Page 136 of Promise Me Not

I need him to put it out.

God, I need?—

Mason grabs the blanket that fell to the floor and gently lays it over us, and when he shifts, a hiss leaves his lips, and my clit throbs with need.

The blanket starts to move, up and down, up and down, and when I look to his face, his eyes are closed, those lush lips parted. He’s pleasuring himself with long, leisurely strokes, and I cannot look away.

He moans, and I nearly shatter, my hands shaking as I dare to follow his lead.

I push my shorts down, my chest and cheeks burning with the blush of all blushes, and then my fingers brush over myself. It’s the barest of touches, yet my hips fly off the cushion, the need so strong I can’t breathe.

I gasp into the room, my eyes flying to the TV when a long, loud moan fills the space.

The man is fucking her now, his body rolling and hips thrusting slowly.

Suddenly, it’s not two strangers on the screen.

It’s me and Mason.

It’s my body bare beneath his.

He leans in, licking along my neck, and I shake.

He grabs my thighs, rough and hard, and I moan.

His body lowers, covering me like a warm, weighted blanket I need more of.

I drag my nails along his back, desperate to bring him closer, and he presses my knees open wide.

He buries himself inside me, driving deeper than I’ve ever felt, and I start to shake.

Mason groans and I whine, my eyes flicking open and realizing it wasn’t part of the fantasy.

My eyes slide his way, the blanket having fallen with our movement, exposing his wrists but nothing more.

My eyes are glued on him, my hand following his rhythm, and my stomach muscles tighten, my breathing growing choppy.

I want to feel him.

See him.

I want to taste him.

The thought is so tantalizing, the pulsing need to do exactly that so foreign, I choke on air.

My toes curl into the blanket, and I give a tiny tug.

The fleece hiding him from me falls to his thighs, and my face grows beet red.

Mason’s hand is wrapped tight, his dick silky and solid and swollen in his fist. The tip is glistening, a thick gleam slipping down the head, and when he takes his thumb, brushing it over the wet spot, I moan, licking my lips.

His eyes snap to mine, and my entire body quakes, my core locks, pleasure bursting low and all the fuck over, but my hand won’t stop.

And neither will the feeling.

Mason runs his tongue along his lower lip, and my hips fly up, chasing something, chasing more.

I need more.

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