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I come with a moan, body arching into his as he groans in contentment, his hands delivering pleasure to my body like I’ve never felt before. It’s like he knows exactly where to touch me. He knows how hard I like it. He knows not to stop as I writhe in his arms, his rough voice telling me to keep my hands where they are even as they drift closer to the edge of the counter.
He whispers dirty words in my ear, calls me a good girl, tells me to keep grinding on his hands. He tells me to use his fingers as much as I need to, tells me how good and perfect and sweet I feel. His words send another wave of heat through my thighs and stomach, and I do just as he says. I grind against his palm, ride his fingers, use his hands to take what I need until I’m mad with the feel of it.
And when I feel my orgasm fading, Mac growls in satisfaction. It feels so good I can hardly breathe.
“That’s my girl,” he rasps, his chin over my shoulder as he, too, watches his hand moving inside my pants.
It’s only when I soften and squeeze my thighs that he pulls his fingers out of me, and the resulting emptiness makes me ache for something bigger.
Yes, I want him. I don’t know if I’ll ever get enough of him.
And maybe it’s that feeling of being drunk on pleasure that makes me spin in his arms, that makes me kiss him once, then reach for his belt. Maybe it’s my newfound freedom, this recklessness pulsing through my veins.
Mac wraps me in his arms and kisses me deep, sweeping his tongue into my mouth as a shudder wracks his body. “You’re so fucking beautiful, Trina. I could watch you come a hundred times and never get sick of it.”
I’ve never had a man be so selfless with pleasure. Mac hasn’t even touched himself. He hasn’t asked me to touch him. He’s been hard since we sat down at the pottery wheel, but all he’s wanted to do is touch me.
It makes me want to return the favor. I want him to feel as good as I do. I want to see his face when he comes. I want him to be wild with pleasure, to feel reckless and out of control with lust.
And when I lower myself to my knees, Mac’s breaths grow shorter. “Trina, you don’t have to—”
“I want to.” And it’s the truth. I open his belt and unbutton his fly, tugging the zipper down with trembling hands.
He helps me push his pants and underwear down to mid-thigh, then grips his shaft in a hand as it bounces free.
Turns out yes, it’s beautiful. And yes, it’s big.
It’s a funny twist of fate that my ex-husband does, in fact, pop into my head for a brief moment as I reach to finally wrap my fingers around Mac’s hardness. I realize that I never once wanted to take Kevin in my mouth. I did it, but I didn’t particularly enjoy it. He made me feel like I owed it to him. Like it was his right.
This is different. Mac brushes his hand over my cheek as he releases a breath. I glance up at him, and the look in his eyes makes me feel like the sexiest woman in the world. His eyes are at half-mast, dark with pleasure as he watches me bring my mouth to his cock.
“Hands on the counter,” I tell him with a grin, my lips brushing against his tip.
“Trina.” He lets out a little huff, but does as I say. Both hands rest on the workbench on either side of my head, then I wrap my lips around his cock and suck.
By the time I’ve run my hands over his shaft a few times and taken him as deep into my mouth as I can manage, I realize I’m wet again. I glance up at him and see him watching me, the look on his face telling me he’s nearly undone. The muscles of his arms are hard and bulging as he grips the edge of the counter, his hips moving with slow, steady thrusts as I take him in my mouth.
I’ve never felt so in control. So sexy. I’ve never been so turned on by doing something like this, but I can’t help the way my hips rock in time to his.
“Touch yourself,” Mac growls, as if he can tell how wild this is making me. As if he doesn’t want me to spend one minute without feeling good.
I only hesitate for a second. With one hand wrapped around his shaft as my tongue laps up the salty taste beading at his tip, I slide my other hand between my legs. And that’s when the control Mac had been keeping on himself snaps. He thrusts his hips as he moves a hand to the back of my head, hard enough to make my eyes water but not hard enough to hurt. His hand tightens in my hair as I touch myself, drunk on the taste of him, the knowledge that he’s watching me pleasure myself while I pleasure him.
When he tells me he’s about to come, he tries to pull away but I just suck him deeper. He pants my name in a way that makes me moan around the shaft in my mouth. His hands tighten at the back of my head, then his hips still as he throbs against my tongue.
I come as he does, my hand moving almost frantically between my legs as he spurts onto my tongue, down my throat, the salty, musky taste of him driving me wild.
Never in my life have I enjoyed doing this. Never have I ever been turned on by swallowing a man’s pleasure. Never in my life have I brought myself to orgasm while I was on my knees like this.
But it feels right with Mac. Right and so, so dirty. I cry out, the sound muffled by him, my body bucking until finally I pull away, releasing him from my mouth with a soft pop.
Mac picks me up with one swift movement, wrapping me up in his arms and burying his face in the crook of my neck. I cling onto his hard biceps, breathing hard, the remnants of my orgasm still sending spears of heat through my thighs and stomach.
He says my name again, his arms trembling as he wraps them around my limp body. Mac kisses me then, and it feels nothing like our other kisses. It’s not feral and needy. It’s tender, but still hard and hot and wet. It’s like he’s trying to tell me how much he loved what we just did. Like he can’t get enough of the taste of me.
When we finally fall apart, I lean against that famous workbench and stuff my breasts back into my bra. The coveralls are still hanging off my hips and my pants are undone. My sheer blouse is half-off, revealing one shoulder. Mac has clay all over his shoulders and hair. I’m sure I do too.
I watch him lift his boxer-briefs back up, followed by his pants. He leaves them undone as he lets out a long breath and lifts his eyes to meet mine. “Well,” Mac says with a twitch of his lips.
