“Such agoodgirl.”
She freezes for a moment before pushing me away. “I- I don’t want to do this.”
I’m still gripping her ass, my knuckles white and I want to laugh at her trying to get away from me. I want my cock in her, I want to feel her tighten around me, fucking her furiously…
“Gibraltar,”she says coldly, her sad, determined expression bringing me back to sanity.And like I regained control of myself when Michael pulled me off that broken body, her safe word does the same thing now.
“I’m going to take a shower.” I nod, leaving her standing in the hall with her smudged lipstick and her heaving chest.
***
The hot water beats down on me as I rest my hands against the tile. My head’s clearing now. What happened to me was blood lust, I’m used to that. I can control it. But there’s more here, there are deeply unknowable emotions.
I went undercover with my cousin Logan’s wife, Arabella, a few months ago to rescue her friend.
“Dinnae leave me, aye?” she whispered, squeezing my hand until her knuckles were white.
“Not even for a moment.” I’d promised.
I’d felt… protective. Nothing sexual but I felt a powerful responsibility for her, to keep her safe. I am responsible for my family’s safety, of course. I’d die for any one ofthem in a heartbeat. But this surge of protectiveness is new. Uncomfortable. But unmistakable.
It’s for one person only. My wife must be kept safe above all else.
Chapter Sixteen
In which there is so much action. Just not together.
Afton…
I wanted to.
God, I wanted to stay in the hallway and wrap my legs around Mason’s narrow waist and let him rail me into oblivion. I wanted it so much.
And then he saidit.
“Good girl,” he’d said. And I knew we were back to my husband “handling me.”
Trudging slowly up the stairs, I can hear the shower running in the master bathroom.
You could just walk in there. Strip down and join him…
Gritting my teeth, I head for the guest bedroom and a shower of my own. Furiously scrubbing myself, I try not to think about what Mason looks like naked, wearing nothing but his tattoos, drops of water glistening on his wide shoulders. His thighs, thick with muscle. Other thick body parts.
My hand slides down without any conscious thought, fingers circling around my clitoris as I think about those gorgeous, vividly colored tattoos. I’d trace every one of them with my tongue, I’d bite his shoulder. I never expected to be thrown around so casually, but Mason did, like I weighed no more than the pillows on the bed.
One finger goes inside me, then two. They’re not long enough, I can’t find the places my husband did, first with his fingers and then when I was half-senseless with need, his cock. It’s enough to send a desperate flutter down my spine and my walls tighten against my fingers.
***
“…Keep moving those fingers. Don’t stop.”
Mason is leaning against the wall, arms folded, his cock straining against his stomach and without a stitch of clothing to hide it. “Go on. Show me what you like.”
Fantasy Me is much braver than Real Me and I add another finger thrusting inside me, the heel of my hand grinding against my clitoris as my other hand plays with my nipple. Mason’s eyes never leave mine, but his hand wraps around his alarmingly huge dick, squeezing it, stroking it in the same rhythm my fingers are inside me.
“So bonnie ye are,” he groans. “Put your leg up on the seat. Let me see you. Spread your lips. Those pretty, pink nipples are standing out and begging me to bite them, suck on them. I’m going to make you come just by playing with your breasts one night, but now, show me how you make yourself orgasm. So pretty when ye come.”
I suck in a deep breath, watching his gaze drop to my breasts. His hand is moving along his shaft, his thumb stroking over the wet, silky head. Mason’s cock is… well, acock.Not a member or a penis or manhood. It’s a cock, thick, stiff with veins swelling, balls drawn tight and that wide, red tip is leaking clear fluid as his hand moves faster and so do I.
