Page 114 of Letting Go at 40

“Whatcha doing, sweetheart?”

“Just need to be closer to you.” I tuck against his chest, placing my ear on the center, listening to the strength of his heartbeat.

Mason is alive. He’s here. He’s present. And he isn’t going anywhere. These are reminders I tell myself as the boat lulls me and his heat warms my skin.

Mason kisses the top of my head, lingering there as we quietly sit, watching the sun slowly disappear. He takes another pull from the bottle then mutters, “Can think of a way to be closer.”

I chuckle against him. Lifting my head, I look up and his eyes say it all.

Mason likes sex. He’s good at it. And he’s introduced me to a side of myself I didn’t know existed.

I’m enjoying the newer Anna.

And now is the time to act on her again.

I slip from Mason’s lap, and he tugs the towel around his waist free. With the bottle in his hand, he spreads his arms. “Take what you need from me, baby. Make me yours.”

He’s already hard, but still, I reach for him, making a tight fist around his firm length, squeezing, tugging, feeling the weight, and marveling in the fact I do this to him.

“Climb on my lap. Put me back inside that lush body.”

My skin heats, certain my face has turned red, but his words spur me on. Mason often talks this way to me, giving me the power to take what I want while he’s demanding I do things.

On your knees, Anna.

Suck me, sweetheart.

Touch yourself, baby.

Things I want but still love his command, because I know I’m the one really in control. If I ever said no, he’d stop. I haven’t turned him down yet, and with this thick length in my hand, I do as he asks.

I lose the wet towel wrapped around my body but keep the blanket draped over my shoulders. Then I climb his lap, and straddle his legs, pressing my center against his hard shaft. I rock back and forth a few times, spreading myself over him.

“Fuck, Anna. This body.” One hand skims up my side, molding to my shape like a sculptor admiring his art. Then he’s squeezing one breast and dipping his mouth to the other, licking my nipple. The tips are already tight and peaked from the cold water and cool air, and his mouth is a fiery contrast. Excitement burns within me.

“Slide my dick inside you, baby. Take what’s yours.”

Jesus. His words send a ripple through my body like the sudden rush of a river, and I slide up his length, balancing on the tip, before lowering over him, drawing him into me.

“Fuck.” He groans, eyes closing a second as I still and adjust to the fullness. When he first entered me earlier, the sensation was overwhelming. The connection. The exposure. The intimacy. I’d forgotten how good this feels.

With my fingers digging into his hair, Mason tips his head back and I glide up and down his length, finding a rhythm of friction that quickly turns my simmer to a boiling need.

“That’s it, sweetheart. Fuck me.”

His crass words have my eyes snapping to his.

“The things you do to me. My body. My heart.” He slaps at his chest. “You could shatter me, but fuck do I want to be broken by you.”

I stare at him as I ride him harder, hands landing on his shoulders.

He could break me as well. I haven’t felt anything like this. This freedom. This control. This power. I don’t want it to end yet the build comes, stacking up brick by brick until I know the wall will tumble.

“I . . .” My breath hitches. “It’s going to . . .” I’m going to crash and crumble and enjoy the topple. Because I fall. I fall hard and deep, digging my nails into his shoulders and riding him faster than I’ve ever done.

“There’s my girl,” Mason proudly grunts as I hammer over him, drawing him tighter inside me as I let go.

Then, a shaky wall starts building again.