Chapter Sixteen
“Sweetness, you keep staring at me with those pretty eyes of yours, I’m gonna think you want that kiss now.”
Yes! Please.
“Fuck,” he snarled, stepping closer and dropping his head so his mouth was at my ear. “Is that what you want, Calli? You want your kiss now, baby?”
My head bobbled in what I hoped was a nod, but with all things Mason filling my senses—including his hard body pressed against me—I wasn’t positive I pulled off my approval.
“Then take it,” he rumbled.
The gravel in his voice sent a bolt of electricity to my core.
His taunt made me bold. But when his lips skimmed over my cheek on their journey to my mouth, desire turned into a craving.
I needed him to kiss me. The urgency was fueled by primal want, a hunger so intense it felt animalistic.
My heart was beating erratically, my clit pulsed, my breasts felt heavy.
Every inch of my body readied itself for Mason.
“Please,” I begged.
I fisted his shirt, pulling him closer. Or was I anchoring myself to him while the storm he created threatened to take me under?
A slow glide of his tongue over the seam of my lips gave me the answer—totally holding on for dear life.
“Open for me, Calli.”
I parted my lips. Unlike mine from last night, there was nothing tentative about Mason’s kiss. His tongue stroked mine, coaxing at first, then demanding. He deepened the kiss, taking it from hungry to downright intense.
This wasn’t a kiss—it was possession.
“Christ,” he groaned, breaking the connection.
I whimpered my protest. “More.”
“Calli—”
“Please, Mase.”
It didn’t register he’d moved us until my back hit the wall.
“Keep your hands on my shoulders.” He softened the bite of his command by brushing his knuckles along my jaw.
I followed his directive and let go of his shirt. When my hands were where he wanted them, he leaned in, kissed my throat, and issued another order. “Spread for me.”
I shuffled my feet apart. His hand went to the space I’d created, and he used the edge of his finger to gently stroke. I groaned at the contact and shifted closer.
Mason didn’t lift his lips from my neck when he spoke. The vibration tickled, but his question ignited a fire only he could extinguish. “You spread for me, Calli, but still I gotta ask, is this the more you wanted?”
“Yes.”
“Like this?” He twisted his hand and circled my clit with his fingertip. “Or do you want me to fuck you with my fingers?”
My brain was short-circuiting from the gentle over-the-clothes maneuver. With each circle, he brought me closer to climax. I would’ve been embarrassed if I had any working brain cells, however, in my haze of euphoria, there was no shame.
My hips jolted and I moaned, “Mase.”
That was as far as I got when he made the decision for me.
“I wanna feel you, sweetness. You okay with that?”
“Yes.”
I momentarily lost his hand. When I got it back, this time under the spandex of my workout shorts, I couldn’t stop my gasp. No one had ever touched me there, not bare. Teenage groping and over-the-clothes fondling was as far as I’d gotten.
And Mason was no adolescent fumbling around to find the spot—he zeroed in with expert precision.
My fingers curled around his shoulders while his teased my center, before pushing in.
My breath rushed out in a mix of “oh my God,” which I verbalized, and “holy shit, this is so much better than a toy,” which I amazingly kept to myself.
“Goddamn, you’re fucking tight,” he growled against my throat, and pushed his finger deeper. “Grind down on that, Calli.”
With no other choice, my body obeyed, mindless in its pursuit of pleasure. His thumb engaged my clit, my eyes closed, and my orgasm inched closer.
“That’s it, baby, come for me.”
Was it possible to orgasm on command? Apparently the answer to that was a resounding yes.
Before the moan could escape, Mason pulled his face out of my neck and slammed his mouth on mine, swallowing my cry of ecstasy.
The tremors racking my body made it hard to keep my balance as my climax held me hostage.
My inner muscles pulsed around Mason’s unyielding finger.
It was too much—the heat chased by chills racing over my skin, his tongue, his thumb working miracles on my clit.
It was unending euphoria, a tidal wave of relief and the sweetest high.
Mason tore his mouth off mine. Slowly, my eyes opened to find the green of his irises swallowed up by his pupils, a look I could only describe as carnal saturating his features. A feminine thrill washed over me.
He twisted his finger, setting off a wave of aftershocks as my orgasm waned.
“Fuck me, you’re gorgeous.”
His forehead lowered to mine, and together we slowed our breathing. Well, at least that was what I was doing. I felt like I’d been tossed into the zombie apocalypse with no warning and had just spent the last ten minutes running for my life.
Really, Calista, you couldn’t come up with a better analogy? Zombies?
Shut up, my brain isn’t functioning after that big ole orgasm from Wonder Mason.
Great, now I was conversing with myself.
“You good, baby?”
I sagged against Mason and gave him the God’s honest truth. “Oh yeah.”
That simple movement set off a chain reaction of events I wasn’t experienced enough to foresee.
The first thing that happened was, I pressed against his rock-hard erection.
The second was, his hand still down my pants twitched, causing my hips to chase the sensation.
And third, Mason groaned. No, it wasn’t a groan, it was a raw, untamed rumble that sounded wild and erotic.
Like a man on the verge of throwing his woman over his shoulder, this after he dragged his knuckles on the ground and brought a saber-toothed tiger back to the shelter he’d made.
Unfortunately, the next thing he did was pull his hand out of my pants. Obviously that meant I’d lost his magical finger, which pulled a sorrowful whimper out of me.
I searched his features for a sign of what I should do next.
“No.”
“No?” I repeated, but instead of a statement, mine was a question.
“Right now, I’m gonna walk out of here. Before I leave, so this doesn’t get twisted, I’m telling you straight, I’m this close”—he lifted his hand and showed me his thumb and pointer finger almost touching—“to snapping and begging you to let me get more than a finger inside your tight, wet-as-fuck pussy. But before that, I’d beg you to let me spread you out on the sparring mat and eat your cunt until everyone in this whole damn building knows how good I can make you feel and how hard you get off for me.
The consequence of that is I’d have to kill two men I respect because no one but me gets to hear you. That’s mine and only mine.”
Boy, he doesn’t know how right he is.
“So, I’m going upstairs to jack off to the memory of your tight, wet-as-fuck cunt and pretend it’s not my hand getting me there.”
“I could help you with that?”
I wouldn’t’ve thought it possible for Mason’s eyes to get darker than they already were, but there, staring back at me, was proof they could.
“That already went further than it should’ve.”
Shit.
Celibate for ten years, Mason had kissed me and finger-fucked me to orgasm.
Before I could apologize, he hooked me around the back of my neck and brought my face close to his. “Don’t go there.”
“You don’t know where I was going,” I protested.
“You’re gearing up to say you’re sorry. I already told you, I’m a big boy, no one makes me do anything I don’t want to do.
Not only was I with you every step of the way, I want more of you, Calli.
I don’t know what it is about you, or why I feel the way I do, why when I’m next to you, what makes me want to toss you over my shoulder and keep you captive.
I also know I don’t care why, I just know I do, and it feels right in a way it’s never felt before. ”
There it was. I knew that look was pure caveman.
“I wasn’t lying or exaggerating, sweetness. I’m edging toward losing my control. Before that happens, I need to leave. We straight?”
I nodded, not trusting I could hide my disappointment if I spoke.
With a soft brush of his lips over mine, he let me go and stepped back.
I immediately missed his hands on me.
Mason walked to the door while I stood rooted in place.
Then he was gone.
And I was left standing in a gym in a penthouse owned by a stranger, smiling after having my very first non-self-induced orgasm.
Vagina sated—check.
Heart under wraps—not even a little bit.
Time to mission prep.
I was still in my robe, but my hair and makeup were done for dinner with Amir when the pull of the balcony got the best of me. Ignoring my dress laid out on the bed, I made my way to the slider.
Instead of sitting on a lounger, Mason was standing at the railing, hands curled around the metal banister, staring out at the cityscape, but when I approached, his head turned. After a top-to-toe eye sweep, he smiled.
“That tracks,” he mumbles.
“What does?”
“You living dangerously.”
I shrugged but kept my distance. “It’s been a few hours. I thought I’d be safe.”
“You thought wrong.”
I took in his wet hair, black slacks, and crisp white oxford. He looked showered, ready to go play bodyguard, and edible.
My efforts to hide my smile were fruitless when I asked, “Were your . . . activities not successful?”
Mason’s lips twitched. “Activities?”
“You know, your event, endeavor, deed.” I tossed out a few synonyms.
“Come closer and I’ll tell you.”
Without permission, my feet took me to Mason. As soon as I was close, he let go of the railing and hooked me around the waist, drawing me flush with his side.
“Fuck, you smell good.”
So did he, but now that I was back in his arms, all I could think about was what happened in the gym and how I really wanted it to happen again, preferably in a room with a bed.
“Are you worried about tonight?”
It took me a moment to recover from the conversational whiplash Mason had delivered.
I tipped my head back and to the side, taking in his strong profile. That five-o’clock shadow was now filled in to a proper beard, yet I could still see the tense set of his jaw.
“No.”
I watched him nod.
Eager to get back to our original conversation, I prompted, “So, are you going to tell me?”
“Tonight when we get home.”
“You’re telling me I walked all this way only to be denied?” I teased.
Mason snatched my wrist, guided it to his crotch, and pressed my hand against his erection.
Holy hell, Batman. I’d felt it earlier in the gym, but not like this, not with my hand on it, feeling the impressive outline.
“Shower’s worn off, sweetness. If I tell you the details of what I thought about while I stroked my cock, either you’ll be missing dinner completely or I’ll be escorting you with a stiff dick and no chance of hiding it.
PDA is illegal in Dubai. I don’t know for certain, but I’m thinking walking around in public with an erection is frowned upon. ”
Mason wasn’t wrong about PDA. Even married couples holding hands in public was iffy. Kissing, absolutely not. Walking around with a tent pole would definitely garner unwanted attention.
“Well, we wouldn’t want you to get a fine for your trouser tower, so I’ll wait for the details until we get home.” And since my hand was still resting on his package, I took the chance and gave it a squeeze.
That earned me a grunt and a “Jesus.”
“You claim I like to live dangerously, yet it was you who put my hand on your cock.”
“What can I say, I like living on the edge.”
“Of insanity?” I shot back.
Mason tipped his chin, leaned close, and right before he kissed me, he shared, “We passed insanity a few hundred yards back, sweetness.”
This kiss was nothing like the one earlier. He kept it light and gentle—a sweet tease. His hands didn’t wander, but mine did—up and down his shaft until he broke the kiss with a groan.
“Go. Finish getting ready.”
“Life sucks,” I grumbled, not wanting to stop what we were doing.
“It’ll suck less if you get your ass in gear and go change into what dress you’re going to torture me with all night, so we can get to this bullshit dinner and get home and pick up where we left off.”
“Promise?” I whispered.
“Yeah, sweetness, I promise.”
I couldn’t read Mason’s expression, but I felt his words someplace deep inside of me where he shouldn’t’ve been able to reach.
Maybe it was time to start reinforcing those walls around my heart.