“I see that smile,” he said teasingly, as he squeezed my bottom in his hands and then groaned. “Fuck . . . that’s nice,” he said in my ear. “Either I carry you over to that sofa and continue to hold the finest ass in the world in my hands while I kiss you, or I let you go so you can make those waffles. Your choice. I want to do what you feel comfortable with.”
This man and his words made me feel like goo inside. All melty and mushy. Who needs breakfast, anyway? “The sofa,” I whispered, and he let out a pleased growl as he picked me up off the floor. I wrapped my legs around his waist, and he kept his hands on my bottom. In three long strides, we were sinking down onto the sofa. I felt the stiffness under my bottom, and he stilled.
I would not panic. This was Mase. This was Mase.
I kept my eyes locked on his handsome face and watched in fascination as his eyes flickered with something so sexy and needy that it made my center ache.
“You can pull your legs out and hold yourself up over my lap, if feeling what you do to me makes you nervous.” His voice was tight, as if he was hurting somehow.
I moved so that my legs were folded on each side of his and I was straddling him. Just like last night. If I sank back down, I would feel his erection against me. But there was a tingling ache there that hadn’t been there before. The idea of putting any pressure on it excited me.
Mase’s hands flexed on my bottom, and he breathed out heavily through his nose as we kept our gazes firmly locked on each other. Slowly, I let myself sink down onto his lap. The hard ridge of his penis fit right along the slit between my legs, and I gasped loudly when a spark that felt so good it was almost painful shot up my body from the contact between my legs.
Mase swallowed so hard I could hear him. His breathing was heavier now, and his hands had tightened their hold on my backside. “You OK?” he asked in a voice that sounded like he was in pain.
“Am I hurting you?” I asked, horrified. I hadn’t even thought about how this might feel to him. I started to get up, and his hands immediately moved to my thighs as he held me down.
“No. No. Don’t. This is . . . fuck, baby. I don’t have words for what this is,” he said, then let out a hard laugh as he laid his head back against the sofa and stared at the ceiling. “I need another minute.”
His hands squeezed my thighs as he sat there like that. I admired the thickness of his throat. It even looked muscular. Did necks have muscles?
Feeling brave, I leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his neck. His hands flexed on my thighs, but that was the only move he made. So I kissed him again and inhaled his scent. He reminded me of leather and the outdoors. My body must have liked the two smells, because I had to press down to get some relief from the pulsing ache between my legs.
“Baby,” he said softly.
“Yeah?” I asked, taking a small little taste of his skin with the tip of my tongue.
“Fuck,” he groaned, and then I was moving away from him. His hands were on my waist, and he was placing me on the sofa as he got up and moved away as fast as he could.
I had been so lost in him I hadn’t realized what was going on until I saw him stop and put his hands on his knees. I watched him take several deep breaths before he stood back up. I was afraid to ask him anything. I waited for him to say something first.
It seemed like forever before he finally turned around and looked at me. I had pulled my knees up in front of me and wrapped my arms around them. Something was wrong. I was waiting to hear him tell me what that was, exactly.
“I’m sorry. I . . . you’re . . .” He stopped and laughed at himself, then shook his head in frustration. “I want you naked, Reese. I want my hands and mouth all over your sweet little body. I want to bend you over and kiss the freckle I know is right under your left butt cheek, the one I saw the first time I met you. I was greeted with your perfect ass bent over on display, and I’ve dreamed about that ass ever since. But more than that, I want you to always feel safe with me. I want to take it easy and slow with you, so I never have to see that haunted look in your eyes or the terror in your expression again. So we may have more moments when you press that”—he closed his eyes and breathed hard through his nose—“when you press against me and touch me in ways that drive me so crazy I’m afraid I will snap and touch you where you’re not ready yet.”
Hearing him tell me that he wanted to kiss me and touch me naked had my heart rate up again. It produced a mixture of fear and excitement. The sensation between my legs was still there. There was a needy ache that reminded me of a time when I was much younger and a guy I’d had a crush on at school cornered me and touched me, calling me beautiful.
After he’d ignored me and let his girlfriend call me horrible names the next day, that ache had never returned. Then other things happened that made any excitement in that part of my body die. Just remembering the past doused the feelings left behind from being in Mase’s arms.