I shook my head.
“I wasn’t talking to you.” He chuckled as he ran his fingers back and forth across my clit like starting a fire with a stick and a rock.
I panted and screamed in short bursts. Unable to catch my breath. I sucked in and out and prayed his hand would wear out.
As I was ready to give in, the pleasure seized every muscle in my body and I had no choice but to ride it out. I held my breath as the orgasm rippled through me.
It wasn’t until another shockwave hit me that I realized Mase hadn’t let up.
* * *
“Stop, please.”I slapped at his hands.
He laughed, but continued.
“Mase, stop,” I yelled and pushed his hands away. I scrambled backwards, crashing into the headboard. I tucked my legs under me and placed a pillow on my lap as an extra barrier between me and his hands and his cock and anything else he wanted to use on me.
He crawled up toward me with a cocky grin.
An aftershock made my lower body twitch.
“Please,” I held one hand in front of me and hugged the pillow to my chest. “I can’t take any more.”
“Told you I’d make you beg.” He smirked. He laid a wet sloppy kiss to my cheek, flipped on his back and laid his head on the pillow in my lap.
He reached behind him.
I flinched.
He grabbed my hand and laced his fingers between mine and held my hand.
I stared down at our interlocked fingers.
I looked at him. I took stock of the man before me, who reminded me of the man who left.
He was harder, stronger, more serious.
Life did that to people.
I should know.
The rough sex and two mind blowing orgasms brought us closer together, but all it took was him holding my hand to make me feel stable and safe. His touch felt like home.
It felt like life.
Like it used to feel before it all went to shit.