10. Maya
10
Maya
“That’s not what I meant, Maya baby.”
Easton’s blue-eyed gaze is locked on mine where he stares up from between my thighs, on his knees in front of me. Breath is spiraling from between my lips like an F1 is raging in my lungs, because fuck .
He wants to go down on me right now? After he just came inside me?
I’ve never dated any man who was particularly enthusiastic about giving oral in general, let alone after they found their own orgasm. Most of the time, this was the point in the night when they’d turn over and fall asleep, happy to pretend I no longer existed.
“Um… Are you sure?” I ask.
“I don’t think you understand what the sight of my cum dripping from your pussy does to me, Maya. I don’t think you understand how fucking desperate I am to know what we taste like mixed together, because if you did, you wouldn’t be asking me such a ridiculous question right now.”
“Oh.” The word leaves my lips a breathless gasp. I don’t know how else to respond. I’ve never had a man react to me this way before. I don’t know how to comprehend it.
“Can I eat your pussy or not, baby?” Easton’s gaze rapidly darts between my face and my parted legs, damn near panting.
His reaction has me spiraling, a desperate, “Yes,” falling from my lips.
A groan leaves his throat as he spreads my thighs wider. My back arches, body bowing off the bed as I feel his tongue dip into my center, the sensation heightening every molecule in my body.
He drags up my slit, settling over my clit before wrapping his lips around it. He sucks it into his mouth, eliciting sparks low in my belly, flames raging across my flesh. My hands find his hair, tangling through his chestnut brown strands as my hips move against his face, desperate for friction.
“God, Maya,” he moans against me, the vibration causing my toes to curl in my heels. “You taste so good when you’re full of my cum.”
My head falls back against the sheets, a moan crawling out of my mouth at the feel of his words vibrating against my most sensitive place.
I feel him pull back before he says, “Do you want to taste?”
I nod frantically, and I don’t know why. I never thought this would be something I was into, but somehow, with Easton, I want nothing more.
I feel him move down, dipping into my center and lapping the release inside me again. My body tightens around his tongue, desperate for more, but he leaves me feeling empty when he removes himself from between my legs and towers over the bed.
I open my eyes, finding Easton’s arms pressed on either side of my head, his beautiful face hovering above me. He shifts his weight to one arm, using his free hand to grip my chin and open my mouth. “Tongue out,” he demands, words muffled with his mouth full.
I obey, and he mirrors my expression by slipping his tongue between his lips. A thick, white rope of cum drips from his mouth, falling into mine. A heady mix of sweet and salt coats my taste buds as I swallow both our releases.
“What do you think we taste like?” he asks.
“Like two things that shouldn’t go together but do,” I breathe.
His hard expression softens, a near imperceptible up tilt of his lips. “I think we taste perfect together.” He kisses me quickly. “Now, I’m going to devour this pretty pussy of ours, and I want you to ride my face so hard, those heels leave marks in my back. Understood?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Fuck.” He bites his lip, shaking his head as he moves back down my body to his knees. “Yeah, keep calling me that one, wifey.”
Without another word, he dives back between my legs with vengeance, tongue lapping at my clit like a man starved, flicking in quick, circular motions that have my body feeling like it’s floating. I do exactly as he requested, holding his head against my center, grinding my hips over his tongue. My legs are bent at the knees, high in the air to give him better access, and the tips of my heels press deeply into the skin of his back.
My mind goes numb, head spinning, unable to think of anything except chasing that high, finding that cliff, and nosediving right off it into the pits of pleasure. My cries are reaching a crescendo that echoes throughout the dark room, my hands clawing at his head as he continues his relentless pursuit against my clit.
Easton's own moan against my body sends me spiraling, and when he slips two fingers into me, curling upward and pumping at the same tempo his tongue moves against my bud, I’m falling. White light engulfs my vision, and my body goes rigid, fucking soul lifting out of my chest as I’m racketed with wave after wave of endless pleasure.
My body feels frozen as my splintered mind and fractured soul attempt to locate it again, carrying me back to myself. As I float back down to Earth, my senses resurfacing, I become aware of the soft, wet feel of lips moving up my legs. When he presses a kiss to the smattering of hair at the center of my thighs, dragging his mouth up my stomach and across my breasts before reaching my face, I finally find the strength to open my eyes and find Easton’s blue ones blazing back at me.
“Hi, Maya baby.”
I bracket his jaw, brushing my thumb over his short beard. “Hi, pretty boy.”
He smiles, dipping his head so his mouth lands against my palm, kissing it before grabbing me beneath the arms and hauling me into his. He lifts me off the bed, and my heels finally fall from my feet as I wrap my legs around his waist.
I begin to protest, “Easton, I’m too heavy—”
“Shut up.”
He carries me into the bathroom, planting me on the counter before flipping on the light. Both of us squint at the sudden brightness, but I can’t take my eyes off him as he moves to the shower, turning on the water.
“Oh, we don’t have to—”
He turns to me, frowning. “I want to shower with you, Maya.” He brushes my braids over my shoulder before taking my face between his hands. “If I only get tonight, I want to experience it all. With you. I want to wash your body, your hair.”
I huff a laugh. “It’s not a hair wash night.”
“Okay.” He nods with understanding. “Can I still wash your body?”
“This isn’t like…a seductive thing for me, Easton,” I say with hesitation. “I’ve never showered with a man before. Bathing for me is…technical. I have a very specific routine I don’t like to deviate from, and I already did so last night, so I’m all sorts of thrown off already. Plus, I haven’t shaved my armpits in an alarmingly long time.”
“That sounds seductive to me. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
I roll my eyes, snorting a laugh. I don’t know why he makes it feel so fucking easy. Every aspect of intimacy that has frightened the shit out me seems less intimidating and more enticing when Easton Mason is involved.
Slipping off the counter, I wordlessly sort through my bag until I find my pink shower cap. Pulling all my hair over one shoulder and fisting it, I open the cap and drop my braids inside before pulling it up and over my head. It cinches at my hairline, the pink, water resistant fabric hanging at my mid back before I fold it in half and fasten the cap with a button at my forehead.
Turning to face Easton, I ask, “Am I seducing you yet?”
The smile he responds with is brighter than the sunrise. “You’re always seducing me.” He steps toward the shower again. “We can get in now?”
I laugh. “No.” Digging back into my bag, I pull out my exfoliation scrub and body wash, handing them to him. “Put those inside the shower.” As he takes them from me, I turn back to the sink and grab my cleansing balm and cleanser.
“Those too?” he asks, nodding at the products in my hand.
“Nope.” I set them on the counter. “First, I need to take off my makeup, wash my face. Then, I shower. After that, it’s skincare, haircare, moisturizing, and brushing teeth.” Easton flicks a brow, and I toss him a dead-pan expression. “I told you, my night routine isn’t sexy. It’s practical, and I don’t sleep well when I don’t complete it.”
“Maya, baby,” he drawls, grabbing my hips and lifting me onto the edge of the sink. We’re both still completely naked as he steps between my legs, entirely unfazed by it. “First of all, every single goddamn thing about you is sexy to me.” He slides his perfect hands up my sides, studying my body before lifting his gaze to my face. “Secondly, this is a marriage experiment, no? I want to see your nightly routine. I want to see every piece of who you are.”
“It’s vulnerable,” I admit softly, my voice no more than a whisper.
“Your vulnerability is safe with me,” he whispers back, lifting a hand to cup my face.
I nuzzle into the warmth of his palm, offering nothing more than a nod. He must take it as permission, because he grabs my cleansing balm, unscrewing the lid. “This first?”
“Yeah.” I reach out to take it from him, but he rears back, giving me a stern expression.
He dips his finger into the container, holding a dollop out to me. “This much?”
“Yes,” I giggle. “I normally spread it between my two fingers…” I hold my hands out, showing the way I like to spread the product between my pointer and middle fingers. “And then rub small circles over my skin to remove my makeup.”
He nods, following my instructions before gently pressing both hands to my cheeks. He moves over my cheek bones, nose, lips, and forehead while I remind him to be careful of my eyes. He’s grinning the entire time, thoughtfully focused on covering every inch of my face.
His touch is soft, warm, delicate against my flesh, like being wrapped in comfort and care.
Once he finishes, I direct him to wet a soft cloth and wipe the balm off my face before he helps me repeat the process with my cleanser. Afterward, he leads me into the shower, adjusting the temperature of the water to a near-searing heat, even though I can tell he hates it. Easton doesn’t seem to even notice when he’s scrubbing my exfoliator into my skin and washing it off, doing the same with my passionfruit-scented body soap.
I wash him next, and he allows me to tilt his head back, scrubbing shampoo into his soft hair. I take my time with it, massaging his scalp and savoring his presence. I’ve never showered with anyone before, never known it to be something romantic. Something intimate. I don’t know I’ve ever trusted a man the way I trust Easton, and that truth tears through me in equal parts confusion and fascination. I knew him briefly in college, and I didn’t know him at all as an adult, yet somehow, after two days together, I’m terrified to walk back into a life he’s not a part of at all.
After we’re both cleansed, Easton wraps a towel around my shoulders and another at his waist.
“I think there are robes in the closet.” I nod toward the bedroom as I step onto the bath mat.
“Got it.” He darts out of the bathroom, returning a moment later with a robe on a hanger, another on his body. He helps me out of my towel before standing behind me with the robe held open, assisting me as I step into it. “What’s next?”
I laugh, shaking my head. “You don’t need to do this whole thing with me. You can go to bed if you want.”
His brows furrow, blue eyes bright with conviction. “I don’t want to be doing anything else right now.”
Not knowing what else to say, I only nod. “I normally do my hair next.”
“Okay.” He smiles, grabbing my toiletry bag and handing it to me.
“First,” I say, pulling out my scalp toner, “I’m going to spray some of this at my roots and massage it in because my scalp gets dry sometimes—especially today, since I didn’t take care of it last night.”
Easton gently takes the small bottle from my hand. “May I?”
“Sure,” I breathe.
I watch him unscrew the cap, revealing the nozzle at the tip of the bottle. He tilts it upside down and begins raising it toward the top of my head. “Like this?”
“Yeah.” I nod. “Just a few drops around the root of the braids, and I normally massage over the top of my scalp, but gently.”
“Turn around and tilt your head back into my chest,” he says, voice gruff and focused. I listen, feeling the steady wall of his body against my back. I let my eyes fall closed as I feel him drip the toner on my scalp before his hands begin working into the roots of my hair.
He’s so careful, so calm as his fingers press and massage my head. It’s almost as if I can feel the tension and stress melting from my body simply with his breath and the working of his hands. I’ve never allowed a man to do this to me before, never had one ask. I’ve never had anyone care. My throat suddenly feels tight, my eyes stinging, because I don’t know how the fuck I’m going to walk away from this when it’s all over.
“What made you decide to do braids like this?” he asks quietly. “In college, your hair was straight.”
“Yeah,” I say, clearing my throat. “I guess at some point, I realized I was cosplaying who I thought I should be, not who I really am. I needed a change, and I’d always loved this style on other women. After I took the leap and tried it for myself, it was like my insides finally matched the person staring back at me in the mirror.” I shrug. “That’s not to say I won’t try something different at some point, but the braids made me feel like I garnered the courage to actually explore who I really want to be.”
Easton’s hands pause at my words, and he’s quiet for a moment before he firmly says, “They look beautiful on you, and I like who you really are. I think she might be my favorite person.”
My eyes flash open, finding two sapphires blazing down at me. “I like who you are too,” I whisper.
He smiles, and it’s almost sad, before he drops his hands from my head. “Did I do it right?”
I let out a soft laugh. “Yeah. You did great, pretty boy.”
“What’s next?”
I step out of his chest. “I just run some oil and leave-in conditioner through my braids to prevent frizz, then I wrap them.”
I grab the products from my bag and hand them to Easton, showing him how I apply each one. He has me stand in front of him again as he works on my hair. “Don’t you have any kind of routine you do?”
“I mean…not really,” he admits. “My brother-in-law has an intense irrational fear of skin cancer, so he forcibly made me form a habit of putting on SPF every day.”
“That’s smart of him.” I laugh. “I didn’t know one of your sisters got married.”
I remember Easton talking about his two sisters often in college. One of them was only a couple of years younger while the other was still in high school at the time.
“Well, she’s not yet, I guess,” he muses, finishing up my hair. “But it’s coming. Penelope and Carter are…” He trails off, as if struggling to find the words. I step away from him, splitting my hair into two sections and twisting them over and around each other, forming a large bun on top of my head. “They’re different. Brother-in-law is the best way to describe him. That’s what he might as well be at this point.”
I turn to Easton, smiling. “That’s sweet.”
I locate the silk scarf at the bottom of my bag, pink with small hearts all over it. I thought it would be cute for Valentine’s Day, though now, the sentiment feels a little silly.
“Don’t make fun of me,” I murmur as I slip the scarf across the base of my neck, tugging it over my bun, wrapping it around my forehead and tying it at my nape.
Turning around, I find Easton frowning. “Why would I ever make fun of you, Maya?”
I can’t help the smile that springs to my cheeks. “I bought it for Valentine’s Day.”
His eyes snap to the top of my head, and I watch as an effortless grin takes over his face. He surges forward, his hands bracketing my hips as he lifts me back onto the counter. Easton’s mouth falls on mine, lips soft and smooth. “I love it. Very fitting.” He smiles into my mouth before pulling back. “Alright, what’s next?” He picks at the products lined up on the counter beside me, inspecting each bottle.
“Toner.” I point to the bottle of liquid and the cotton pad next to it. “Serum.” I tap the dropper beside it. “Moisturizer. Then, eye cream.”
He grabs the toner and begins getting to work. “Lastly, I get to finish you off with a full body rub down, yeah?”
I snort, nodding as Easton wipes the cotton pad over my face. Next, I instruct him on the proper way to apply the remainder of the products, laughing the entire time I allow him to take care of my skin. When he finally finishes, he presses a soft kiss to my nose. “You’re glowing, Maya, baby.”
We both brush our teeth, thankful the hotel left my suite stocked with extra toiletries, since all of Easton’s are back in his own room. Once we’re finished, he carries me back to the king-sized bed in the center of the room, tossing me onto it before grabbing my favorite tub of lotion from the dressing table. “Take that robe off. You don’t need it anymore.”
“I need to get my pajamas,” I say, though I comply with his demand.
“Oh, fuck no.” He laughs, scooping the lotion into his hand and rubbing his palms together. “If I’m sleeping naked tonight, so are you.”
“You can go downstairs and grab your stuff,” I counter.
He pauses, tilting his head. “Why would I do that when the alternative is having you naked beside me?”
I roll my eyes, laying down on my stomach and propping my head onto my arms as Easton begins to massage the moisturizer into my skin. He takes careful consideration of my back, neck, and shoulders before moving down to my ass.
“You really do have good hands,” I moan as he kneads my flesh between his nimble fingers.
“You really do have a perfect ass,” he responds, massaging my thighs before nipping his teeth into my flesh.
Once every inch of my body is soft and buttery smooth, Easton flips back the comforter, and we both crawl inside. He works himself across the mattress until he’s beside me, inching one arm beneath my body and the other over my side, tugging my back into his chest.
“Easton, there is an entire bed for you to sprawl out on. You don’t need to be on top of me.”
“No can do, Maya baby. You married a stage five clinger, I’m afraid.”
I roll my head back, meeting his eyes. “I don’t cuddle.”
“That’s because you’ve never cuddled with me.”
I sigh, settling into his warmth. Truthfully, it’s not that bad. He’s warm, he’s solid—comforting. His breath against my back makes me feel less alone, his hands on my skin make me feel delicate, like I’m precious. I’ve never felt that way through the touch of another person before.
“Happy Valentine’s Day,” I yawn, eyes feeling heavy as the day finally blankets over me and exhaustion settles in.
“You know, my assistant taped hearts all over my office door before I left for Vegas,” he chuckles into the darkness, thumb drawing those soothing circles over my thigh. “He told me it was good luck, that it’d help me get laid by Valentine’s Day.”
“Guess it worked,” I muse.
Easton sighs softly, breath tickling my neck. “Worked so well, I not only had the best sex of my life with the most beautiful woman on the planet, but I also got to marry my longest-standing crush.”
“Easton…” I breathe, not knowing how to respond, because that statement didn’t feel experimental. That statement—this entire night—is all too real.
“Go to sleep, Maya baby,” he whispers, planting a soft kiss against my shoulder.