Chapter 16 Mason
Mason
The second time Sierra comes for me is in my bed.
I carry her there, up two flights of stairs, after I peel her off the floor. Her legs wrapped around my waist, her arms around my neck, and her perfect ass in my hands. Her chest against mine. Her hands in my hair and her kisses on my lips.
Her lips are soft, swollen now, like the rest of her.
The flesh between her legs that I kiss as I lay her down on my bed. Her nipples, flushed and taut, that I suckle into hard, aching points.
All the while, the music of her sweet moans urges me on.
I pause only to shuck off my sweats. Fumbling, I’m so worked up. My heart beats a frantic rhythm, my breaths coming hard and fast, those goddamn doves in a frenzy every time I look at her face . . . like my chest might burst right open and all my insides might come flying out.
She’s so fucking beautiful, sprawled in the moonlight that spills through the windows, waiting for me. Naked and panting, and for the moment, all mine.
I shift myself over her body, settling my hips between her legs, and she opens for me.
Hip to hip, chest to chest, and mouth to mouth, we move against each other. Sliding together until I almost slide right in. She’s so wet. Her thighs are coated in her climax, her juices mixed with my spit.
I pull back to take a breath.
Her light-green eyes are aglow with pleasure in the moonlight. I nudge my cockhead into her opening, whisper, “Tell me you want it.”
“Yes,” she breathes. “More.”
A shudder of arousal sweeps through me as her hands run down my back. My cock flexes. I fist my hand in her long, soft hair.
I hold her gaze as I fill her in one thrust.
She cries out—that soft, sexy, broken sound that means she’s in pleasure.
I’m a connoisseur of it by now.
My head spins as she squeezes me inside. “Fuck, baby. You’re so tight. So fucking wet for me . . .”
“Yes,” she sobs. “Fuck me . . .” She spreads her thighs, grabs my ass, and digs in her nails as I thrust.
Slow, luxuriating in the feel of her as we kiss. Deeper. More passionate now. Tumbling into each other.
Then faster and faster as we lose our breath.
“You want to come again?” I whisper against her lips.
“Yes. Fuck, Mason . . .”
My balls tighten when she says my name. And this wicked euphoria is gathering in my chest, at the base of my spine, in the base of my cock . . . fucking all over. Tingles are spreading all over my skin.
“Good, baby,” I pant. “Come for me.”
She whimpers as we strain together, deeper and harder, and I feel it when she reaches the edge. She bears down on me, squeezing. Her breath catches. She gasps for air.
“Yeah. Good girl,” I coax her, kissing her neck. “Come all over my dick.”
She moans.
Good thing she likes my dirty talk, because I can’t stop.
“Fuck, I can feel you coming,” I groan as she spasms around me. This time as she comes, she moans helplessly, a sound that sends shivers down my back. “Your pussy, squeezing me . . .” Her hips snap up to meet my thrusts, and I close my eyes, reveling in her pleasure.
I keep fucking her, deep and slow, and she trembles with aftershocks even as she starts to go limp.
“Mason,” she gasps. “Come. I want you to come.”
Fuck, the rush. When she gasps my name.
When she asks for my orgasm.
“You want it?” God. I can’t stop. I mean, I can. I will.
If she wants me to.
“Yes,” she breathes. “It’s okay. I’m on birth control.”
Harder, I slam into her. Still slow, but deep, my own arousal ramping up to the brink. “Are you sure?”
“Ungh,” she groans in pleasure as I pound her. “Yes.”
“You want me inside?”
“Yes.” She grabs at my ass, clutching, pulling me closer. “Gimme . . .”
And that does it.
My resistance is gone.
A few more thrusts—and my cock stiffens. Pulses. Pleasure surges through me as I unload inside her with a groan.
I’m lost in it for a long, breathless moment, in her, as I empty myself out. Wrapped in her arms, our damp bodies entwined as my heart slams.
Afterwards, as my other senses gradually seep back in, I struggle to catch my breath. Sierra has taken it away. I’m aware of the sound of wind in the trees outside, and hope we weren’t too loud.
I have no idea if we were.
Fuck.
That was nothing like I imagined it would be.
And I’ve imagined it a lot. Taking her, in every imaginable position, fast—and fucking angry. Frustration fucking.
None of my fantasies came close to reality.
Her eagerness.
Her softness.
The smell of her, the naked curves of her body, the sound of her voice while I’m inside her. The parts of her she let me have this time, no holding back.
The way she makes me feel . . .
I’m still inside her when I become aware of her heavy breathing. I lift some of my weight off her. I shift my hips, and pull out carefully.
“Don’t go,” she whispers, so quietly I barely make out the words. Her arms are still around me, and I relax against her.
It feels way too good.
I bury my face in her hair and inhale her soft scent, again.
Her fingers curl into the hair at the nape of my neck and a warm shiver runs through me.
My pulse throbs against her body, almost in time with hers.
It throbs in the back of my mind, like a clock, ticking down the days, hours, minutes. Like a bomb . . . it warns me not to get too close. Not to get attached, or it’ll blow up in my face.
Because she’s leaving Orchard Cove.
Sooner or later . . .
She’s leaving me.
When I wake up in the morning, the ceiling fan loops lazily overhead.
I hear birds singing in the trees through the open windows, the purr of farm equipment, and the soft shoosh of the sea.
I smell freshly brewed coffee. Because when Layne and Kaylie moved out, my niece got upset, and I promised her we’d still have breakfast together, every morning.
I smell Sierra’s soft scent all over me, and I stretch my arms out, between the cool sheets, seeking.
Wanting.
But I already know.
She’s gone.