Page 51 of Choosing the right Man

He doesn’t say anything else, just hangs up. I haven’t seen him in a few days so as I pull the file from my desk, I realize my hands are shaking.

“Ready, Chloe?” Jenny asks as she moves in front of my desk, her coat on, her purse slung over her shoulder.

I hold up the large file. “Boss wants this. Go ahead and take off without me. I might be a while,” I say with a laugh.

“Nothing like a last-minute request of the day,” Jenny says. She waves and walks out along with most of the other people in the office.

My knees are shaking as I move through the dimmed hallways. When the end of the day comes, and there’s not a late-night meeting, the team rushes from the building as fast as they can, especially on a Friday night. I was going to work out, but I have a feeling I’ll get a much more satisfying one in just a few minutes.

Sex with Mason works so many more muscles than any treadmill can hit. By the time I reach his door I’m practically panting. It’s cracked open, so I knock on it, then push it open. He’s leaning against his desk, his hungry gaze burning straight through me as our eyes lock.

“I have the report,” I say, my voice trembling. His lips curl up the smallest bit.

“Lock the door,” he tells me, his deep voice a low growl that goes straight to my groin.

I shut and lock the door, then slowly make my way to him. He loosens his tie as I stop a couple of feet from him. I’m a puddle as he starts unbuttoning his shirt. The file slips from my fingers. I don’t care.

I can’t turn away as he strips away every stitch of clothing, his beautiful body revealed to me, making my mouth water. Howis it possible a man can be this beautiful? He’s certainly been blessed.

“Your turn,” he hungrily demands.

He can command me anytime he wants. Without hesitation I slip off my jacket, then reach for the buttons of my baby blue blouse. My fingers are shaking so badly it’s difficult to undo the buttons, but after a few misses, I manage to unbutton it and push it off my arms.

He doesn’t move as I slowly get rid of my clothes. I’m not as confident as he is, standing in a bright room totally bare, but the way he’s looking at me sure helps. He wants me, and this is the biggest ego boost I can possibly get.

He closes the distance between us and pulls me against his hard body, his lips finally meeting mine. He owns me with his kiss, his masterful tongue tracing my mouth, his hands traveling up and down my spine before gripping my ass and pulling me tight against him where I can feel his hardness pushing against me. It doesn’t matter how many times we make love, it’s never enough.

He turns and lays me down on his desk. The cool wood feels good against my hot back. His hands, his big, beautiful hands, slowly make their way to the center of my chest, then lower over my stomach, which is quivering by the time he grazes his fingers over my wet core. But he won’t stay here. Of course he won’t. Just a quick brush of his fingers, then he moves his hands back up my body and circles my breasts, which are trembling with need.

Cupping my breasts as he squeezes, I have to press my thighs together as a moan escapes. Then, while holding the weight of my breasts in his palms, his thumbs brush across my nipples, and they instantly peak beneath his touch.

But again, he moves. “Please, Mason, quit teasing me,” I plead. I’m giving him exactly what he wants by begging. He lovesto torture me, and as much as I love the build-up, I need him inside me. He’s always the one in control. I don’t see this ever changing. I like it.

“Mmm, you feel so good beneath my fingers,” he growls, his hot breath washing over my skin as he leans down and presses his lips against my stomach. I push up, seeking him out.

“Then quit playing with me and give me what we both want,” I demand. He gives me an evil smile before lifting me again and turning me so I’m now leaning over the desk with him pressed against my backside. I spread my legs, an open invitation for him to plunge inside of me.

I try to press up against his arousal, and he clasps his hands over my trembling stomach. “Tsk, tsk, darling. You don’t get me until I allow it,” he says.

“I’ll torture you just as badly when it’s my turn,” I warn. He laughs, his thickness quivering against my butt, making me even wetter.

“You can try, but you’re always too eager to have me inside your hot, wet body,” he taunts.

“I hate it when you’re so confident,” I pout.

“No, you don’t. It’s one of the things you love most about me.”

And dang it, he’s right. I love his confidence. Actually, there isn’t anything about him I don’t love. He makes me scream in ecstasy and laugh with joy. This man is all I think about. And he knows it.

When I stop fighting him, he caresses my skin. This time, I stay as still as possible and let him take his time. I know he won’t be able to hold out much longer.

As much as Mason knows me, I also know him. And if I keep wiggling against his arousal, he won’t be able to tolerate it. He’ll take me hard and rough which I crave. He’ll fill me with his girth and make me forget everything except for him. We both need this. We each need what only the other can give.

One hand cups my breast while his thumb circles my tender nipple before squeezing it until I cry out, while the other hand trails down my body.

But this time, he isn’t teasing. This time, he dips his fingers into my wet heat, and I spread my legs wider so he can reach me more easily. His now wet fingers circle the part of me that’s throbbing, and my pleasure builds.

Before I’m able to reach my peak, he moves, sliding down my wet lips before dipping inside and pushing up, hitting my other favorite spot. This continues for several minutes, bringing me closer and closer before pulling away again. I want to protest, but he’s never left me feeling dissatisfied. And I know he’s as worked up as I am.

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