"I'm not cold anymore." If her words came out more moan than words, that was entirely Mason's fault.
"Good," he said hoarsely. "Let's see you how like this."
His devilish fingers, chilled from the ice cubes, slid through her folds. It was too much and not enough, a raw, erotic shock that had her arching up against him. Except...she wanted to touch him, too.
Go big and own it. She peeked in the bowl, hoping for inspiration. And, hello, naughty idea. Not only had he brought ice, but he'd brought Popsicles. She'd had no idea her villa's kitchen was so well stocked. Or that Mason had such a creative imagination.
She grabbed a cherry Popsicle, which was definitely her new favorite flavor. At least her mouth wouldn't turn bright green or purple. Unless Mason had undisclosed alien sex fantasies, that wouldn't be a hot look.
"It's still my turn," he growled, still fingering her pussy.
"You bet." This was all about making him feel good after all. She eased the Popsicle into her mouth, pretending it was a certain part of Mason. Sure, the Popsicle was way too small and cold, but she worked it for all she was worth. Moving her mouth up and down the icy treat, swirling her tongue around the top. When it popped free with an audible sound, he groaned.
"You play dirty." He sounded approving.
Absolutely, and always in bed. Handing him the Popsicle, she reached for him, intending to go down on him. "Hold this and hold on. I've heard guys love this."
"Now that I've got this?" He waggled the Popsicle. "Nuh-uh. It's still my turn, sweetheart." He dropped down the bed, maneuvering his shoulders between her thighs, pushing her wide. She had just enough time to wonder what she looked like before something cold slicked over her pussy.
"Mason-"
"Shh. I'm working here." He parted her and then he ran the damned Popsicle around her clit. Oh. The shiver working up from her toes had absolutely, positively nothing to do with being cold, because she was hot all over.
* * *
MADDIE SHRIEKED SOMETHING. Mason couldn't tell what, didn't care, because her hands were pulling at his shoulders. The sounds she made were more erotic than the dirtiest words because she didn't hold back. This was his Maddie, letting him touch her.
He'd make this good for her. He'd make this fantasy come true, and then he'd find out what else she dreamed about and do that, too. Whatever she wanted, she got it.
He moved his mouth over the skin of her thigh. She tasted sweet, felt even softer, and the heat of her...the speed with which her Popsicle was melting pointed out the flaw in this plan of hers.
"Mason," she pleaded, her hips moving against his hands. More words followed his name, disjointed and throaty. He loved that he could make his smart, funny Maddie stop thinking and lose her train of thought.
Abandoning what remained of the Popsicle, he tossed it away. Maddie opened her mouth, but he didn't think she was about to criticize his lack of housekeeping skills. Just to be sure, however, he moved his mouth higher, closing the distance between him and her sweet spot. He licked her where she was cherry red, swiping his tongue up her slit. The icy cool of the Popsicle burst on his tongue, a bright hit of artificial flavor, followed by the taste of Maddie. And that taste? Absolutely exquisite.
He tipped her farther back onto the bed, cradling her hips with his hand. She sprawled on the mattress, her fingers pushing first into the sheets, and then fluttering to his shoulders. His head. Touching him in as many places as she could. Not good enough, not yet. He went back to her cherry sweet spot and covered her with his mouth.
She shrieked his name, her hands grabbing on to his head and holding on. Yeah. Just like that, sugar.
Her legs fell open and he ate his sweet treat. Licked up her cream as he found her clit and pressed with his tongue. Flicked and rubbed as he pushed the tip of two fingers inside her slick channel. She shrieked some more-when she let go, she let go, which was just one more thing he loved about her.
Love.
Wait.
He froze for a moment and the chill sweeping him had nothing to do with ice or Popsicles, because that L-word wasn't supposed to pop into his head right now. Or ever. But her hands tugged on his head, her hips bucking against his face, and now wasn't the time to ask himself which it was, love or sex, because he could feel her thighs tensing, her heels digging into his back, and she was so close. Instead of thinking, he gave her more, sliding his fingers in, rubbing the pads of his fingertips against that one particular spot that makes her clench.
"Mason." His name. A breathy sigh this time. Funny how when she came, she got quiet, just letting go and coming undone in his arms like all the fireworks were on the inside now and required all her attention. And he had her, holding her tight until she finished and he could move up, pull her into his arms. Funny, too, how just this would be enough, making her feel good. Making her happy.
Fuck.
It really might be love after all.
* * *
MASON'S JAW CLENCHED as he pulled her into his arms. She was still humming, coming down from the most amazing orgasm high ever. Part of her had an immediate date with her pillow, and the mattress had never seemed softer, better, but she had Mason wrapped around her-and he had an erection that wouldn't quit. Wasting it would be a shame.
So she rolled onto her back, tugging him over her. He let her, settling easily between her hips. She wrapped her legs around his waist and it was just like before, except now he was kissing distance away. Knowing where his mouth had been got her hot. The wet slick of her juices on his lips was one of the most erotic sights she'd ever seen and she pressed her fingertips against his mouth.
This was probably the moment when she should say something witty or memorable-or at least appreciative. Instead, she was more of a babbler and nonstop talker. She also gave directions, because there was no point in forgoing an orgasm just because her partner wasn't getting it right. But Mason was...Mason. And he wasn't like any of her other lovers. They were nice guys or-more often-bad boys, because if she was treating herself, she liked to do it right, with guys who knew how to make sure the night was fun. Mason was fun, too, but he was also something...more. If she hadn't still been quivering, her legs weak from the most incredible orgasm she'd had in months or possibly forever, she would have taken a moment to think about it.
Instead, she ran her hands up his arms. He was sweat slicked, the muscles cording in the sexiest way as he held himself up over her.
Since it was her turn-and she really, really wanted to feel him inside her sometime soon-she traced those delicious biceps with her hands. Followed with her mouth, leaning up to tongue his nipples. He groaned, a husky sound that was part curse, part her name.
"I'm right here," she said, as if there was any question of that.
Then he lowered his mouth, taking her. Their tongues tangled and all the games, the erotic refinements, didn't matter half as much as that raw connection. She tasted him. Licked him. Learning his mouth, his throat, the hard, ridged planes of his chest. His hands and mouth were equally busy, roaming over her curves, and his fingers found her pussy again. There was nothing fancy or sophisticated about this, just the exquisite heat of his touch and the need to press as much of her against as much of him as possible.
Eventually, he threw out an arm, reaching for the condoms on the bedside table. She was no help at all as he tore a packet open, because she was just waiting for him to put himself inside her. Or for her to take him. Right now, either worked for her as long as it happened now, now, now.
He dragged the tip down her slit and that was one more jolt of pleasure. His eyes were glazed, too, though, his breath coming in rough pants, and she pulled him closer so she could feel the tension and need vibrating through his big body. Whatever this was, whatever they were doing here in her bed, right now he was all hers.
He entered her slowly, inch by inch. And that felt so much better than his tongue or his fingers, filling up an empty place she hadn't realized she had. He paused when he was seated deep inside her.
"Okay?" He asked the question as if he was dead serious, and she knew she should tell him that she didn't always need sweet and gentle. It was okay for him to not be a gentleman, to be just a little rough and let go all the way. He pulled out a few glorious, friction-filled inches, before pushing back inside her.