Page 146 of Gin and Lava

“I take back the no-sex rule,” Mason whispers. “I consent. Please, I need—”

I’m kissing him back.

I don’t want to think. I just want to sink into this comforter with him. Feel him and get lost in him and forget the consequences. And Mason responds with so much perfect softness and perfect pressure that I feel like that ring on my finger when he touched it earlier; his caress sweet and loving and personal. It does something to me that I don’t understand. It makes me want to slow everything down so I can feel every second, every bit of Mason.

We kiss for so long I become a ball of slow-burning fire. I forget I’m wearing clothing, because every kiss and caress feels like he’s already burned right through them. But when he peels off my shirt and bra, and covers my nipples with his mouth, I want everything. I want all of him, and to burn, and burn, and burn.

And the crazy thing that hitches my heart is I know it’s not the Viking Princess he’s worshiping right now. It’s just me. Just Naomi: that nobody girl he can’t seem to get enough of. Me with my tiny tits and my skinny frame and so much Mason above me that he literally takes my breath away.

He shifts lower to pull down my jeans and underwear, broiling a cauldron of desire in my core as he drags my clothes down my thighs … my calves … my ankles. Then Mason’s hands and mouth run over me like I’m made of gold: precious, beautiful metal, like my jewelry. But I’m naked of jewelry. The only piece I’m wearing is that ring—that ring that’s me. That ring that could be our fake engagement ring if I wanted it to be.

Our bodies mold and rock, and I don’t know when Mason removed his boxers, but my hands run over his bare ass, and his hips are positioned between my thighs. And I’m moaning because the shaft of his beautiful, thick cock is sliding against my silken folds—but he isn’t inside me yet.

“You feel so perfect,” I whisper, and he smiles against my mouth, moving a hand between us so he can adjust himself. I gasp as he luxuriously runs the head of his cock through my wetness.

“You keep using that word, Princess,” he says as he continues to tease me with his thick head. “I don’t think it means what you think it means.”

I moan, needing him to split me in half.

“Okay,” I concede. “Then start fucking me and show me what it really means.”

“Patience,” he whispers in my ear, continuing to touch me slowly and deliberately. And God, it’s like he knows not giving me what I want is even more of a turn on. I’ve been ravenous for Mason before, but right now I’m breathless. And part of me wants to beg—like before—but damn, I just know he’ll keep teasing me if I do that. So I wait in feverish heat, growing hotter and more delirious with anticipation.

I widen my legs for him, and grip what little of him I can get with my pussy, wantonly tasting the crown of this dick as he swipes it past my entrance. I’m on the edge. I seriously feel like I could orgasm at any second—and he hasn’t even had the decency to push his tip inside me.

“I’m so turned on, I’ll probably come when you enter me,” I warn.

I reach back to grip the sheets above my head, and like those were the magic words, Mason positions himself in the nook of my entrance. Oh, yes! Oh dear sweet God, he’s about to—

But then he doesn’t. He stops instead and looks down at me.

Really looks.

I don’t know what he sees, but his breath deepens. And with incredible restraint, he runs his hands up my full body length without entering me.

“Mason …”

Big, wide hands claim my skin. They caress my thighs and hips, my stomach and my ribs. His palms cover my tits, then find their way up my arms to my hands. Every part of me that he touches burns with sensation as if all of my skin was connected and he’s waking every nerve ending.

Our fingers lace together and he grips my hands, the pressure shooting heat down my forearms. He’s pretty much doing a plank above me with his body taught and rigid and, with incredible control, he leans down and brushes his lips across mine—and we breathe together.

In and out.

Together as one.

In and out.

And then he squeezes my hands—

Lowers his hips—

And with slow, unbearable sweetness, Mason pushes in.

I let out a noise that isn’t a moan or a wail, but some other inhuman sound that crests from my throat. It’s a declaration that I need to worship this unholy feeling of him prying me open.

He pulls his cock back softly, then pushes deeper—with no rush—making me feel every huge inch of him inside myself.

“Mason, I—I—”

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