Page 77 of Switching Skates

As we move to the first curve of the track, slowly gaining speed, Mason’s right hand trails higher on my leg, closer and closer to the crease of my thigh.

My breath is shallow and uneven as his touch sets me on fire. I’m practically panting, wanting more.

Tilting his head down to mine, he whispers in my ear, “Do you want me to stop?”

I look up at him; his pupils are blown, and his lips are parted. He wants this as much as I do. But I’m frozen in place, and I can’t move or make a sound, in a haze from the way he’s looking at me right now.

He leans forward and breathes me in, an animalistic sound growling through him. “I will get on my knees and beg if that’s what it takes. You’re all I can think about.”

I’msogoing to regret this.

“Remember when you saiddon’t overthink it?”

“Is that what you want? To not overthink it?” he whispers into my ear, and I nod ever so slightly. “So, do you want me to stop?”

“God, no.” The breathy words leave me a bit too fast and desperate.

He chuckles darkly. “Everyone’s going to be shouting and screaming on this roller coaster because of the turns and drops.” His hand disappears beneath my dress. Thankfully, the car is built high, and no one can see in. “But I wantyouscreaming because ofme.”

I suck in an uneven gasp as his fingers brush over the lace, finding my clit like they were programmed for it. Is he really trying to get me off on this ride? And, God, why does the thought and his touch nearly push me over the edge?

We straighten out around the bend and speed toward the first hill, my nerves starting to mix with the pleasure.

“Mason.”

He kisses my temple as my hair falls behind me from the gradual incline. “Feel the rush, baby. Don’t fight it.”

Two of his fingers slip beneath my panties from the side. My pussy is greedy for his touch, and my legs fall apart.

He leans down and runs his tongue up the length of my jaw, and a moan slips past my lips.

“You’re so fucking sexy,” he grunts and adjusts his hips.

He’s focusing on me, but all I can think about is the pulsing cock in his jeans, calling my name.

Inching my fingers under his arm and over his jeans, I slide my hand over his massive erection.

“Oh my fucking God,” he whimpers desperately, his voice soft and breathy as I squeeze him and stroke back and forth over his pants.

I gasp as a finger eases through my wetness, followed by another. He sinks them further into me, tenderly moving in and out as we climb toward the top of the giant hill.

His thumb finds my clit and somehow perfectly works me, as if he knows my body like the back of his own hand, and I’m falling apart uncontrollably.

He bites on my earlobe and growls into my ear, his voice drowning out the shouts and screams of everyone around us. “Bemygoodfuckinggirl and come for me. I want you dripping down my fingers when we plummet down this drop.”

From the combination of his touch, the rush of adrenaline, and his gravelly voice begging me in my ear, I’m seconds from diving into oblivion.

But if I’m coming, he’s coming with me. Slipping my hand beneath his jeans, I grip him over his boxers, pumping him as he moans into my ear, and I fight my orgasm.

His fingers hook inside of me, hitting all of the right spots, and, holy fuck, I’m going to explode.

The roller coaster crests the top of the hill. I’m no longer in control of my moans and whimpers; he’s controlling them with every circle and thrust.

“Fuck, Daphne, you’re going to make me come.”

He unevenly inhales helplessly, his head falling against mine. The sound of my name on his lips ruins me, and the next pump of his fingers sends me flying.

My stomach jumps into my throat as we drop, and my orgasm tears through me as we free-fall down the thirty-foot drop.