Page 108 of House of Payne
Mason is everything, everywhere, all at once, and it still isn’t enough.
I need more.
He uses one hand to keep my arms over my head, and the other to trace a path down to my center, pausing to glance down. “You’re already wet for me. Good.”
I stare at him and hope he can’t hear how loudly my heart is beating. “Why is that good?”
“Because now you know that Noah can never make you feel the way I can,” Mason whispers into my ear, causing my skin to erupt into goosebumps. “Now that you’ve seen him again, you know.”
I open my mouth to protest, but Mason presses a finger to my lips.
He’s right.
Without warning, he thrusts into me, and I wrap my legs around him. He growls and thrusts deeper, so that I’m pressed between him and the headboard. I listen to his heavy breathing and the sound of our bodies moving together, and I’ve never heard anything sexier in my life.
Mason’s movements are precise but controlled.
Each thrust is designed to punish, to make a point, and I’m all too eager to learn.
I meet each flex with one of my own until he releases my hands.
I begin clawing at his back, and he sinks his teeth into my neck.
Suddenly, his movements become frenzied. My hands fall on either side of me, and I grip the sheets, sure that my chest is going to burst at any minute.
When I throw my head back and hiss, he makes a noise between a growl and a roar, and I explode. My body is still shaking, and I still see stars in the field of my vision when Mason flips me onto my stomach and pins my arms behind me.
He slaps my ass, hard, and it sends waves of shock and pleasure coursing through me.
I twist my head to look at him, but he pushes my head forward. “You’re mine, London.”
“Say it,” Mason urges in a strange voice. “I want to hear you fucking admit it.”
“I am,” I reply breathlessly.
“You’re what?” Mason eases out and slams back into me hard enough to elicit a gasp. “Say the fucking words, London.”
I lift my head and look at him over my shoulder, and something about the look of primal need and hunger on his face stirs something within me. “I’m yours.”
Mason grips the back of my neck and pumps harder. “No one can make you feel this good.”
Tears prick my eyes, and I nod. “Yes.”
Mason pushes my head forward again, and I let him.
I know he needs to take charge, and I don’t mind.
Knowing how much he wants me only fuels the fire between us.
Another wave of pleasure washes over me, and I cry out Mason’s name. I shake and writhe as Mason gives a few more thrusts and collapses against me. Slowly, he eases out of me and lowers himself onto the bed. I bury my face into the pillow and try to ease my breathing.
My heart is in my throat as I lift my head and glance over at him. He’s looking right at me.
A storm is brewing in his eyes, and it makes me reach out and touch his face.
Mason freezes, and his expression is blank as I trace his face. Before I can finish, he leans away and stands up. He turns his back on me, and his demeanor is like ice as he pulls his clothes on. His fingers—the same ones that just brought me to the edge of ecstasy— move quickly and deftly.
How can be so infuriatingly calm after what just happened?
