“Mmmmm,” I murmur, his cock lodged in my throat, causing my voice to vibrate around him.
“Fuck,” he snaps. The hold on my hair intensifies as he winds it even tighter, his hips thrusting even faster, harder, unapologetically. His eyes find mine again, and realisation flashes across his face as I struggle to take him. I may be the one on my knees, with his hold on my hair, but he isn’t in control either. It’s been lost in the moment, a free-for-all as he fights my reflexes for release.
Forcing myself back, I drop to the floor, knowing he will follow, and he does. He doesn’t hesitate, lining himself up and thrusting inside me.
“Dripping. Fucking. Wet,” he rasps.
He starts to roll his hips into me, lifting my leg over his forearm to get to the perfect spot. “Mase, you feel so good,” I moan.
His eyes find mine, softening instantly, then his lips drop to mine, and he takes my mouth in a beautiful, slow kiss.
My leg falls to the side and he stills inside me, his arm still draped under my bent leg. His hand comes around and grasps my wrist in a stronghold. Our breathing is erratic, the only other noise between our deep, sucking kisses.
My body aches to have him, wanting more and less, and for this feeling never to end. “Mase, move. Please,” I beg, clenching around him.
A growl rumbles through his chest as he brings my arms up and around his shoulders, locking them behind his neck to keep him close. He gives me exactly what I want, rolling his hips perfectly until my body tightens and pressure builds at my core. And he knows it. His hand comes down, planting itself over my clit, tipping me over the edge and letting me free fall.
The primal need that comes over me has me focusing on nothing but the rising, inexplicable wave that’s coursing through my body. I feel nothing and everything all at once as my walls squeeze and relax in unison, my sex sucking him in deeper with its hungry release.
He stands, still buried deep inside me, my body wrapped around him. He sits down on the sofa, my body straddling his. “Fuck me, Pixie,” he whispers.
The position has me sinking farther onto him, aftershocks still rippling through my core. “I can feel you, baby,” he groans, his mouth sucking at my throat.
I begin to roll my hips. Hard. Deep. A small circle.
His head comes up and he looks at me, his hair a dishevelled mess. “I might just keep you. Don’t fucking stop,” he says, planting a chaste kiss on my lips.
Using all the energy I have left, I ride him, working my hips under his hold to get him to the point of ecstasy. He comes inside of me, groaning out my name as his mouth falls from my puckered nipple.
His body shakes as his face nuzzles into my chest.
I go to speak, but nothing comes out. Reaching up instead, I run my hand through his smooth hair. My eyes catch a gold glint behind his head. I pull my wrist forward, looking over the gold band that now adorns my wrist.
“I’ll send everything else back,” he says, looking up at me with hesitant eyes. “But keep that. Please.”
“I could get used to those manners, Bossman.” I smile, giving him a long, lazy kiss.
We lie on the cushioned floor wrapped in a soft woollen blanket, my body curled into Mason’s side. My body feels lax, but there’s still an ache pulsing through my entire body, reminding me of the incredible night we’re leaving behind.
I lift my head from Mason’s chest, stealing a piece of cheese from the platter he’d made earlier. “How long did you spend getting all this ready today?” I ask, gesturing around the room.
The majority of the candles are burnt out with wax pooling on the hardwood floors.
“Hours,” he says dramatically.
I chuckle, licking the salt from my lips. “It’s beautiful. No one has ever treated me like this. It could be the best date I’ve ever been on, you know. Definitely the best sex for a first date.”
“Just the first date, huh, like you’ve had better?” he mutters, feigning hurt but still smiling. “How bad did you feel? Coming downstairs and seeing all my hard work?”
I bring a piece of cheese to his mouth, letting my finger linger as his tongue comes out to swipe it. “I really did feel bad. I just…”
“I know, you don’t want me to buy you things,” he finishes for me.
“Mase. My mum, she wasn’t the best role model growing up. The thought of becoming her?—”
“You’re nothing like your mother, Nina.”
“Uh, no. I’m not,” I say, confused by his tone and that he thinks he knows me well enough to form an opinion. “But I promised myself a long time ago that I wouldn’t rely on anyone else, and I won’t be bought with shiny things. I know you have money, and I appreciate the gesture. It’s all so thoughtful. I just— I feel uncomfortable with you spending money on me. It’s not why I’m here.”
