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Except I paused, wincing as I remembered, “I’m out of condoms.”
“What?” Horror filled her face.
“But I have more in the glove compartment of my Jeep.”
We both glanced across the room toward the door of the apartment.
“That’s all the way outside,” Reese bemoaned.
We turned back to each other, knowing we’d never last until one of us put clothes back on to run out and fetch more. “I’ll finish you,” I promised, my cock screaming at me the entire time. “Then I’ll go get them.”
But she shook her head. “What about you?”
Yeah, what about me, my cock agreed.
“It’s okay,” I said. But, no, my cock argued, shaking its angry swollen head. It’s not okay at all.
Reese grabbed my wrist, staying me. “No, wait. How about we just take care of each other? You’d never had a blowjob before me, right? So, you’ve probably never sixty-nined, either.”
Oh, damn. I had the best girlfriend in the history of ever.
So that’s when Mason Lowe, the experienced gigolo, underwent his first sixty-nine.
* * *
Saturday faded into Sunday, and with the new dawn, a dose of reality began to intrude into our perfect weekend escape. I’d eventually made my way down to my Jeep, but all the spare condoms I’d had in my glove compartment ran out that morning after I woke Reese to a full-body massage.
Panting and sweating, I rolled off her and stared dazedly up at the ceiling, trying to get my pulse to settle.
Next to me, Reese blew out a breath and wiped her hair out of her face. “Wow. That just never gets old.”
I lolled my head to the side so I could look at her. Still naked with her breasts flushed once again from my beard burn, I realized… We were going to need more condoms. Possibly more food.
Staples for the survival of a weekend of marathon sex: condoms and food.
“I’ll make you a deal,” I said, enjoying the view of her just like that. “If you promise not to move from this spot and stay exactly as you are until I get back, I’ll run out and find us some lattes.”
She closed her eyes and moaned. “Sold.”
So I popped from the bed and searched the floor for my clothes. When I pulled them on, they felt a little funny because it’d almost been a full twenty-four hours since I’d actually worn anything—excerpt for that brief thirty seconds it’d taken me to run out to my Jeep for condoms.
Checking on my girl before I left, I was pleased to find her still sprawled in the tangle of sheets, exhausted and satisfied from my attention.
I grinned over my accomplishments and bent down to give her a goodbye peck, but my insatiable lady wrapped her arms around me, sinking her fingers into my hair and deepened the contact, nipping at my bottom lip as if to entice me back to bed.
Groaning, I crawled back on top of her, still fully clothed, with my shoes on and everything. “So you want to tease, eh?”
“Mmm,” she answered, smiling smugly as if she’d just gotten her way.
My hand wandered down her side as my tongue stroked hers. When I pushed two digits in, her eyes flared and breath puffed from between her damp, swollen lips.
Eyes turning smoky with need, she shook her head. “How the heck do you do that? You can wear me out and wring me dry until I feel like I never want to move again, only to, wham, make one little—Oh, God—okay, make that, one deep stroke, and you light me back up again. How?”
I shrugged, watching her face as my fingers went deeper yet. “Just natural talent, I guess.” Grinning, I asked, “Hey, how fast do you think I can make you come with just three fingers?”
Before she could answer, I used my thumb to massage her clit while the two fingers inside her flexed against her happy spot.
“Mason…Mason,” she chanted. “Oh my God. I can’t…” Her head thrashed, her fingers bit into the sheets, and sweat beaded on her brow.
