Desperate for more, I wrap my hand around hers, tightening her grip and moving it up and down the way I like it. The way I need it. My hips move, fucking into the tight hold of our combined hands, the soft skin of her palm so different from mine.
And like that, with her avidly watching me, her naked body pressed against me, her taste still fresh on my tongue, it takes almost no time at all for me to shoot my load all over my own stomach. Her head jerks back as the first spurt goes flying, a soft, “Oh,” of surprise leaving her lips.
After spending myself, I slump back on the couch, eyes closed, my chest heaving like I just ran a mile. Viola gently tugs her hand out from under mine, and I flinch at the sensation on my oversensitive dick.
I open my eyes when I feel soft fabric brushing over my torso. She shoots me a crooked smile as she cleans me off with my shirt. “I figured you’d already used it to clean up.”
Smiling back, I pull her face to mine for a kiss. “Thank you. We should eat before the food’s inedible. Then it’s shower time.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Viola
Covering my breasts with one hand, I reach for my shirt, but Mason’s hand stops me. He pulls me close for another sweet kiss. When we break apart, his eyes sparkle with wicked humor. “I’ve had my mouth all over your body. No reason to be shy now.”
A blush heats my skin, but I nod. He has a point, after all. And like he feels the need to even the score, he stands and shoves the rest of his clothes to the floor, kicking them away so that he stands before me in all his naked glory—firm shoulders and cut biceps with ink flowing over them and down to his wrists, delightful pecs covered in a swirl of dark hair that trails over his flat stomach past his belly button, like a path leading straight to his dick. It’s still half hard and glistening with the remnants of his come.
“Can I sit now?” he asks, making me tear my attention away from his body and bring it back to his face.
Another blush blazes over my face and chest, heating the tips of my ears. “Of course. Why couldn’t you sit?”
Shrugging, he settles on the couch. “I didn’t want to interrupt. You seemed to be having a moment, there.”
“I was, thank you,” I answer primly, because what else is there to say? He caught me checking him out. I probably shouldn’t be embarrassed about it. But it’s easy to tell myself not to be embarrassed. It’s not so easy to stop myself from blushing. If I had the power to control that, I’d have exerted it a loooong time ago.
He surprises me with a kiss on my shoulder. “Don’t worry. I like checking you out too.”
We pick through the now-lukewarm food in companionable silence. Steak drizzled with a sauce that’s to die for, the flash fried veggies that are better than any vegetable has the right to be, and a small plate with two brownies for dessert. I decided to order those on a whim, despite trying my best to stick to Mason’s meal plan. He moans around the chocolate confection, and when I take a bit of my own, I see why. Bits of chocolate fill the rich and chewy brownie, baked to perfection. The only thing that would make it better is if it were warm. And topped with ice cream. Even so, it’s delicious.
“This almost tastes as good as you,” Mason says in a dark voice, causing another furious blush to riot over my skin.
I shiver when he leans over and licks the side of my neck and sucks my earlobe into his mouth. I can’t even verbalize a response of any kind.
Straightening up, he pops the last of his brownie into his mouth and stands. After brushing his hands together over a plate a few times, he saunters off without a word, disappearing into the bedroom.
I finish my own brownie and begin to take stock of the room. He said he wants a shower, but I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do right now. I have no idea what the protocol is for this kind of situation. Is there a protocol for band assistants having sex with their band members? Whether or not some sort of protocol does exist, it’s not like Mason follows everyone’s rules anyway.
What it boils down to is, what should I do now? Does he expect me to stay? Or should I get dressed and head back to my own room? I mean, it’s been a long, busy day, and I could use a shower too, though I don’t really want to wash the feel of him off my skin.
Still, I can’t be like those silly sitcoms where the young girl holds her cheek after the guy she likes kisses it and declares, “I’ll never wash this cheek again.”
That’s just unsanitary. And asking for breakouts.
So I’ll definitely wash all my body parts again. But I’ll do so with the memory of Mason’s mouth on them for a long, long time to come.
He saunters back in and extends a hand in my direction. Confused, I tilt my head to one side and just look at him, letting my expression ask my question.
He lifts his chin toward the bedroom. “Shower time.”
I blink up at him for a second. “I didn’t realize you meant for me to join you.”
A smile tips the corners of his mouth. “Of course. You think I’m done with you already?” He shakes his head slowly. All that’s missing is a soft tut to indicate my foolish assumption.
Smiling back at him, I place my hand in his and let him pull me to my feet. He leads me to the steaming walk-in shower, pulling me in front
