Page 85 of Freaks Of Nature
His pants are back in place before he lifts me off Ash, and I don’t think I could walk if he gave me the option, but gathering me in his arms, Mason carries me into the shower.
He doesn’t bother with the switch by the wall. Mason drops my feet to the ground while keeping one arm wrapped around my waist until he gets the water temperature right. Then he ushers me in.
Steam rises in my vision. I back up but don’t shut the glass door. The bathroom window’s foggy texture lets in just enough light from outside, and I watch him undress with growing excitement. His well-defined muscles flex under his movements, stirring the ache to touch him.
My hands come up as he joins me. With the hot spray slicking his skin, I run my palms over his chest, his broad shoulders, his back. I draw him to me.
Lowering his lips to mine, Mason sinks into my touch. His contours fuse with mine, soft curves molding to muscles of steel.
We both moan.
One of his hands tangles in my hair while his arm around the small of my back arches me against him. His heated skin sliding across mine is everything I need right now. My knees may never carry my weight again. I feel like I’m floating.
When I link my arms around his neck, Mason angles his head, parting my lips with his and sinking even deeper into my embrace.
Holding me to his chest, he kisses me like he hasn’t gotten his fill yet. Like he never wants to stop kissing me at all. He cruises the shape of my mouth with sensual care as if he’s studying me.
He drifts lower, nudging my head back to access my throat as more heat builds between us.
“You have to go to work in a few hours. Shouldn’t you be getting some sleep?”
I’m sure Ash has already passed out.
Mason straightens, but his dark, hooded gaze doesn’t waver one bit in its intensity. “Sleeping is the last thing on my mind right now.”
He reaches for Ash’s body wash, and my arms fall from his neck as he squeezes some onto his palm.
After lathering it between both hands, Mason returns his attention to my naked state in front of him. He starts washing me. Tracing the shape of my breasts, he leans into my body, skating his touch over me slowly with such care and reverence I didn’t know he could impart.
I grip his shoulders.
His lips hover over my cheek as his head leans against mine. He’s not kissing me, and yet it feels like his tender caress is an extension of his mouth traveling my skin.
And then his fingertips dip in between my thighs.
I suck in a breath when his soapy touch slides over my flesh to stroke my clit in deliberate little circles. Each newsmooth glide of his finger incites a tremble before I come apart for him once again.
The pleased hum emanating from him vibrates through my chest. “That one was just for me,” he declares with a dark edge.
Then he retracts his touch.
Gripping himself, he pumps a lazy fist over his invigorated hard-on with the remaining body wash.
“Am I going to get to watch you rub one out this time?” I muse suggestively.
“No.”
“Why?” My shoulder gives an easy shrug. “All guys do it.”
“I don’t!”
There’s a bite to his voice when he says it, but then his tone softens. “I got girls for that,” he adds.
I don’t doubt that.
Mason reclaims my mouth, and then his hands slide over me again, gripping the back of my thighs to brace me against the wall as his hard length fills me in one thrust.
Soap suds make our skin slick. He works himself into me over and over in smooth motion that grants me all the friction of his top ladder piercings while I cling to him.
