He didn’t start groping at my body. Instead, we stood there, as he played with my hair and continued running his nose and lips over my neck and ear. I slowly leaned back into him as my body relaxed under his gentle caress.
“Your hair is like playing with silk,” he whispered. “And your skin.” He ran a hand down my bare arm and slid that same hand over the butt cheek he had left exposed. “I’ve decided I’m obsessed with silk,” he added.
I started to squirm when his hand slid back up my body, circling around to the front and stopping on my stomach. “Turn around, and let me see you,” he said, stepping back from me.
I was breathing heavily, and I knew he could see it. But facing him made it more real. I would be able to see him as he looked at me.
His gaze ran down my body slowly, then back up again. There was a worshipful look on his face that made me feel cherished. Important. Protected.
Those were three things I had never felt.
I would not cry.
He stepped closer and placed his fingertips on my stomach, tracing my belly button. Then both hands were on me, as he moved them up slowly until he grazed the bottoms of my breasts. With one finger, he traced my cleavage and dipped into the crevice between my breasts. “I want these bare and in my hands,” he said, as he lifted his eyes to meet mine in a silent request.
I inhaled sharply but not from fear. I wanted that, too. The areas around my nipples were in pain, they ached so badly. “OK,” I said, knowing he wouldn’t do anything until I said he could.
He slid his arms around me and untied the halter top and the back of my suit. It fell away and drifted to the floor, and my boobs bounced free.
“Fuck, those are amazing,” he breathed, as his hands cupped them and his thumb played with my nipples. “Can I taste them?” He sounded like he was begging again.
“Yes,” I said breathily, reaching out to grab his arms in case my knees completely gave out.
Mase growled and lowered his head. Then his tongue flicked at my right breast. He made a pleased sound in his chest before he pulled an entire nipple into his mouth and sucked on it.
My legs went weak, and I cried out as pleasure rocketed through my body.
Mase picked me up before I collapsed on the floor and carried me over to the sofa, sinking down with me firmly in his lap. He kissed my lips as I panted, still reeling from his mouth on my chest.
One of his hands still kneaded my breasts, and I wanted his mouth there again. “Can I taste them again?”
I nodded, wanting to shove his head back down to my breasts and never let him up.
Mase’s warm mouth pulled the other nipple into his mouth, and I cried out again as my hands fisted in his hair. I worried that I might hurt him, but I had to hold on to something. His hands held my breasts as he kissed and even nibbled on them. I whimpered and cried out his name as I held his head against me. I wanted this to last forever.
The ache between my legs was so intense now that I had to squirm and squeeze my legs together. Something to make it stop. I needed it to stop.
“Spread your legs. I’ll make it better,” Mase said in a demanding tone that startled me.
I wasn’t sure what to do. If I spread my legs, I knew he was going to touch me there. My body was saying yes, it needed it, but my brain was telling me it would hurt. I was dirty there.
“Please, baby. Let me take care of that *. It’s so wet I can smell you, Reese. It’s driving me crazy. I’ll even kiss it if you’ll let me. Anything, baby. I’ll do anything for you. Fucking anything.” He sounded desperate.
I loved him.
I didn’t want to lose him to some woman who didn’t need to be begged.
I wanted to make him happy.
I pushed the fear back and opened my legs just enough so that his hand slipped between them. He gently pulled my legs open more, and I held my breath as his hand slid down my thigh.
I fought the panic. I tried to keep it back. This was Mase. He was good to me. I loved him.
Then a finger slid inside my bikini bottoms, and the ache vanished as the memories crashed over me. I was going to be sick.
I couldn’t do this. Oh, God, I couldn’t do this.
I shoved his hand away and jumped up and ran to the bathroom. I couldn’t get sick.
Turning on the faucet, I splashed cold water on my face several times and told myself over and over that I was OK.
Mase
I had never hated anyone as much as I hated myself at that moment. The only man I hated more was her goddamn stepfather. Afraid to touch her, I stood behind her as she splashed cold water on her face and chanted in a soft voice, “You’re OK. It’s OK. You’re OK. It’s OK.”
With every “OK,” my chest felt like it was being ripped wide open.
My head had been telling me to stop. I was pushing for too much. But I couldn’t stop touching her. She felt so fucking good. Seeing her face as I gave her pleasure was like crack. I wanted more and more of it.
I had scared her in the end, though. I was asking for too much.