Chapter 29 #2
One of his arms snakes around my back to draw me closer, while the other drifts down to the front of my neck, not squeezing, but holding.
I try not to think about the last time I was held there and fight against the touch of fear that begins to surface.
This is Mase. I want this. I do.
I can do this.
His mouth chases mine when I try pulling back a little, like he can’t stop himself. And maybe he can’t, because when I do manage to separate my mouth from his, his gaze looks feverish, something dark and primal, not a version of Mase I’ve seen before.
Blinking a few times, he refocuses on me, shaking his head and breathing heavily. I realize he’s trembling as well. “Sorry.”
My breaths are fast and labored as I stare at him, half-lidded. “Don’t be. I just . . . I haven’t done this since before that night.”
Reality slips back into his eyes, but before he can respond, I lean in to kiss him again, my hands creeping up to the back of his neck to thread through his dark locks.
Mase delves back in, not as strongly as before, but no less passionate. He takes what I give, licking, sucking, and claiming. Touching and caressing.
I can’t remember getting this swept up in a kiss before, wanting to go further and give everything.
I suck his bottom lip between my teeth and tug, pulling another gruff sound from him.
But then he pulls back, abruptly standing before setting me on my feet in front of him. “We should stop.”
Breathless, I rest my hands on his chest, feeling his heart pounding inside. “Why? I’m okay.”
Gripping my hands, he lifts them off him. “We just should.”
My heart drops, all the courage and desire from a moment ago fizzling away, while some of the old feelings from long ago resurface. “Because I’m damaged goods?”
“What?” Mase chokes out. “No. God, no. You are not damaged.” Swallowing, he presses his forehead to mine, breathing in deeply, his nose brushing against mine. “Not at all.”
“But you don’t want me?”
Pulling back, he looks at me with pained conflict still in his eyes. “I want you so fucking much that I’m afraid of what I’m capable of.”
I bring one of his hands to my lips, brushing them back and forth. “I want you, too,” I tell him. “More than I’ve wanted anything in a long time.”
Mase shakes his head, but he’s not saying no.
Maybe he’s saying that I shouldn’t want him?
“What is it?" I whisper.
His chest rises and falls faster while his eyes bounce all over my face before landing on my lips.
“Fuck it.” A ragged sound comes from his throat right before he grips my jaw and captures my mouth once more, like he just can’t stay away.
Anticipation buzzes through my body, and I find myself being walked backward in a frenzy of tangled lips and tongues.
My back hits a wall. I don’t know which one, and for the moment, I don’t care.
It’s freeing, so freeing, not to be tied to my fears for once. To not have the self-hatred lurking around every corner. I’ve somehow managed to block off that part of my brain.
I know I’m only on borrowed time, though. All the old feelings will come crashing down on me with a vengeance soon enough, so I’m going to enjoy this bit of peace while I can.
Mase presses his erection into me, his lips clumsily trailing along my jaw, while I run my hands over his muscular back. He’s so solid, his body carved from years of working out at the gym.
My panties are wet, nipples pebbled, and every inch of my skin is burning up. I don’t remember ever feeling this blood-thrumming need before.
I need him like he’s the antidote to the poison running through my veins.
A full body shiver runs through me when his hand makes contact with my stomach under the hem of my sweater.
He groans another curse against my lips, sounding tormented. “There are . . . handcuffs in your room. For me. You can take control, go as slow as you need.”
If I were thinking clearer, I might wonder a little more about why he has handcuffs, but I decide that I don’t want to know right now.
Eyes locking back on his, I nod.
While I don’t think I need to use them, I appreciate his offer for them to make me feel safe.
Yes, I’ve been okay so far, but we’ve only been kissing. I don’t know how I’ll feel taking it further, and I’d hate to suddenly have a panic attack with him after telling him I’m okay.
In the next second, he hoists me up below my ass, my arms and legs wrapping around him as he carries me.
Pausing briefly, he flicks on the light to my bedroom, then I’m lowered onto the soft mattress like I’m something delicate.
Indecision crosses his face as he looks down at me. I know he’s worried about me, and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t swarming with nerves, along with the desire. But I’m doing this.
Parts of me that haven’t been active in a very long time are well and truly awake now, and I don’t think I can bury them away in slumber again.
Mase runs his gaze over my body, nostrils flaring, but he doesn’t make any moves to do anything.
Eyes lingering on my leggings, he clenches his hands. Holding back.
It’s clear he’s not going to be the one to take them off, so I reach for the waistband and slowly peel them down. My legs have been bare in front of him before, but with the way he’s devouring them with his heated gaze, you’d think it’s his first time seeing them.
Eyes turning feral, he comes down on top of me, planting his arms beside my head while our mouths come together, tongues exploring.
For a moment, the feel of his weight pinning me down sends a flash of panic through me, but I shove it away, forcing my mind on here and now, on Mase.
I can do this.
The thrust of his pelvis over my panties has a whimper slipping out, so he does it again.
Bringing my hands between us, I start undoing the buttons of his shirt, the task a distraction from being underneath him. Once it’s open, I slip my fingers through the gap to feel his skin.
The contact makes his stomach muscles jump, and he separates his mouth from mine.
Those same wild eyes from earlier stare down at me, mouth parted and lips puffy, body vibrating. “You’re so fucking beautiful,” he whispers. “I’ll get the cuffs.” Pushing off me, he rushes to the closet.
“I’m not sure you need them,” I say to his back, but my words don’t seem to reach or stop him.
Lifting to a sitting position, I watch as Mase pulls them down from the top shelf I haven’t used, along with a condom, then quickly returns to the bed.
Mase climbs on, not wasting any time securing the cuffs to each wrist, then settles against my pillows, attaching one wrist to a bar above his head before returning his gaze to me.
“I’ll need your help with the other one.”
I run my eyes over him, taking in the sight of his mussed-up hair, his chiseled body peeking through the opening in his button-down shirt, his arms spread wide over his head, the bulge in his black slacks, and the way his lungs are greedily taking in air.
He’s so incredibly strong, and skilled at taking opponents down, he wouldn’t even have to try to pin me, taking whatever he appears to so desperately want.
A dark shiver runs over me at that thought.
Yet, there he is, laying restrained for me to do as I please, at my own pace.
A different type of warmth floods me, and I crawl up the bed. Kneeling beside him, I reach over to explore his exposed flesh, running my fingers along his stomach and chest, marveling at the smoothness of it.
I wish he had taken his clothes off beforehand. Now they’ll be stuck covering part of this masterpiece.
A soft groan vibrates through his throat. “The cuff, Jayne.”
Leaving his torso, I attach his wrist to the bar, my fingers running from his hand all the way to his shoulder and neck, then to his jaw and cheek. I can’t seem to stop touching him.
My eyes lock onto his desire-filled gaze as I lean down to softly kiss him.
The cuffs rattle against the bars, reminding me he’s restrained, and I can do as I please.
Although I’ve shown a measure of confidence up to this point, I don’t actually know what I’m doing. I don’t know what he likes. I don’t even know what I like.
“Tell me what to do,” I murmur after pulling back a fraction.
His hooded gaze holds mine for a lust-filled moment before sliding down to my sweater.
Apprehension seeps into the corners of my mind, certain he’ll tell me to take it off.
My arms . . . they’ll be the only thing in the room if I expose them.
“Take my belt off,” he says instead. “And undo my pants.”
I pull back, surprised but grateful, then immediately grasp the buckle of his belt to unclasp it. He lifts ever so slightly for me to slide it out of his pants and drop it to the ground, then I undo his button and zipper.
Hands sliding over his hips, I ask, “What next?”
His muscles strain, fighting against the cuffs like he’s dying to touch me in return. “Whenever you’re ready, take your panties off.”
Still not my sweater.
I’m sure he expected me to take my time, but I slip off the bed and pull them down my legs, kicking them aside without hesitation. I’m more than ready.
Mase’s eyes drop to my sex, growing impossibly darker. “Come here,” he rasps, licking his lips. “Take out my cock.”
Climbing back onto the bed, half naked, I straddle his thighs while my fingers fumble with his pants, tugging them below his ass. His cock is so hard and thick, and the veins running up both sides look like they’re pulsing.
I free him completely, then wrap my hand around the hard length, drawing a hissed curse from him.
So smooth. So warm. So ready.
“Touch yourself,” he grates out. “Make sure you’re ready.”
Hearing his voice, thick with need, as he tells me what to do makes me grow wetter. I like him telling me what to do.
I drag my free hand down to my wet core, feeling the slippery evidence of my desire, while still holding him with my other hand.
“I’m so wet for you.” My cheeks flush at the admission, but I don’t look away. I don’t want to ruin this.
He swallows thickly, eyes trained on my hand between my legs. “Open the condom and roll it on.”
If I weren’t so turned-on, I might feel embarrassed that I’ve never done that before. Triston had a condom on before I could blink, and the whole thing started and finished within seconds.
And the other time—
No.
I cut myself off from that thought, not allowing it room in my mind.
Tearing the foil, I pull out the rubber, then work out the right way to roll it on.
Mase groans as I glide it down his shaft, eyes closing for a pleasure-filled second. “I fucking love the feel of your hands on me.”
Watching him, and seeing how much he wants this, sends a heady thrill straight through my belly to my pussy.
Leaning down, I kiss a path from his hip to his stomach, ghosting my lips across his skin as I glide up his chest, his muscles clenching and cuffs rattling as I go. I make my way up his neck, then hover over his mouth, but he lifts his head off the bed, killing the space between our lips.
A low sound scrapes along his throat. “Ride me. Use me, however you like.”
In other words, I’m in control. I can go at my pace. I can stop if I want.
But I don’t want to.
I shift so I’m in position above him, taking his length in my hand and closing my eyes when I press it to my opening.
I’m actually doing this.
I lower a fraction, feeling both the stretch around his cock and some of the lasting effects of that night melting away.
“Jesus, fuck. How can it already feel so damn good?”
Eyes fluttering open, I take note of the sweat beading along Mase’s brow and his jaw clenching so tight I bet it’s painful. I’m sure he’s holding himself back from thrusting up into me.
I lower another couple of inches, a shaky breath pushing past my lips. I feel so incredibly full of him.
“Look at you,” Mase murmurs, voice thick and gravelly. “Beyond gorgeous while taking back your power. Don’t let him have it anymore. Take it.”
I drop the rest of the way, his words an aphrodisiac to my soul. “Oh, god,” I breathe out at the same time Mase’s teeth clench tight.
I’m not letting Dylan have this power over me anymore.
The significance of this moment sends moisture to the backs of my eyes that I try to blink away.
“Thank you,” I mumble softly, though I don’t know if he knows what I’m thanking him for.
I never thought I’d enjoy something like this again. I never thought I’d enjoy anything again, but here is this beautiful man, bringing me back from the dead piece by piece, refusing to let me deteriorate.
“I’ve got you, Jayne.”
Hands resting on his chest, I lift up again before lowering, feeling the rub of his cock inside me. I repeat it over and over, working my hips up and down, moans and grunts and loud breaths filling the room.
Eyes rolling back, Mase groans. “You’re doing so good.”
Wanting to be closer, I fall forward to kiss him again, holding his face in my hands.
Our lips move, tongues dance, bodies joined together.
Pulling back, I stare into his midnight eyes, finding a look I can’t decipher buried in their inky depths.
“Are you okay?” he breathes.
I realize my hands are shaking, but it’s not from fear. “Yes. Very.”
Our lips connect again, the kiss turning more heated than meaningful while I rock my hips, grinding into him.
The double stimulation has the sparks of an orgasm building in my core, a flush spreading across my skin. I grind harder, my face falling into the crook of his neck.
“Fuck, Jayne.” Mase’s voice is raspy beside my ear. “You tear me to pieces. And it’s never felt so damn good to be broken.”
I can’t make sense of his words, but I’m too close to ecstasy to even try.
My hips jerk faster, fingers threading through the strands of his hair to grip, while I fall deeper into bliss.
“I’m holding on by a fucking thread,” Mase groans, the cuffs clanking. “I’m going to come so hard inside you, but you need to go first.”
I was already on the cusp, but his words have me tumbling over the edge. A shockwave of pleasure shoots through me at the thought of him coming inside me, making my eyes roll and mouth part on a moan. Stars burst behind my eyelids, every part of me buzzing with euphoria.
“Yes. That’s it. Good girl.”
Unable to hold back any longer, Mase starts thrusting his hips, hitting a spot inside me that triggers another orgasm. Or maybe it just prolongs the first one, who knows. My body feels like a livewire, every touch and stroke setting it off.
Mase’s orgasm follows a mere second later.
Head tilted back, his hips jolt, then go still as he empties inside me with a loud groan and gasping breaths.
It feels like an eternity passes before the pleasure subsides, both his and mine, and we’ve both come back from the high.
“Jesus.”
All I manage to say in reply is a breathless, “Yeah.”
We stay like that for several long minutes, unmoving, heartbeats wild, skin slick, hair a mess, and breaths uncontrolled.
I feel boneless, sated, and sleepy.
But guilt and shame are fickle enemies of mine, and I know that at any minute, they’ll come roaring back to haunt me.