more ragged. The softness of the T-shirt he wore this evening swipes against my back.

“I’d never touch you unless you were mine, but I’ll help you get what I think you need tonight.” In a stealth move, Mason grips the back of my hand and lowers it into my shorts. My fingers quickly find my aching nub. With his fingertips behind my index and middle finger, he manipulates me, applying sweet pressure, moving in tight circles.

“That’s it, sweetheart. Let go.”

I arch again, seeking the hard length in his shorts. He juts his hips backward, keeping his lower region out of reach.

“All for you, sweetheart.” He pauses a beat, running his nose along my neck again. “Do you use the gift I gave you? Does it help take off the edge?”

A hum is my only response.

His mouth is at my ear, the whisper a juxtaposition of warm air and a seductive tone. “I can smell you. Smell how turned on you are.” He inhales, holding his breath. He’s close enough to touch me, to find out for himself how slick I am with need.

What we are doing, how we are doing it, feels a thousand-times wrong, but I can’t stop myself. I’m out of my head, drowning in the moment, soaking up the pressure that will detonate the tension inside me and give me sweet relief.

“Jesus, Anna. You have no idea how badly I want a touch. A taste. A chance.”

My mind leaps to him on his knees before me, mouth wide, tongue eager.

“Oh God,” I whimper, drawing closer and closer to the edge.

“I’ve got you, baby.” His commanding whisper is both fierce and reassuring.

“Mason,” I warn, as I rock against my fingers.

“I’m here, sweetheart. And I want you to drip over your fingers and coat mine. Give me something to think about at night, when I dream of you.”

Does he fantasize about me? He wouldn’t but . . .

“Come on, sweetheart. Let go.” He nips me at that sensitive spot between my shoulder and neck and I detonate in sweet bliss. My legs stiffen. My hand stills. I lean forward, grasping the post before me while gasping for breath while the release washes over me.

Mason slowly lets go of my hand and grips my hip, holding me in place while my body trembles in pleasurable relief. My breathing is uneven. I just need a moment, I think.

Then, damn tears spill from my eyes, and I lower my head again to the ball on the top of the post. Confusion takes over. I’m not certain why I’m crying? Is it the endorphins? Or is there another reason for the salty mess sliding along my nose?