Page 48 of Freaks Of Nature

I moan against his lips. I’m not wearing a bra under the ribbed tank, and the friction of his touch is sweet agony.

My anticipation builds with every inch he sinks lower down my stomach, and I feel the slickness gathering between my thighs. My clit hums with the heightened sensation from the soaked material now covering me.

A soft chuckle weaves through his voice. “I like the easy access.”

Mason’s hand reaches the flared hem of my skirt and dips under. His fingertips rise slowly along the inside of my thigh, inching my skirt higher in the process.

He slides his fingers in at the side of my underwear, his knuckles tracing my slick seam. “Who is this for, Em?” He flicks his tongue at me, taunting. “Tell me.”

“For you,” I reply.

“Me… who?”

“Mason. For you, Mason,” I moan his name more desperately.

“That’s right.Mine!” he growls in satisfaction. “All of it.”

Then he pulls away, undoing his pants and shoving them down before taking my left leg and hiking it over his hip.

Hands at the back of my thighs, he opens me up, aligning himself, and then thrusts into me.

Oh God!Pinning me to the wall, he spears me in one go.

I grip his shoulders as he stretches me to the max, my breath caught in my throat by the sudden invasion. My legs tremble.

Mason retreats, then fills me again, just as smooth and steady as before. His left forearm braced against the wall beside my head, he rails me hard and deep with each thrust, the ladder piercings along the top side of his shaft stroking my clit on every determined drive.

He winds us up, we climb fast, panting as our bodies meet again and again. I feel the tension cresting. That tingling in my core. I’m so close already.

“I want my cum dripping out of you when you spread your legs for him,” he rasps.

I hear the rumble of Ash’s motorcycle as he rolls up outside, and realize I never heard Mason’s. Where did he park it?

We’re still in the full swing of things in the hallway when he knocks on the door.

He’s right there waiting for me to answer.

I can’t call out.

I’m so fucking close.

Oh God… I’m going to—

“Tell him you’re coming,” Mason’s rough whisper dares me.

My mouth opens as my orgasm explodes so deep in my core I think I might black out. But Mason’s hand clamps down over it to muffle me as he thrusts his hips into me faster and harder, pounding out his own release.

His breath hot and ragged at my throat where his face nestles in the crook of my neck, he spears me one last time then stills with a shudder I feel through the connection of our bodies.

“I want to see you in that skirt again.” He presses a kiss to the corner of my jaw and releases me before stepping back.

I sag against the wall, my legs weak. The last I see of him is his silhouette disappearing out of my bedroom window down the hall.

Em

Ash takes us on a 20-minute-ride to a bar outside the city, and the first thing I do is excuse myself to go to the bathroom. I have to clean up.

I answered the door, cheeks flushed and my breaths panting like I ran a marathon—and that’s exactly what I felt like—but somehow he didn’t look suspicious. He had no idea Mason and I were going at it on the other side.