Page 33 of The Shattered Kingdom
Mason’s the only thing keeping the burning from spreading. He grabs the short sleeves of my dress and eases them down my shoulders. I’m not wearing a bra.
“Just for a second,” Mason says. “I promise.”
His green eyes are vibrant as he stares at my exposed chest, his pupils darting from one nipple to the other before returning to my face. He looks devastated, like he’s confident this is the only chance he’ll ever get to see and touch me. It is.
It’s just that his attention feels so good, and I can’t remember the last time I’ve been touched. I’ve spent the past several years caring for Lill, and there hasn’t been time for a relationship, casual or otherwise. I’ve been lonely, and Mason’s desperate, and who am I to sayno?
“I want more,” he admits.
Me, too. Fuck. I hate that.
I place my hand on Mason’s head. His hair is soft, and I allow myself only half a second to enjoy it before pushing him downward.
“This will never happen again,” I say. “Make it count.”
His warm tongue lashes over my nipple, and a hand slips upthe bottom of my dress. He’s not letting this opportunity go to waste. My underwear is pushed to the side, and I jolt as Mason’s finger trails along my slit.
He’s panting against my chest.
I gasp, leaning against the wall. “Mason!”
“I know. I’ll be quick.”
Mason drops to his knees, yanking my dress up my legs with one hand and my underwear down with the other. There’s a rip of fabric, and then my thigh is pulled over his shoulder and his face is between them.
“Mace! We shouldn’t—”
I slam my head against the wall as he licks up my slit. Then he moans—fucking moans—and licks me again. Zaha’s a bitch to make the bond feel this good. The mere thought of stopping Mason is agonizing.
My hips twitch. “More.”
Mason finds my clit, and each lash of his tongue is accompanied by a low, throaty moan. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he’s enjoying this even more than I am. He’s exploring, too. Soft, tentative licks are quickly followed up with rough, confident ones.
Mason’s a fast learner and surprisingly observant.
“Show me what you like,” he orders, pulling back just slightly. “I want to make this good for you.”
Happy to. I grab a handful of Mason’s hair and rock against his tongue, my thighs shaking. I don’t think I could stop if I wanted, my every thought consumed by Mason and his tongue and my rapidly approaching orgasm. I’m pulling his hair in every direction, probably ripping out the strands, but he doesn’t seem to mind.
I use it to guide his mouth, fearful he will change the position and I’ll have to start over. He doesn’t, though. For once in his life,he’s obedient.
“Don’t stop,” I order. “I’m so close.”
Mason’s fingers dig into my ass, helping to hold me steady as I rub myself against his tongue. Just a few more seconds and I’ll be there. The orgasm is coiling, building between my thighs with an intensity I’m not expecting.
I dig my heel into Mason’s back and slam a hand over my mouth, muffling my cry as it hits me. Mason licks me through it, continuing until I shiver and push him away.
“I…” I’m at a loss for words.
Mason peers up at me, smirking as he wipes his lips and jaw with the back of his hand. “Never thought I’d find so much enjoyment in being on my knees.”
“That’s not—”
Mason jumps to his feet, all traces of amusement vanishing as he rips open the bathroom door and disappears into the hallway. Where is he going? It’s not unusual for Mason to storm off in a flurry—it’s one of his least attractive traits—but I wasn’t expecting him to do so only seconds after having his mouth on me.
I fix my dress, pulling the sleeves back up and smoothing down the hem. My underwear is nowhere to be seen, I suspect having been stolen by the shifter. I fear what he’s going to do with it.
The mirror above the sink taunts me, tempting me to look. I avoid it. I’m not proud of myself, and I’m not interested in seeing my reflection at this very moment. I won’t like the person looking back at me.
