Page 64 of Swept Away
In perfect sync with me, he brings his mouth to mine and breathes hotly over my lips while stroking my pussy, then slides his tongue into my mouth.
“Mmm…” he murmurs, stroking me slowly while rolling his lips with mine. “Fuck, woman,” he says, hoarse against my mouth. “I want to fuck you so badly,” he says before claiming my mouth again and kissing me while finger fucking me, our favorite pastime these days.
Legs open, I can’t get enough of the heat he puts in my body.
I never thought we’d get to sex so fast this evening.
He strokes me firmly, his middle finger moving through a pool of wetness, our mouths catching fire.
Before long, moans creep up my chest, and my pleasure scales up.
I don’t know how much longer we can keep doing it like that, but his free hand slides to my face. He cups my cheek while thrusting his finger a little faster.
My center throbs, my moans getting louder.
Mason curses under his breath, his words followed by faint laughter. We keep doing it, lips burning, pussy clenching, his breath hotter than the sun.
Tension soars through me, and my arm locks around his muscular neck, clueing him in on how close I am and giving him the green light to ravage me.
Crying moans rip through the air, making the man in the driving seat slow down the car and look at me as I indulge in a perfect orgasm. Eyes heavy, chest heaving, sweat making my dress damp against my skin.
A sweet aroma of sex and perfume drifts through the air while my thighs squeeze Carter’s hand.
His strokes become slower and more gentle before he takes his hand away and lets out a long sigh.
“I could blast my load right now,” he says, slowly moving in his seat, reclaiming his original position, and trying not to mess with the tension lodged in his groin.
Laughing, I fall back and meet Mason’s eyes in the rearview mirror.
They brim with a smile and the promise of a long night.
15
GEMMA
We eatat a restaurant and enter the nightclub at around nine.
At a glance, we look like a normal couple–Mason and I–having a good time with our friend, Carter.
After that little escapade in the car, Carter had to go to the restaurant restroom first before coming to our table.
I could only imagine what had happened there.
He looked fresh and in control, his eyes still glinting with hunger.
Mason didn’t say a thing while we were alone.
He only moved his gaze over my dress before ordering drinks for all of us.
I run my fingers through my hair several times as we walk toward the club, afraid the moisture in the air makes it look unkept, but he assures me everything is all right.
His arm is coiled around my waist as we walk into the venue, with Carter swaggering by our side.
We claim our seats in a booth and order drinks.
Wine for me, water for Carter––he’s the designated driver when we return––and hard liquor for Mason.
He doesn’t touch his drink, moving his eyes around the room. The place is packed with loud people.
