Each thrust pushes her forward, and she bounces back against me on trembling arms. I’m not sure how much longer she’ll be able to hold herself up, and while I don’t have a problem following her down to the bed and fucking her while she lies on her belly, that’ll restrict my hand, and I want her to get off before her arms give out.
My fingers move faster, no longer the lazy grazing circles that serve as the prelude, but fast rubbing that I know will take her to the climax.
Her fingers curl into the comforter as I drive into her over and over, my lips mapping the curve of her shoulder. All her muscles seem to be pulling impossibly tighter beneath me, and I can’t wait for the moment when the bands snap and she goes all loose and fluid.
She’s so fucking sexy that it takes all my willpower to hold back my own orgasm. Yeah, if I blew first, I know I’d have no problem getting her there after me. But that’s not how I want this to go. I need to feel her gripping my cock with her pussy, that sweet, hot friction my favorite way to come. The pleasure of release amplified by knowing how much pleasure I’m giving her.
And it happens. She lets out a small cry, almost like she’s surprised by her orgasm, and her pussy clenches around me as I ride her through her orgasm, my fingers never stopping until her arms finally give out. First she goes down on her elbows, but even that’s too much effort, and I withdraw my hand so I can hold her hips up with my arm hooked under her, my own orgasm waiting in the wings.
Seconds later that same bliss washes over my body in a wave of heat as I empty myself inside her. We stay locked together for a few more seconds, but my own muscles are ready to give out, drained from my own orgasm, and I let her slip out of my arms. She sort of slow-mo flattens onto the bed, and I collapse next to her with a chuckle.
She turns her head to face me, a shy grin on her lips.
My own smile stretches across my face, and I open my mouth, the words, “I love you,” ready to slip out. But I come to my senses before I give them voice. Instead I roll onto my side and kiss her, then lever myself up with one arm to give her a playful slap on the ass.
“Shower time. I’ll get it started, but if you’re not in there by the time the water warms up, I’ll come get you.” I lean down so my mouth is close to her ear. “And then I plan on trying out that plan I mentioned last week.”
She pulls back and gives me a quizzical look. “What plan?”
I give her my best wolfish grin. “The one where I eat you all night.” Before she can do more than give me that shocked look I find so adorable when I say something she finds outrageous, I climb off the bed and head for the bathroom.
Neither of us might get much sleep tonight. But it’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Viola
Collapsing on a greenroom couch, I take a much-needed break. The guys are finishing up another sound check in another city, Mason’s been extra interested in keeping me up all night lately, and we’ve only had one rest day in the last two weeks.
I’m exhausted, but there’s still dinner, meet and greets, a concert, and more meet and greets before Mason makes me come at least twice and I can finally let sleep overtake me for a few hours.
Yawning so big my jaw creaks and my eyes water, I pull an energy drink out of my bag along with my tablet. Opening up the email app, I scan the subject lines to see what needs my immediate attention.
One from the PR company labeled Dates for Mason snags my attention. Clicking on it, I skim the paragraph explaining that they’ve selected a group of candidates they deem appropriate for him to be seen with on the red carpet at the upcoming awards show where they’ll be performing their hit single with Beckett at the end of our concurrent tour schedule.
I read the list of names. It’s not long. Only five or six “candidates.” The energy drink I just swallowed threatens to make a reappearance, but I force it back down.
There’s still almost three weeks before this event, so it wasn’t on my immediate radar. Three weeks in tour land is an eternity. But it also seems to fly by, and I know those three weeks will pass in a blink.
Closing my eyes, I force myself to take deep breaths and calm down. But imagining Mason with some beautiful starlet on his arm makes me want to hurl. Mine keeps reverberating in my head over and over and over, an unending echo of the word that popped into my head as soon as I laid eyes on that list.
I have to think about this rationally. Mason’s a star. And according to the public, he’s single. Sure, everyone on the tour knows we’re together, but we haven’t appeared in the entertainment news together. As the drummer, he’s less in the public eye than Marcus or even Danny, who’s something of a media darling with his adorable kids and loving wife. Plus we’re in the middle of a tour, so it’s not like there’s the opportunity to go out on a date where the paparazzi might take our picture. And let’s be honest, we haven’t really discussed the parameters of our relationship beyond sex.
Are we a couple? Like a real couple like Marcus and Kendra or Blaire and Beckett?
Or are we just friends who fuck?
Sighing, I consciously release my
