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Then one by one, he put his fingers in his mouth and licked them clean.
I had no chance to respond to how fucking hot that was because his mouth was on mine by the time my brain had formed words.
There was nothing nice or friendly about this kiss. It was pure desire, and I succumbed to it and him entirely. My body melded around his like it was made to be there, and he easily guided himself inside me.
It was all hunger, all desperation and neediness. Mason slid his hands up my arms and, once again intertwining our fingers, he pinned my hands to the bed.
I arched my back as he moved inside me, bringing me dangerously close to the edge of an orgasm. I was stuck in place, almost entirely at his mercy. He buried his face in my neck, kissing and nipping at my skin between heavy breaths.
Everything built at once. The heat, the adrenaline, the endless waves of uncontrollable pleasure that touched every inch of my body without apology.
I was consumed by him. By this feeling. Every gasp and every shiver and every moan that escaped my parted lips was a freaking prayer and plea.
A prayer that this wouldn’t be the last time I’d feel this way, a plea that he wouldn’t stop right now until I was ready.
He didn’t. He raised his head, pushing my hands further into the bed, driving his cock deeper inside me.
And I came undone.
It hit me like a firework, an insane explosion of endorphins that did more than consume me. It enveloped me, enthralling me with its intensity, leaving me capable of nothing but moans and muscle clenches and heavy breaths and incoherent gasps of his name.
His hit him, too. Maybe hard, maybe not, I just didn’t know. I was so wrapped up in the fog of my own release that, for a moment, I was sure I’d forgotten my own name.
Isabel?
Iris?
Who knew?
Not me.
Mason released my hands, uncurling his fingers from mine, and slumped down. He held most of his weight off to the side, and for that, I was grateful. I really didn’t feel like having to control my own lungs and not suffocate from his body weight.
“That was fun,” I breathed after a moment.
He turned his head, burying his face in my neck, and laughed. “I agree.”
I blew out a long breath. “Okay, Jesus, get off me, I can’t breathe.”
Another laugh escaped him. He slowly pushed up onto his hands and shifted back, pulling out of me. I moved up the bed and propped myself up onto my elbow, thankful for him grabbing a towel from the bathroom next door and throwing it on top of me.
I stuck it between my legs with the dignity of a skinned cat and hobbled into the bathroom after him. He laughed when he saw me, but I flipped him the bird and wiped myself clean, then sat on the toilet.
Mason stopped and stared at me.
“Can I help you?” I asked.
“Are you going to pee in front of me?”
“I am if you don’t get out of the bathroom.”
“It’s my bathroom.”
“And I have to pee,” I replied. “Unless you want to pay for the antibiotics for the inevitable UTI I’m going to get.”
He stopped, his hand around his half-limp dick. “I admit that I forgot how annoyingly pragmatic you are after sex.”
I shrugged. “A post-sex pee is absolutely necessary, thank you very much. If you don’t like it, you know where the door is.”
“Yes, it’s my bathroom.”
“And this isn’t the first time in my life I’ve ever peed in front of you,” I reminded him dryly. “Granted, I was drunk that time, but—oh, my God, can you stop watching me? I can’t pee under pressure.”
“You came in here.” He fought back his laughter. “I was here first.”
“Oh, my God, Mason, it’s not a competition!” I placed one hand over my eyes. “I can’t look at you, and God knows I can’t sidle home like a cheap hooker because Grandma is probably waiting to see if this is just for one night.”
“She’s going to harass you anyway.”
“Yes, but I don’t want to be harassed while I’m half-covered in your sweat!”
“On the bright side, you could be half-covered in something else of mine.”
I dropped both my jaw and my hand. “Oh, my God!” I grabbed a spare toilet roll and threw it at him. “Was that necessary?”
“Do you need to keep invoking a deity? Last I checked, he frowned on sex before marriage.”
“He had a virgin impregnated. He doesn’t get to take the moral high ground here.”
“He’s God. He is the moral high ground.”
“Then my pre-marital sex isn’t an issue, is it?”
“You have some weird logic, Imogen.” Mason shook his head and slung the towel he was holding over the side of the tub. “You want a snack?”
