Us, making love. This isn’t just fucking.
I thrust forward in a slow, heavy rhythm, my gaze never leaving hers. Desperate noises escaping me. Tight, hoarse moans.
I sound frantic to come. I feel frantic to love her, to keep her, to make this last.
To go even slower, show restraint, my thighs burning as I stay unhurried. Brooke’s legs shaking against my hips. Slower . . . good, God, fuck. I can’t. I can’t . . .
My hips begin bucking wildly, the smooth walls of her sex gripping me, tightening around me the harder I fuck.
“Brooke, baby . . .”
Her hand touches my ribs. Her other rubbing along my back. My sides. Her nails clawing at my arse.
I drop my lips to her ear and tell her how amazing she feels. How perfect she is for me. How close I am to coming, and how badly I want to fill her.
“Only you,” I whisper, and she sighs, wrapping her hands around my neck and pressing her bare chest to mine.
She sucks on my jaw, my neck, dragging her teeth along my skin and biting my flesh.
I run my hands up her legs to her hips, pinning her to the bed when she begs me to make her come, to fuck her harder.
To fuck her like I love her.
I pound into her relentlessly, swearing and moaning, telling her to come on my cock and to take it. Me. Everything. That every part of me is hers and it has been since that first day on the footpath.
“God, you owned me. Did you know?” I ask her, laughing through a growl when she’s too delirious with pleasure to answer me. Her eyes closed and her hands seeking anchor.
I palm her tits, squeezing and sucking, pinching her nipples. Biting down when she tugs ruthlessly on my hair.
“Oh, my God,” she pants as she pulls her legs higher, gasping when I reach between us and rub her clit with my thumb.
“Mason,” she moans, clawing at my skin. “Come in me. Come.”
I surge forward, grabbing her face and dropping my head to look at her.
Her pussy clenches around me, and with her lips pressing against mine she falls, gasping and swearing into my mouth.
I fuck her through her climax, my limbs trembling. She tells me she needs to feel me come, “I need it. Please,” and hearing that I break, exploding seconds after she does, a strangled cry catching in my throat.
“Brooke,” I moan, collapsing on top of her, my face rubbing against her neck where I kiss her sweet skin. “Jesus Christ. You’ve wrecked me.”
She giggles, stroking my hair. “You never said it.”
My brow furrows. Curious, I lean back, pushing her sweaty hair off her face.
“I love you.” She smiles lazily, her hands rubbing my shoulders. “I thought for sure you were going to tell me at some point during all that. In the throes of passion. At least while you were coming.”
I lower my gaze to her chin, searching my memory and reeling from the best sex of my life.
“Are you sure I didn’t say it? I feel like I was screaming it just now.”
Her lips pinch tightly together, fighting a grin. She shakes her head. “You didn’t say it.”
“Well.” I slowly kiss her mouth. “Do you know?” I ask.
“Yes.”
“I’ve known for a while now. You may have loved me in that tent, but I think I loved you before that.”
I sit back and slide my cock out of her. Cum oozes from her body, down her slit. My cum. Her thighs glisten with a mixture of our desire.
“Fucking hell,” I groan, rubbing at my mouth, staring. I can’t look away from this.
Something inside of me begins to ache. A strange, foreign need to lay claim to someone, to have a right to them, but not just someone. Brooke. Only Brooke. This sweet, beautiful thing staring up at me. Sexy as shit and unquestionably the most challenging and defiant woman I’ve ever met.
“You’re looking at me like you love me,” she whispers, smiling, her eyes fluttering as she stretches her arms above her.
“Yeah.”
Grabbing her thighs, I wrench her closer, smiling at her precious squeal. I push my hips between her legs again, leaning over her, filling her with one hard thrust.
She gasps, arching off the bed. “God, Mason.”
“Let me show you how I love you, sweet girl.”
Nodding, she grabs my face and kisses me hard and fast, soft and slow.
Just like how I take her.
BROOKE
I open my eyes as I stretch, searching the room for a clock.
I don’t remember falling asleep, and I have no idea how long I’ve been out, but I know it’s late. The curtains amplifying the darkness behind them, casting a heavy shadow over one side of the room. The other lightly illuminated by a lamp on the dresser.
I look over at Mason sleeping beside me.
He’s lying on his back, one arm tucked beneath the pillow under his head, the other relaxed across his stomach, his face turned away. My eyes linger on the lines of his body. The slope of his neck. The smooth swell of his muscles, his trim waist, and the bulge of his cock against the satin sheet.