First Class Male (16 page)

Yes, she thought, running her hands over his shoulders.
I want this.

As if he could hear her, Mason rose up, kneeling between her legs, watching her with smoky eyes as he yanked off his shirt. Oh, she remembered his chest, golden brown skin and delineated muscle dusted with a swirl of dark hair, which arrowed down beneath his waistband. The thrum inside her twisted agonizingly tight at the sight of his arousal drawing the denim fabric taut. Then his hands were on her again, his mouth laving kisses down the sensitive valley between her breasts, his hands roving over her stomach. Each sensation better than the next until finally his hands skimmed over the fabric of her drawers and settled right over her—
Oh my!

Keen sensation twisted thrillingly and her body arched into his touch. With a tug he untied her drawers, drawing them over her hips, down her legs, exposing her fully to him. Really, she should feel embarrassed, but he was doing clever things with his fingers, light strokes, rhythmic taps right over that bright center of pleasure. She forgot all about being embarrassed as bright white sparks of sensation shot through her, her head rolled back, her hips rocked up, and it was too much to endure, she couldn’t take anymore, and then she felt the brush of his mouth, the tap of his tongue. But apparently he wasn’t done yet. Gently, he separated her swollen flesh with his fingers, easing one, then two fingers inside her, shocking her with more new feelings. Her inner muscles clamped around him and pulsed, and she writhed helplessly, ready to break into a thousand pieces.

“Relax,” Mason mumbled kissing the lower curve of her belly. “Let it happen.”

And it did. She came in hot, throbbing, toe-curling waves of pleasure tearing through her at the speed of light, pleasure that overwhelmed everything, spiraling outward in a breath-stealing, agonizing glory. She cried out, clutching the hard strength of his arms, needing him to hold onto, to ground her as the last sensational pulse squeezed through her, leaving her wrenched apart and whole. She collapsed, panting.

“Here, this will be more comfortable.” Mason stretched out beside her, rolling up the shirt he’d tossed aside earlier. “Lift your head.”

She obliged, blushing, as he placed the makeshift pillow beneath her. Heat rose from his half-naked body like steam. Not knowing what to say to him after she’d—-and he’d—-more heat rushed to her face. Of course, she knew the facts of life, but this was nothing like what she’d heard in quiet whispers and gossip in the orphanage’s dormitory. What would the rest of it be like, she wondered, amazed that anything could be so wonderful.

“Is that better?” Mason asked, one hand coming to rest on her stomach. His fingers were damp from her.

That made her shiver again when she should be blushing.

“Yes, thank you,” she said. When he took care of her like this, it made her feel cozy inside, it made her care about him more. Face it, you don’t just like him, she thought. No, it was more complicated than that.

“How are you doing?” Mason searched her gaze, read her face, concern marking his brow. “Are you okay?”

“Oh, I’m more than okay.” Her face was flushed from her orgasm, her eyes shining with happiness as she grinned up at him. “I feel perfect.”

“That’s good to hear.” He grinned, too. He ignored the raging need driving through him, urgent in his blood, and pushed a wild tangle of blond hair out of her eyes. “We haven’t done anything that you can’t walk away from. If this goes much farther, you won’t be able to say that. It’ll change your life forever.”

“You’re worried about my reputation.” She rolled onto her side, facing him, the fullness of her breasts swaying enticingly, pink-tipped and still damp from his mouth.

He groaned. She wasn’t making this easy for him. He was trying to do the right thing for her. “Of course I’m concerned. You have to know that I care about you.”

“I do.” Sheer honesty, those words, anchored in feeling.

She moved in, pressing a sweet kiss to the base of his throat, tempting him. He dipped his head to rest his chin on the top of her head, her hair catching on his whiskered chin. Aching, just aching. Did she have any idea how much he needed her? How deeply he craved it? Nine years had been a long, lonely stretch. For nearly a decade he’d been walling himself off from everyone, focused on his purpose. But lonely was a word that didn’t begin to describe the emptiness his life had become, or his heart and right now, for this moment, he couldn’t take it any longer. Her kisses on his chest were tantalizing, both innocent and sexual at once. His groin tightened, his blood was all but boiling.

Then he felt a tug at his waistband and he jumped. She’d already loosened one button before he could react.

“Do you know what you’re doing?” he asked, not sure if he should be stopping her or helping her.

“I have an idea,” she said coyly, and released another button.

“You are killing me, lady.” Tenderly, he ran a hand down the length of her side, skimming past her breasts, pausing at her hips.
“That’s the idea.” So sweet that smile, her mouth swollen from his kisses. Warm and sweet, she was more alluring than anything he’d ever known so he let her release the last button, held his breath when she tugged aside his drawers. His erection sprang free and she gasped. He couldn’t help smiling. Male pride shot through him because he intended to seriously pleasure her, since that’s what she clearly wanted. He watched her study his shaft, watched her pupils dilate, her breathing change, her mouth make a soft O of desire. That killed him, too.

When her fingertips touched the engorged head of him, he couldn’t take it any longer, he rolled her onto her back and planted his knees between her thighs. He shook so hard, ready to break apart, surprised his entire body hadn’t shattered from the blinding need to possess her. She was stretched out trustingly before him, stunning, waiting.

He took a moment to savor the sight of her, long lean thighs, curve of slender hips, the flat line of her stomach, the rise and fall of her full breasts. She was breathing hard, her eyes on his. He stretched out over her, sweeping his hand over one of those breasts, laving an aroused nipple on the way, before planting his elbows beside her.

“Are you sure?” He had to ask. He brushed his fingertips along the line of her cheekbone, just to touch her.

“Positive.” She kissed him with her smile. “I’ve never wanted anything more than you. Not one thing.”

“Hell, that’s just how I feel.” His confession seemed wrenched from him.

When he kissed her, he didn’t hold back. He possessed her, every incredible hard inch of him, and he didn’t break the kiss as he moved over her. She moaned at the surprisingly large jut of his erection bobbing against her stomach, dying in anticipation as it trailed downward, first grazing her inner thighs, leaving her aching for him in her most private place, where she wanted him the most. When he dragged his mouth from hers, his eyes had gone pure black again, glassy with emotion. She laid her palm against the rough texture of his jaw, gasping when she felt the intriguingly blunt head of his shaft snuggle up against her, pressing, pressing her sensitive flesh.

Oh, she thought.
Oh my God.
She gripped his shoulders, overcome by the amazing pressure of him joining with her, his impossible hardness sinking in. Her every sense, her every nerve centered there, where he eased inside her, became her very existence. He was everything, and she arched her hips, her body instinctively craving more just as he did. Oh, she wanted more of that, more of him.

“Careful,” he said tenderly, his lips against her ear. “We go slow. This is your first time. I don’t want to hurt you.”

He loved her. She could hear it plainly in his voice, feel it in the patient way he drew back to watch her. He might not be able to admit his feelings, and she knew he might never be able to say the words, but she didn’t need them. She needed him. Right now, this moment. She needed everything he had to give. Trembling from head to toe, she let him draw her knees up to his waist, his shaft stretching her apart, sinking a full inch, the pressure both unbearable pain and bliss at once.

The pain disappeared, seemed to vanish because he’d reached down to tap his fingers over that bright center of pleasure and she came, instantly in fierce, undulating waves, arching, arching up to him. Gritting his teeth, every muscle straining, he sank deep in one long, slow thrust, groaning as he came to rest deep inside, hilt deep, and drew her up in his arms. He held her as if she was his life, his very breath.

He rocked her slow and sweet in the rosy glow of sunset. Driving deep, pulling back, and plunging them together again. She savored every moment, every detail. The hard clutch of pleasure, the spiral of excitement, the slick friction of his shaft moving inside her and then she was coming again, shattering in a fast clutch of spasm after body-wrenching spasm, crying out as he held her. She lost herself in that pleasure so great, in those pulses and waves.

Tears burned her eyes, she couldn’t draw breath as Mason pinned her, thrusting fast and hard, swelling impossibly larger inside her until she felt the primal throb of him, the life spilling from him into her. His seed burst in a hot, thrilling rush against her womb. Breathless, she lay back, holding him while he finished, feeling the last pulses of his orgasm move through her. Finally, he heaved out a final breath, moaning low in his throat and collapsed on top of her, spent, folding her carefully against his chest. His tender kiss to her forehead said more than any words could.

With tears in her eyes, she wrapped her arms around his back, lifted her knees even higher, locking her feet together, just to hold him in, to hold on, to make this closeness last. It was like the sun going down on them—she knew he wasn’t going to offer marriage. This could not last. As if he felt the same way, he clung to her too for a long time. Finally, he lifted his head from her shoulder and claimed her mouth with a desperate kiss, as if his very life depended on it. She kissed him the same way, and when she felt him growing hard within her again, she rose up, starting that rhythm he’d taught her to bring them both immeasurable pleasure.

They made love again as the sun set in the mountains behind them, draining the last light from the sky, tossing them in shadow as they came together again, clinging to each other as darkness set in.

“I’d better check on our supper,” his voice rumbled against Callie’s ear, his voice deep with regret, and he pulled away, pulling out of her.

Their lovemaking was done. The late evening breezes skidded over her, and she trembled feeling terribly alone, separated from him. He stood and pulled on his drawers and denims, shoved his feet into his boots. Funny, she hadn’t been aware of him taking those off, but, then, she’d been preoccupied. She felt like a whole new woman lying there in the grass, bared to the world, wet and sated.

Satisfied, she gave a low, lazy sigh, turning her head to watch Mason’s shadow move against the charcoal sky. Gold and purple light painted the underbellies of the clouds overhead, drawing him in silhouette as he ambled over to the fire. The orange flames had died down, he added wood and gave the meat a half turn on the spit. Juice dripped down, and the flames hissed.

“Good thing the fire went down,” he said, amused. “Or our dinner would be burned to a crisp.”

“Good thing,” she agreed, sitting up, feeling a rush of wetness slide out of her. His seed. She thought about that, and an intense quiver rocked her. It felt so intimate and, well, she didn’t know just how to describe it. “I’m not fond of burned-to-a-crisp food.”

“Me, either.” He tromped away from the fire, knelt down before her. “How are you feeling? Was I too rough?”

“You were just right.” She caught his chin, stole a hot kiss, glowing with affection for him. She reached for her corset, which was in sad shape. The laces had come undone completely and she’d have to re-thread them again.

“You don’t need this for tonight,” he said, reaching for one of her breasts, cupping it, giving the swollen flesh a squeeze.

“Are you suggesting I should go topless for the rest of the evening?” She teased, reached for her drawers. “I don’t mind, but think of Indigo. It might shock him.”

“You’re right. He’s a gentleman.” Grinning, Mason glanced over his shoulder to where his horse had wandered a good distance away, grazing in the meadow, with his back turned and his rump facing them. “Maybe you can put on your dress, but don’t button it all the way.”

“Oh, you want easy access?” She laughed, wiggling into her drawers. “Look what happens when you let a man have his way. He thinks you’re easy. Guess my sister was right.”

“Maybe she is,” he teased, laughing, retrieving her dress for her. He shook it out, dropped it over her head. “It is a shame to cover you up. Guess it will be fun unwrapping you again.”

“Like I’m a present?” she challenged, laughing too, not sure if she could ever remember being this happy.

“You are definitely a gift, Callie.” He kissed her again, gentle this time, his feelings showing clearly, as if it were safer for him to do so in the dark. “Such a gift.”

“That’s the way I feel about you,” she said, letting him take her into his arms. They snuggled together as the fire snapped and crackled, casting an orange-red glow. The last dregs of sunset vanished, the sky turned dark and the stars came out one by one.