Page 61 of Off Plan

I shifted to one hip without breaking the kiss and ran my hand up under his shirt. His skin was smooth and hot, and my fingertips traced what I thought were soothing patterns on his stomach, though the way his muscles flexed and jumped under my hand made me think maybe it was more arousing than anything.

Good.

I ran my fingertips under the top of his boxer briefs—I wassoright about his underwear—at the same time I licked into his mouth, and Mason groaned louder than ever. I swallowed the sound and molded the length of him through the cotton.

Mason broke the kiss and sucked in a huge gulp of air, oxygen starved. He turned toward me just a little and traced his fingers up my stomach, too, eyes wide.

“Now what?”

It was cute. I’d never been an expert guide at anything before, and I kinda liked it.

“Now…this.” Within two seconds, I’d peeled our underwear down and introduced our cocks to one another. I licked my palm, wrapped my fingers around both of us, and started jacking us together slowly.

With the first tug, Mason’s eyes rolled back in his head. With the second, he started praying to saints I was pretty sure even my mom had never heard of. Something like, “Jesus fucking Christ and all the sweet baby bunnies, fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.”

I would have given him shit for finding religion all of a sudden, except I was thinking just about the same thing, and I couldn’t help kissing his swollen lips again.

He started writhing against me—long, sinuous movements in perfect rhythm with my strokes—and I knew he was close when he reached down and grabbed my wrist, not to move me away or control the rhythm, but like he wanted to be an active part of the process. My stomach, which was already soaring and dipping like a kite on a breeze, flipped over entirely.

“Stay with me, Fenn,” he said, the way other guys might yelldon’t stopor something. “Stay with me.” And the look in his eyes as they locked on mine was…

Shit.

In that moment, there was nothing I didn’t like about Mason Bloom.

“Mason,” I breathed—just that one single sound—and I came all over both of us. Half a second later, Mason shouted my name as he came, too.

It was one second of utter bliss—powerful and life changing.

And then it was all completely over.

I hadn’t even moved my hand away before Mason stiffened and sucked in a breath, and I could almosthearthe vacuum-sucking sound of rational thought rushing into Mason’s head, replacing the lust we’d burned off.

What have I done? And why with Fenn? What the fuck was I thinking?

I wiped my hand on the blanket and turned on my back with a sigh.

“Good?” I said lightly.

Mason’s chest heaved and his gaze latched onto my mouth, but he blinked in confusion like I’d started speaking Swahili. “Huh?”

“Are. You. Good?”

“Oh. Yes,” he croaked. “I think…” He touched his fingers to his lips and frowned. “I thinkverygood?”

I smiled. “Agreed. Really good. High five. Good job, Loafers. Experiment was a success.”

I needed to stop talking. I needed a shower.

I pulled off my shirt and used it to mop at my stomach, then offered the fabric to Loafers. I pulled up my shorts, sat up with a groan, and ran my clean hand over my head to shake out the sand.

“I can’t decide if rolling off the blanket means we lose points or get bonus points,” I teased. I organized a bunch of the empty bottles in the cooler and put the lid on it. “We should coordinate showers when we get back. I’d hate to overload the system.” I pushed to my feet.

“Right.” Mason was still lying on the ground, clenching my shirt, his lower half resting on the blanket so I couldn’t shake it out. “Fenn? Are we okay?”

“Duh. Why wouldn’t we be?” I busied myself dusting sand off my ass.

“Did I sorta guilt you into—?”