My hands slip beneath the hem of his hoodie and t-shirt, skirting across the dips of his abdominals. He’s hard and hot all over, and I tug until I pull both tops off and drop them to the floor along with his hat, which gets knocked off in the process.
Someone sign this man up for an underwear endorsement. He is H-O-T, hot, hot, hot, my inner cheerleader declares.
He doesn’t give me long to appreciate his hotness before his mouth is attacking mine again. He sucks on my bottom lip, the bite of his teeth making me weak in the knees in a way that would have me melting into a puddle on the floor if I were standing.
Speaking of puddles, my bladder chooses this moment to remind me of all the beer I consumed playing flip cup.
What a clam jam. My inner cheerleader isn’t the only one pouting as my head thunks against the wall in frustration.
“What’s wrong, babe?” Mase asks, one of his dimples peeking out.
“I have to pee.” I cringe as I say the words. Talk about breaking boundaries.
His other dimple makes an appearance, clearly entertained by my admission. The frosty look I give him has zero effect as he sets me on my feet, the smack on my ass when I turn for the bathroom only proving this further. Even through the thick wood of the door, I can hear his deep rumbling laughter after I slam it in his face to take care of business.
My eyes rise from where I’m washing my hands to meet passion-dilated ones in the mirror. I’m not sure if I should be disturbed or not that my boyfriend was obviously listening to me pee outside the door, but I can’t find it in me to care as he stalks in my direction.
His body blankets mine, bending me over the counter as his tattooed arm reaches to twist the tap, cutting off the running water.
“What are you doing?” I watch as his hand presses to my stomach, the warm olive tone of his skin all the more striking against the harsh white of my shirt.
“You were taking too long.” He grinds his hard-on into the upturned curve of my ass.
I roll my eyes. “I’ve been in here for literally one minute.”
He ignores my logic and uses his free hand to push my hair to the side then drags his lips over the exposed skin, starting at the soft spot behind my ear and traveling down my neck to bite the juncture where it meets my shoulder. A moan slips past my lips as he licks away the sting.
I’m transfixed by our reflection as he continues his trail of kisses. His fingers hook under the straps of my tank and bra and slowly, teasingly lower them until they are stopped by the bend of my elbows braced on the counter.
Breathing becomes difficult under the weight of my lust as his hand trails a path from my throat, down my sternum, and disappears below the neckline of my shirt. Without the resistance of the straps, both articles of clothing fall away and my breasts are exposed, my nipples beading against the chilly air.
With a rumble in the back of his throat, Mase latches onto my neck again, this time hard enough that I know it will leave a mark.
Arms crossing at the wrists, he fills each of his large hands with the opposite breast, the pink of my nipples visible between his fingers as he pinches and twists them. My already soaked panties flood more, and the counter in front of me becomes my sole support.
“God, Kay.” I push onto my toes, oscillating my hips, each squeeze and pluck on my breasts a direct line to my clit.
“Mase.” His name falls from my mouth like a broken cry.
“I need you.” Stubble pricks along the sensitive skin of my back with his kisses.
I crane my neck around, searching, seeking, until I capture his lips with mine. My doubts when it comes to us never stemmed from the physical. Here, we excel. Nothing else can get between us here. It’s just me and him.
“Take me.” I speak against his mouth, our lips brushing with each desperate word.
Permission granted, a hand presses between my shoulder blades, bending me fully over the counter, the tips of my toes barely maintaining contact with the floor beneath them.
Deft fingers undo the button on my jeans and the hiss from the zipper echoes in the acoustics of the bathroom. Cool air hits my overheated skin as he peels my jeans over my ass and down my legs until the tops of my boots prevent them from going below mid-thigh.
In the mirror, I see his eyes flare and his Adam’s apple bob with a swallow as he takes in the sight of my propped-up ass bisected by the flimsy piece of white lace that is my thong. Thank you cheerleading conditioning and your countless squats.
With one last squeeze, his left hand releases my right breast to travel down the length of my body, my stomach contracting with a sharp inhalation at the feel of his calloused fingers. Pleasure sparks with the abrasion of the lace of my thong when he traces the outline of my pussy lips through the material.
“You’re soaked, baby.” Mase groans, his fingers pushing into my slit with my underwear.
Tingles, shivers…each sensation almost painful in its intensity.
I have no words, my brain consumed by the pleasure he is bringing to my body.
His hand cups my butt cheek, squeezing and lifting, letting it go to watch it bounce. His finger slips under the strip between my cheeks, traveling from the waistband down to where it disappears. On his trip back up, he gives a tug, pulling the front triangle tighter
