Unsure whether she is going to cry if I don’t comply soon, I smile a rather smug smile and decide breasts works as well as tits, maybe better and the way she says nipples is the cutest thing I have heard for a while. With a snarl for my inner voice’s mocking I focus on my girl calling me babe after her previous use of Mase. Yes, she is desperate already.
“Oh, poor baby,” I coo as I reach for the hem of her t-shirt and pull it from her in one fluid movement with the help of her throwing her arms up.
She is wearing a white lace bra that kind of hides nothing as her breasts swell over the top of the cups and her nipples are clearly pinched tight and hard, their rosy glow shining through the sheer fabric.
“Mase, please, don’t tease me anymore.” She reaches behind her to unfasten her bra before slipping the straps of it down her arms, revealing herself to me, tempting me with her breasts that look painful, her nipples engorged and I succumb to the temptation that is my girl’s hot as hell body.
Slowly my hands move up from her hips in perfect synchronicity until they are cupping the heavy swell of her breasts, weighing them. Her head is thrown back, her eyes rolling as she mewls her need for more and I am happy to give her more in the form of my thumbs stroking up until they are gently brushing her nipples.
“Oh God!” she moans at the briefest touch while her hips take on a life of their own, thrusting over my groin, rocking herself against my hard dick. “More Mase, harder, please.”
Gently, I roll her nipples between my finger and thumb and then squeeze them, causing her to arch her back as she cries out in tortured ecstasy. That may not be exactly what she had in mind when she asked for harder, but she’s not complaining.
“Babe, please, I need you.” She pleads so sincerely that I have to check she isn’t crying real tears. She isn’t, but I can see that it wouldn’t take much to have tears escaping her eyes that are glittering with desire, frustration and burning need.
“What do you need, Livy?” I give her nipples another squeeze that seems to propel her in the air and ever closer to release as she digs her nails into my shoulders, and she is still dressed from the waist down.
“I need to feel you inside me, right now,” she replies with total honesty that I simply cannot resist.
“Then you need to lose some clothes,” I point out, making my girl giggle like a crazy woman as she springs from my lap and unashamedly casts her remaining clothes aside until she stands in just a tiny, lace thong that matches the bra that’s somewhere across my office. She’s standing with her back to me, flashing her glorious arse cheeks, teasing me with a sexy as hellcome fuck meexpression over her shoulder. “Baby,” I say as a clear warning but am already getting to my feet and releasing my ridiculously hard dick from the confines of my trousers as I approach her. “Unless you want your very little knickers ripping off you, I suggest you remove them and decide how and where you want this.” I stroke myself for her eyes that are fixed on my erection. I am enclosing it in my hand more firmly the closer I get to her.
Chapter 36
Olivia
I am giddy from my encounter on Mason’s desk and although I know my face has a huge, smug smirk plastered across it I am unsure whether it is because of endorphins still flooding my system or, and possibly more likely, that I am literally high on the sensations that being with Mason triggers within my body, heart and soul. The sweet ache between my thighs would suggest it’s definitely the latter. I smirk to myself again as I remember having to lie down, alone, on the sofa in Mase’s office for at least ten minutes to compose myself before risking seeing anyone else for fear that everyone would know exactly what we’d been up to by my hot, flushed and sweaty appearance, not to mention the fact that I was convinced that I smelled of pure sex.
After a quick shower and a change of clothes into a loose fitting white, linen, knee length skirt and slim fitting t-shirt, over clean underwear, I am giving Mason’s office a final once over before heading off home, to my flat when Sean calls to me.
“Liv, you got a minute?”
I glance at my phone and see that although I don’t really have much time as I will miss my train, I don’t want to cut Sean off as things have been a little tense since I found myself unemployed. Sean and I, and Mason, are aware of the fact that some of the things Christian threw at me had come directly from Sean and I know that makes him uncomfortable and a little wary, especially of my boyfriend, but I like Sean, always have and I don’t want to fall out with him.
“Course,” I say with a smile.
“I just wanted to clear the air.”
I nod, confirming my desire to do the same.
“I’m sorry things didn’t work out with Mr Peterson and I am sorrier if anything I witnessed here was used against you by him.”
“You mean you blabbed that Mase and I spent a fair bit of time behind closed doors, reappearing in different clothes?” I regurgitate my former boss’ snotty words in a flat tone.
At least Sean has the decency to look uncomfortable and embarrassed.
“Sorry,” he repeats, making me feel a bit sorry for him so I allow myself a smile for him, a genuine one.
“It’s fine. It’s done, Sean. Maybe I needed to get to the point where my career was no longer under Christian Peterson’s control and now it isn’t.”
I push the notion that my career is now under someone else’s control out of my head, although I trust Mase to do the right thing by me and my work, unlike Peterson. The problem with Mase having any influence over my career is that he is likely to give me opportunities or facilitate them even if I haven’t earned them.
“And you’re happy, right?” Sean asks sounding as though he needs reassurance. “I mean with your work and Mason?”
“Yes, very. Look Sean, it’s fine, we’re good, but I really need to dash. I’ve got a train to catch,” I explain and am pleased when he returns my smile because I have no desire to create an atmosphere between us and I understand that he hadn’t intended to stir trouble or have his tales of what I was doing with Mason used against me, although my boyfriend seems more inclined to hold a grudge.
“Good, and thanks, I hope we can still be friends.”
“No problem,” I call, grabbing my faithful backpack to make the dash to the nearby station in my trusted flats, something I haven’t done for what feels like a hundred years rather than a matter of weeks.
