Chapter 10 Mason
Mason
Breathing her in, I take a moment to soak in what’s happening. Nova, this sweet woman, is waiting so patiently for me to get my tongue on her. From the heave of her chest, I know there’s a chance that patience can run thin. Can’t have her waiting for long, can I?
My thumb strokes a feather-light circle just beside her clit, and her hips jerk off the mattress, a silent, desperate plea. The power of that simple movement, the control I have over her body, is an addiction fed straight through my veins.
I don’t start gently. I don’t have the patience for a slow build, either. I lower my mouth and bury my tongue inside her in one deep, explorative stroke.
She cries out, a noise that’s half my name, half a sob.
Her taste explodes on my tongue—musky, sweet, uniquely Nova.
It’s the flavor of her pleasure, and it’s mine.
All mine. I feast on her, my tongue delving deep, mapping her inner walls, learning the textures that make her legs tremble and her fingers fist in my hair.
When I need to breathe, I pull back, but only to mark the soft, pale skin of her inner thighs with my mouth. I suck small reminders into the tender flesh, branding her. Mine. Mine. Mine.
I want her to think of me even when we’re apart, and such marks will be the perfect reminder.
My fingers find her as I momentarily move back to give my jaw a break.
I press one finger against her entrance, feeling the frantic, fluttering pulse of her.
She’s so wet, so ready. I push inside, one thick digit, and her back arches off the bed, a low, guttural moan tearing from her throat.
It’s a sound of pure, unfiltered need, and it goes straight to my cock.
I really hope she can handle me. Just one finger disappearing in her pink, tight heat has me worried. If I get inside her, she’s going to suffocate me. Despite the concerning thought, my cock continues to twitch, demanding I prep her for every inch I have to give.
“Yes,” she pants, the word a sharp, breathy exhalation as her hips rise to meet the thrust of my hand. It’s less a word and more a plea, a sound of approval that fuels the fire in my gut.
I add a second finger, stretching her, watching her face contort in pleasure.
A sharp, high gasp escapes her, followed by a shaky, shuddering inhale.
Her hands are clutching at that ridiculous Christmas sweater, twisting the fabric.
I want it off. I want her bare for me. But not yet. She needs three fingers, minimum.
Knowing how tight two are, I put my attention on her clit, circling the swollen bud with my thumb. She cries out, a broken, melodic sound that cuts off as I start to introduce a third. A desperate, whimpering groan vibrates against my palm as her body tries to accommodate me.
It’s a sound of strain and ecstasy, a tight, throaty noise that tells me she’s feeling every fraction of an inch. Ever so slowly, I work it inside, trying not to acknowledge how fucking tight she is, how her every gasp and whimper is a siren’s call I have no hope of resisting.
When I have three fingers buried deep inside her, pumping in a steady, relentless rhythm, I lower my mouth back to her clit. I don’t just lick. I suck. I draw the tight, swollen bud between my lips and suckle, flicking my tongue over it with a precision that has her screaming.
“Mason… I’m… Oh!” Her body tenses, cutting off her words.
Her climax crashes over her, a violent, beautiful storm. Her body seizes, clenching around my fingers in a series of rhythmic, milking pulses. I keep my mouth on her, drinking every shudder, every cry, until she’s pushing weakly at my head, oversensitive and spent.
But I’m not done. I remove my fingers, slick with her release, and hold her hips down firmly against the mattress.
She’s boneless, panting, her eyes glazed.
Then I bury my tongue deep inside her again, lapping up the very essence of her orgasm.
I taste every peak, every tremor, until I’m satisfied, until I’m drunk on her.
Only then do I stand, towering over her. My own need is a painful, throbbing ache in my jeans. My eyes lock with hers as I reach for the hem of that fucking sweater.
“This has to go,” I growl, pulling it up and over her head in one swift motion. Not because I hate the holiday, but it’s covering up a masterpiece beneath.
And once more, she’s not wearing a fucking bra.
A low, growling sound rumbles in my chest. “I’m not going to be able to control myself if you keep this up.”
She smiles, a slow, sated, wicked curve of her lips, like she already knows what she’s doing. “Good.”
She’s weak, languid from her climax, but she still moves back on the bed, giving me room to join her. My fingers fumble with my belt, my button, my zipper. I shove my pants and boxers down my thighs, kicking them off. I’m naked before her, fully exposed, and her gaze drops to my cock.
It’s thick and painfully hard, jutting out from my body, the head slick with precum.
“You like seeing what you do to me, Nova?” I wrap a hand around myself, giving a slow, tight stroke.
Her eyes follow the movement, hypnotized.
“Yeah, you did this.” I spread the bead of precum with my thumb and groan at the sensation.
“Just thinking about your pussy sucking me in like my fingers did. I don’t even know how long I’ll last. A couple pumps if I’m lucky. ”
I crawl onto the bed, positioning myself between her spread legs. I tease her with my cock, using the head to slick through her wetness, coating myself in her.
Like me, Nova can’t keep her hands off. From touching my hair to the back of my neck, her hips move on their own, seeking even more friction. Fuck, I love her being greedy. Now that’s something I could use more of.
Leaning over her, I kiss the valley between her breasts, then continue to thrust gently against her slit, the sensation maddening. I lower my mouth to one nipple, sucking it deep, teasing the peak with my teeth until she’s crying out and arching into me.
I move to her other breast, flicking my tongue against the hardened tip to keep her distracted, my cock still nudging at her entrance. Then, I position myself against her opening.
A nervous sound leaves her, a small sigh as she trembles. Parting her thighs wider, it’s like she already knows what’s coming. Still, she’s not pulling away, she’s not changing her mind. Nova’s set on giving me this precious gift.
Looking into her eyes, I thrust in. Not all the way, just to her barrier. That first tight, breathtaking clutch has me seeing spots.
Needing a distraction, I move my mouth to her throat, kissing the frantic pulse there before sucking hard, marking her. The word leaves me on a ragged breath, a fundamental truth. “Mine.”
I listen to her pant, the sound ragged in my ear. I pull out, just an inch, then give her another shallow, torturous thrust.
“You’re going to take all of my cock, aren’t you, Nova?”
She nods, her eyes overflowing with need, and wraps her legs around my waist, locking her ankles at the small of my back. The surrender, the invitation, is my undoing.
The next thrust is me bottoming out, burying myself to the hilt in one smooth, deep stroke. A broken groan is torn from my chest. Fuck. Her grip on me is nothing like my own fist. It’s so hot, so impossibly wet and tight, I’m already feeling the dizzying climb of my release.
Her hiss is enough to bring me back, to put my concern for her over myself.
“You alright?” I grind out, lifting high enough to take in her pinched expression.
She lets out a shaky breath and nods. “Move. Just… slow.”
Even though it’s absolute torture, I do. I rock into her, a slow, deep cadence that has me feeling every inch of her silken walls clutching around me. The wet sounds of our joining drive me crazy. I groan as she digs her nails into my back, a deep, welcome pain.
I still when she gasps, her eyes flying wide.
“No, don’t stop. Right there. Please, Mason. Right there.”
I oblige, shifting my angle just so, hissing as she finds a new grip, her nails dragging to scour down my back. I continue to thrust, hitting that perfect, deep spot inside her with every roll of my hips. A long, low moan leaves her lips, and it’s the most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard.
I can’t be slow anymore.
I thrust faster. Harder. The bed creaks, groaning in protest under the frantic, punishing rhythm. I fist the blanket next to her head, trying to ground myself, to hold on, but it’s useless. She is unraveling me, completely.
I pound into her, making her cry out my name with every drive of my hips.
The room fills with the sounds of us—wet, slapping noises, my guttural curses, her sharp, pleading cries.
I’m going to come. I know I am. The pressure is coiling, burning at the base of my spine.
I want to bury myself so deep I become a part of her.
I want to flood her, claim her in the most primitive way possible.
“Is this what you want, Nova?” I rasp, my voice strained as my hunger stains my words. “You want me to fill you up? Breed this perfect pussy?”
She doesn’t speak. She answers me with the frantic tightening of her legs around me, pulling me deeper, her hips meeting my every thrust. Even if I wanted to pull out, I don’t think she’d let me. The thought is enough to take me out.
Her voice hitches, and then she screams out as her climax rips through her. Her body clamps down on me in a vice-like grip, milking me, pulling the orgasm from my very soul. I thrust all but four more times before I bottom out again, burying myself as deep as I can go.
A roar tears from my throat as I come, my release pumping into her in hot, endless pulses, flooding her, claiming her, sealing the truth of my words deep inside her.
I don’t move. I can’t. I stay buried to the hilt, my body trembling with the force of it, making sure she takes every last drop. In a daze, I watch her stomach flutter with the aftershocks, knowing I’ve marked her, filled her.
Whatever happens, happens. But fuck, if something does, I know I’m going to latch the hell on.
By the way her hands move to her stomach, she must be thinking about it, too.
For a long moment, the only sound is our ragged breathing, syncing in the quiet.
Slowly, carefully, I ease my way out of her, the movement a tender echo of our previous frenzy.
She makes a soft, protesting sound in the back of her throat, a sound that spears right through me.
I don’t go far. I can’t. I shift my weight, bracing on my forearms to cage her in, and look down at her.
Her eyes are hazy, her lips swollen from my kisses, her skin flushed with the heat we made together.
She is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.
I lean down and brush my lips against hers. It’s not a kiss of passion, but of promise. A seal. When I pull back just enough to speak, my voice is rough.
“That memory,” I whisper, my thumb stroking her cheek.
“The one I told you about.” I take a shaky breath, my eyes holding hers, ensuring she sees the absolute truth in them.
“It’s gone. It’s just… gone. When I think about Christmas now, Nova…
without a doubt… it’ll be this. You, here with me. Like this.”
Her eyes well with tears, but they don’t fall. Instead, a smile brighter than any parade float, any star on any tree, breaks across her face. It’s a smile of pure, unshadowed joy, and it’s meant only for me.
“Good,” she whispers, her voice thick. Her hands come up to frame my face, holding me with a tenderness that threatens to shatter what’s left of my heart. “That’s all I wanted, for you to have a memory that’s only yours. Only ours.”
I lower myself fully beside her, gathering her into my arms until her back is snug against my chest. She fits there perfectly, like the last piece of a puzzle I didn’t know I was solving. I press a kiss to her shoulder, then another to the nape of her neck, breathing her in.
For the first time in years, the holiday doesn’t feel like a countdown to heartache.
It feels like a beginning. Her hand finds mine where it rests on her stomach, and she laces our fingers together.
A future, bright and terrifying and wonderful, stretches out before us, and for the first time, I’m not afraid to reach for it.
I hold her close, and I know, with a certainty that roots deep into my soul, that this is it. Everything I could ever ask for.