I roll my eyes. “I take no responsibility for that.”
Mason quickly nods his head at someone seated before commenting. “That’s okay because I take full responsibility for it.”
Mason and I spend most of the night apart. We are seated on opposite ends of the wedding table. Dinner and speeches happen while everyone is seated at their tables. Luca has a spot at the round guest table to the left of me, but he enjoys most of the night on my lap or running around with his cousins from Jess’s side of the family.
The typical events that you see occur during most wedding receptions go off without a hitch. The black, white, and blush-pink theme works perfectly with the white rose centerpieces and colorful uplighting.
“Mom, can you keep an eye on Luca real quick? I’m going to head to the bathroom.” I lean down to her, seated next to my dad.
“Of course,” she replies.
I decide to use the ladies’ room inside the bridal suite since the door to the suite itself locks, providing some privacy. I needa minute to collect myself after watching Mason laugh, joke, and be so effortlessly perfect all night.
During dinner, I heard him laughing with one of the groomsmen at the other end of the table, and I almost soaked my dress. I could listen to it all day. His laugh reminds me of seeing an opera for the first time. You never really find out why your experience is so emotional or how the sound is able to invade your soul, but somehow, it does. And as if the powerful show isn’t enough, his smile greets you with a sweet little nightcap, leaving you craving for more.
I shut and lock the door behind me. My eyes scan the suite, darting over the velvet couches and two vanities. I walk over to the same one that me and the other bridesmaids were getting ready on just a few hours earlier. Bright bulb lights line the mirror, and the top is covered with scattered makeup and colored face brushes. The room still smells like hairspray. Bending to one knee on one of the tufted stools, I lean over the top of the vanity to get a closer look at my face, making sure my makeup is still fully intact.
Suddenly, I’m startled by the sound of a door latching shut. I immediately whip my head around to see behind me.
“I found you,” Mason says. He takes off his tux jacket and lays it on the back of the pink velvet couch.
My heart trips and falls, plummeting right into the palm of his hand.
He found me.
I squint my eyes, looking over my shoulder. “I thought I locked that door,” I reply, still bending over the stool.
“You did. But luckily for me, it didn’t close all the way.” He smiles, loosening his bow tie. Mason swaggers over to me. “Do you want these back?” he asks, sliding his hand from his front pocket where my panties are now dangling off his curved index finger.
I turn to face him, crossing my arms at my chest. “Yes, I would actually.”
“Alright. I’ll give them back to you.” He glides his hands up the sides of my body, dipping with my curves before gently lifting me at my waist. He sets me on the top of the vanity table, pushing off all the makeup cases and brushes, sending them crashing loudly to the floor.
I rub my lips together, a grin pulling at the sides of my mouth.
My skin tingles as Mason runs his hands along my waist and stomach. I lean in, bringing my lips to his. His mouth is warm, familiar, and molds into mine. It moves purposefully, teasing me with a gentle touch.
“Spread your legs,” he softly demands while nibbling my bottom lip.
I’ve been anxiously waiting for this moment all night. Pulsating every single time he shoots me a glance from across the room. I pull my lips away from his and lean my back against the mirror. Gripping the hem of my dress, I slowly inch it up my legs, stopping right below my waist.
Standing back, his eyes widen, and he bites his lower lip. Then he eagerly drops to his knees, taking the space between my legs on the floor. The cold mirror pushes against my back, leaving a concentrated cool sensation as the rest of my body flushes with heat.
I’m taken aback by the view of seeing this incredibly sexy man on his knees, waiting to please me.
As soon as my dress is bunched at the top of my thighs, I open my legs in front of him. His pupils dilate, then he inches closer, looping his arms under my knees. The moment I feel his warm lips touch the sensitive skin at my core, my head falls back, and I let out a satisfying moan.
He takes his time kissing around the hood of my clit before sliding his tongue inside of me. “I want to taste you come,” he groans and brings me closer, getting deeper.
As Mason moves his tongue around my insides, tasting every bit of me, my legs tremble and shake. I frantically start reaching for something to hold on to and inadvertently knock the rest of the makeup containers on the floor. Shades of foundation and various colors of eyeshadow break open on the neutral-toned carpet, creating a mural of colors.
Mason isn’t fazed by the crashing sounds. He continues to dart in and out, fucking me with the tip of his tongue. Then he uses the flat part of his tongue to lick the wetness from the bottom of my crease to the top. Chills span my body, and it doesn’t take long for it to tense and my climax to build.
“Oh, my god, Mason,” I whimper, gripping the back of his head and holding him in place while I ride his face.
He groans again. “Come for me.”
“I will,” I say. Hearing his words pushes me over the edge. Heat shoots down my spine, my hips buck up into him, and I break out in goosebumps. He grabs me tighter as I try to wiggle away. I struggle to contain the heavenly sounds of pleasure falling out of me. Grabbing one of the white embroidered robes that’s hanging on the wall, I shove my face in it, muffling myself. My eyes are watering, and the air is sucked out of me.
