Page 9 of Stood Up
“Open them,” he orders, and my body instantly complies causing my heart to squeeze at his intensity. “Better.”
Mason continues what feels like forever in a torturously slow rhythm. Enough, but not quite keeping me right on the edge. My body hums with need and fire. I just need a small match so I can blow. Grinding my hips, I try to get there.
Sweat beads from Mason’s brow, and I realize his neck is strained. The veins bulging and thumping hard while his muscles are taught defining each one. This must be difficult for him, holding off, so why isn’t he putting himself over the edge. Why does he need to watch me?
“Harder,” I whisper.
His lips connect with mine while he gives me what I want, his hips moving like a machine. I burst to the limits. Air is sucked from my lungs. White lights explode behind my now closed eyelids, and I scream so damn loud I’m sure the neighbors can hear. He thrusts harder, and I feel his cock grow then twitch inside of me as his come fills me. He rests his forehead on mine as the last tremors come from his body, then his body falls against me pressing me hard into the bed.
Sweat covers both of us, and our heavy breathing is the only sound in the room. As the scents of both of us mingle along with the sex in the air, I breathe it in memorizing it, knowing that when I’m lying in bed with my vibrator, I’ll remember this exact moment.
That was either the sexiest thing I’ve ever been a part of, or the most terrifying. The connection between us was like nothing I’ve ever felt. So, the verdict is still out on how I should feel right now.
Mason rolls me to my side; my eyes close, and exhaustion hits me like a lead balloon. I’ve never had sex be so good, so exhausting that sleep was a must afterward.
“Sleep,” he says, kissing my lips and holding me close, his cock still inside of me. I succumb.
* * *
Iwake with a start. My eyes searching the room then remembering where I am. Strong arms hold me tight, and between my legs is deliciously sore and a bit sticky. He took me three more times during the night, waking me up once with his dick already inside of me pumping in and out. I lost count of the orgasms. All I know is my body is relaxed and happy. Hopefully also stockpiled for a long while.
Light peers through the curtains that I didn’t pay much attention to last night, and I look over at the clock. Shit. Nine-thirty. I have a client meeting at noon.
Ever so carefully, I pull out of his arms and exit the bed feeling Mason trickle down my leg. Holy hell, that man filled me up. I enter the bathroom that is off to the side of the room. I do my business and clean myself up as best and as quiet as I can. A shower when I get home is a must.
Exiting, I slip on my dress and grab my shoes. I’ve never done the walk of shame before, so I’m taking this as another rite of passage. Two in the course of twenty-four hours. This is a world record for me. I’m turning into a rebel. Not.
I look at Mason. The sheet only covers his bottom half, and with his arms raised above him every muscle is taught and defined. I really can’t believe I slept with him. And liked it. No, loved it.
One night. I remind myself, shake my head, grab my purse on the way out and leave.
I’ll never see Mason Dean again, but he’ll always be a fantastic memory.
