Page 60 of Mason

Mason’s hand slides back between my thighs and he rolls my clit between his fingers.

Correction. This is the most incredible feeling in the world.

I roll over and spread my legs, giving him full access. From this position, I can reach his cock. I wrap my hand around it, pleased to find it erect. He pushes his groin toward me, moaning with desire.

“Jesus, you’re wet,” he whispers.

He inserts two fingers and pulses them in and out while his thumb plays with my clit. My hand grips his cock, twisting around its girth with gentle ease. Impossibly, his erection intensifies.

Mason withdraws his fingers and kisses me softly on the lips. Desire flashes in his eyes, and suddenly he is flipped around on top of me, his cock hovering over my mouth, his mouth breathing hot air onto my pussy. His tongue darts inside and I take him into my mouth.

Our mouths move in tandem. Sucking. Tasting. Exploring.

Mason knows every inch of my body, and he proves it by deftly coaxing me into a fast-building orgasm. His tongue swirls and flicks, and then slides across my slit with slow, rhythmic strokes.

I clench his head between my thighs and grip the base of his penis, sucking it deeper into my mouth. The motions come easy, but I can’t focus, because Mason’s tongue is working its magic on my clit. My mouth stops moving just as my climax crests. My body shudders under the intensity as waves of pleasure roll through me. I dig my fingernails into his ass, thrusting his cock to the back of my throat, muffling the scream that comes with my climax.

When at last, the quakes ease, Mason withdraws his cock from my mouth and rolls me on top of him. I sit upright, straddling him, and he eases into me. My hips begin to move, grinding my pelvis back and forth.

He reaches up and cups my breasts. “I want you to fuck that cock,” he says, thrusting off the mattress. He pinches my nipples and squeezes. My pussy clenches, and I buck harder. I push down on his chest for purchase and bounce up and down on his cock, gaining speed.

His hands grip my waist, guiding me up and down.

My heart beats fast, and my breath comes in ragged gasps.

Mason’s cock pounds into me like a piston. I rock faster against him, savoring the friction on my clit, surprised to feel another climax building. Our bodies find rhythm. My fingernails scratch against his skin, clawing desperately against the rising pleasure.

“Damn it,” I scream. “You’re going to make me fucking come.”

“Do it,” he commands.

He thrusts hard and the orgasm crests just as I feel his own release. He spasms, and a rush of his come fills my pussy. We claw at each other, thrashing and screaming until the last wave of pleasure finally ends. Our bodies go limp.

I lean forward, pressing my forehead to his. “Fuck me.”

His mouth twists into a smirk. “I believe we just fucked each other.”

I throw back my head and laugh. “So we did, Mr. Wood. So we did.”

* * *

My nerves are like livewires, electric with unease.

Mason holds my hand tightly, but the sight of Lucas and Holden at the table makes my stomach clench. Even having Mason at my side isn’t enough to curb my anxiety. I can’t imagine what they could have to say to me.

“Don’t worry,” Mason says, out of the side of his mouth. “At your first signal, we’ll leave.”

If that were true, we’d already be gone. But this meeting is important to Mason, a chance, maybe, to create some goodwill. His partners don’t have to work with me, or even like me—but they do have to accept that I’m in Mason’s life. For good. Soon as his wife.

A bottle of champagne chills in the middle of the table.

Both men stand to greet me, offering tight smiles and stiff handshakes. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think they were as nervous as I am. Mason pulls back my chair and we sit, the four of us, staring at the bottle of champagne like it’s a lifeline.

Lucas clears his throat. “It seems we have something to celebrate.” He gestures to my ring. “Congratulations.” His voice goes quiet. “I believe we did say there was something different about you.”

“Special,” Holden amends. He pops the cork and pours each of us a glass. “To Mason and Olivia,” he says, holding his champagne up in salute.

We clink glasses, and I take a sip, allowing the bubbling liquid to calm some of my anxiety. Is it possible they’re genuinely happy for us?