Untouched: 2 (Rough Boys) (14 page)

“Ohh Mason, please!”

He slapped her ass cheek with his other bare hand. “You naughty girl, you aren’t allowed to beg.” He removed his finger and replaced it with his tongue. Her pussy clenched hard, pleading in its own way. If she didn’t find release soon, she’d burn up, be reduced to a pile of ash.

Her legs collapsed. He lifted her easily and bore her off to the bed. He carefully eased her down, positioning her since she was bound helplessly. She lay on her belly with her face turned to the side. He drew her onto her knees and then wedged a pillow under her belly.

“I’m going to make you come in so many ways, Eva. Is that what you want?”

“Mmm-hmm.” From the corner of her eye, she saw him on his knees, nude, behind her. His roped muscles sent a tingle through her. His power thrilled her more than anything. She’d give up control to him again and again. She’d never felt safer or more loved than in his arms.

His weight on the bed shifted and then she heard the familiar noise of the drawer opening. The rustle of a condom wrapper reached her.

Senses snapping, she waited, quivering for his touch. Her ass was exposed to him and she couldn’t stop replaying the moments when he’d licked her opening.

“Fuck, you’re wet. I can see you glistening.” His groan washed over her.

She twisted her face into the covers, forcing herself to remain silent. Waiting torturously for him to touch her, to ease in.

When he finally slipped a finger between her thighs, she cried out. The knot in her belly tightened until she thought she’d burst. A single finger against her clit would send her over the edge.

He traversed her folds expertly, smoothing her outer labia, then inner. When he drove two fingers deep into her channel, she screamed in ecstasy.

“That’s it, love. Let me know how good it feels.” He withdrew his fingers with excruciating slowness, and then speared her again.

“Yes!”

“Fuck my fingers, baby. Get them all wet. And then I’m going to ease them into your ass.”

Her belly hollowed out at his words. She’d never experienced anal play before. Yet she trusted him. He’d never hurt her.

She rocked against him using her stomach and thigh muscles. He curled his fingers against her G-spot, stroking the bundle of nerves, pressing, dipping deeper…

In a blinding flash, she came. Her body clamped down on his fingers. Waves of sensation struck her hard, stealing her breath and all her senses. She only felt. He continued to plunge into her, extending her pleasure until she found herself starved for oxygen and gasping for air.

Before she could gain her wits, he thrust his cock into her still-pulsating pussy. She splintered again. He held perfectly still as she came around him, soaking him with her juices.

“Yeah, baby. Come on me. That’s two.”

Slowly he pulled out, letting her feel every inch of his veined shaft. He wrapped his fingers around hers where they were bound on her lower back. The tender touch brought tears to her eyes. Her heart welled up with emotion and overflowed. In that instant, she knew she’d fallen for more than his muscular body and his amazing abilities in the bedroom.

She loved Mason Dorsey, the man.

He began to move rhythmically, robbing her of all thought. Her world narrowed to a pinprick that included only him and the sensations he heaped upon her. Her nipples rubbed against the covers, raising her pleasure.

When she thought she couldn’t reach bigger heights, he probed her secret opening with his wet finger.

Bucking backward, she silently begged him for more.

“God, that’s beautiful. Arch for me.”

She did and he growled his approval. In tandem, he worked his cock and finger into her body. When she was sufficiently ready, he added a second finger. Stretching her. Filling her.

She exploded, but this release was like nothing she’d ever known before. Her whole body tensed and in one big
whoosh
, she came. Her pussy clenched and released around him as her anus tightened around his fingers. A double orgasm rocked her.

At that moment, he stiffened, drove deeper and poured out his hot seed. She felt its warmth and wished they didn’t have the barrier of the condom. She wanted that connection—the feeling of his flesh against hers, united.

With jerky movements, he worked in and out of her until the last aftershocks ebbed away. Then he blanketed her with his body, holding her close. She wriggled her hands and he gave a quiet laugh against her back.

“You’ve been a very good girl. I’ll untie you.” He slipped her panties off her wrists and then pulled out.

She rolled onto her side, her breathing still harsh. As it slowed, he went into the bathroom. The water ran in the sink and then he returned. When he curled up behind her, she gave a happy shiver.

He pressed kisses to the column of her throat and she detected the mint of his mouthwash. “Eva, you were fantastic. Was that your first anal orgasm?”

She flushed to the roots of her hair but nodded.

“God, I’m glad you gave that to me.” His heated whisper kissed her shoulder.

“I’d give you so much more,” she murmured back.

He jerked. For a minute she fought her emotions. She wanted to tell him everything in her heart, spill the story of her husband’s embezzlement and how she’d been trying to put it to rights. Tell him how she ached for him to really know her son. And how deeply she’d fallen for him.

But she couldn’t put herself out there like that. She relied on the walls she’d erected around herself. She needed them to remain strong and get through the tougher parts of her life. Without the walls, she’d crumple and there would be no one to catch her.

Would there?

Mason lashed her to him with an arm around her waist. Her ass was cradled by his hips and his softening cock. Warmth spread through her and she relaxed. The rise and fall of his chest against her back soothed her. For long minutes, they remained this way.

Outside, the sunlight flickered through the clouds. The shadow and light played cat and mouse on the walls of the bedroom. The rich green and blue hues undulated, making it seem they were in an underwater universe.

Wherever she was, she didn’t care. As long as Mason was with her. What if he did sell Dorsey Forestry and moved back to the West? Losing him now would feel like a death. In a short time, he’d become her world.

She covered his hand with hers, stroking his roughened knuckles and the coarse hairs there. Christmas was almost here. What would he do to celebrate the holiday? Could she bring herself to invite him over for a meal, knowing he’d see the dilapidated porch and the cracked tiles in the entryway? Could she feed him the venison she’d poached from his land and lied to him about?

And how would he interact with her son? She was a package deal—buy one get a preschooler free.

She swallowed back the urge to blurt out the invitation. No, this was one thing—lying in bed together and mind-blowing orgasms. She didn’t know if she should offer to share her universe with him, for fear of rejection.

Besides, he didn’t know her truest, deepest self. She had to conceal her lies from him until she was able to reconcile the debt. Then she hoped to tell him everything.
If he’s around that long.

Using a hand on her hip, he rolled her onto her back. Leaning over her on his elbows, he gazed into her eyes. The depths of his sparkled with affection—or something more?

He smoothed her tumbled hair off her brow and leaned in to press a kiss between her eyes, on each lid and then her lips. The brushing of their mouths was slow and gentle but more filled with passion than she’d ever known, with him or anyone else.

Salty tears clogged her throat and lay on her tongue.
Hold it together, Eva. Give it more time before you open your mouth…and possibly lose it all.

He pulled back and grinned at her. The knee-melting, crooked grin carved a bracket around his mouth. His dark hair dipped into one blazing eye. “I want you again, woman. I can’t seem to drag myself away from you. But we have work to do.”

He slapped her playfully on the hip and then rolled off. She watched him stride naked to the bathroom, wishing she were braver.

Mason tossed the remnants of his cold coffee into the sink and set the mug down, filling it with water. He leaned the heels of his hands on the countertop and stared out the kitchen window at the back field. The wetlands wrapped around the house on three sides, but from here he had a view of only the woods.

Snow lay as thick as marshmallow creme on the branches, making them droop.

Christmas Eve snow. But he had no one to share it with.

His chest burned for Eva. In the five hours since he’d awakened, he’d yearned for her. He’d called the only phone number he had for her five times, six times, listened to it ring ten times before hanging up. Her number was out of service, and the one in the old phone book—the listing under Bill Frank, which infuriated Mason to the tips of his fingers—was also disconnected.

Didn’t she have a phone?

There’s only one way to find out.
He battled the need to hop in his truck and go to her house. Just drop in. How would she react? His gut told him she might not welcome him but what did he have to lose? He was on the edge of a precipice. One shift to the right and he was on solid ground, with her safely in his life. A sway to the left and he was plummeting, his stomach and his heart ripped out.

Doesn’t she take a chance in bed with me? Give her all?

Was it time to give his?

He scrubbed his hands over his face and raked his fingers through his hair. He hadn’t shaved in two days and his shirt was dirty. Would it matter?

Turning from the window and the landscape that looked much more tranquil than he felt, he stomped through the house to his bedroom. He paused in the doorway, prepared to be stricken by her scent. Vanilla and sweet arousal seemed to hang in the air here. He kept the door shut so it wasn’t released. Falling into bed at night with her smells surrounding him did more to calm him than he’d even admitted to himself.

Until now.

He needed her.

“I’m going,” he said aloud to the space where he’d lain with her so many times, loved her so often.

He pinched the cloth of his t-shirt between his shoulder blades and yanked it over his head. Then he found one on the chair in the corner, sniffed it to see if it was clean, and pulled it on.

Satisfied, he went out and closed the door behind him, trapping her scents. He located a coat and his truck keys. At the door, he realized he was missing something very important. It was Christmas Eve and he had no gift for her or for her son.

Pain sank deep into his soul. He couldn’t go over there without something. Anything. Why hadn’t he thought to get her a gift? Or Brady? What kind of selfish bastard was he—sleeping with a woman and expecting her to fall in love with him when he hadn’t had the forethought to buy her something for Christmas?

He threw a glance at the clock. It was too late to shop for anything. In this Podunk town, the businesses were closed for the day. He could swing by the gas station, but he couldn’t very well show up with a case of soda and a candy bar.

“Fuck.” He scanned the room, hoping for inspiration, when suddenly he spotted it. The fruit basket sent by his old employer in Seattle.
Happy Holidays. Hope to celebrate it with you next year
,
the card read.

He ripped it off and tossed it onto the side table. Then, scooping up the basket, he headed out the door to the Frank residence.

On the way, he had a fit of terror. Would she send him away? Rage at him? He didn’t know if he could live through that. The sun would blacken in his sky if she were ever angry with him.

He threw a worried glance at the fruit basket on the passenger seat. Goddamn it, he wished in its place set a stack of beautifully wrapped presents—toy trucks for Brady and a luxuriously soft red cashmere sweater for Eva.

Or a gleaming diamond.

Instead, he had a fucking basket of apples and oranges. Maybe there was a mango in there, but still…

He slowed as he approached a wide spot on the dirt road. He could turn around. Then what? Spend Christmas Eve alone, as well as Christmas Day. No, he was going, and hell with the consequences.

By the time he turned down the Y leading to her house, he was in a sweat. He located her house by memory. The last time he’d been down this road he’d been a teenager, with Whit at his side and a couple of giggling girls in the backseat. Bill Frank had grown up here and his parents must have left him the house after they passed away.

Mason pulled into the short drive and cut the engine. Through the windshield he studied the place. An acre of yard with a few gnarled apple trees and a scrubby pine stood in the front. From what he could see of the back, there wasn’t much space for a boy to play. Eva’s car wasn’t parked in the driveway, but it might be inside the small one-stall garage with the sagging roof.

Fuck, she had a sagging roof. And her porch posts leaned precariously, appearing on the verge of collapse. The front steps were chipped and hanging low, in mirror image of the roof.