Mason kicked his shoes off with his feet and tugged off his pants, the ones that had been too tight for so many hours now he’d lost count. He shrugged out of his boxers and whipped his shirt over his head.
The second he gripped his dick in his palm, he nearly came. He’d been so close for so long, it wouldn’t take much to get himself off. And he knew once wouldn’t be enough. Not after what he’d witnessed from the sweetest dainty pale frame he’d ever held.
He hadn’t kissed her. Had she noticed? He’d known he couldn’t and keep his promise to Rafe. One touch of her lips on his and he’d have gone off the deep end, lost his mind.
Instead, he’d controlled his growing lust, barely, and watched his woman as she came completely undone twice before his eyes. He hadn’t meant to do it the second time. But when he witnessed her reaction and realized she wasn’t completed, he couldn’t resist. And the added bonus—he’d been the first to make her orgasm from her G-spot. What a gift.
Mason squeezed his cock hard and breathed through the memories. When he couldn’t take it anymore, he released his tight grip and stroked himself up and down his length.
So goddamn hard and tight, it was a wonder he hadn’t needed an ambulance.
He grabbed the doorframe between the bedroom and the bath, unable to make it another step in any direction. He faced the bathroom in the dark, his eyes closed as he relived every second of his evening while stroking his dick up and down, a furious pace he couldn’t stop.
It didn’t take long. Before he could stop it, he came, squirting in long jets onto the bathroom tile. His cock jerked with every pulse. Harder than he could remember. He came with visions of Jenna’s sweet pussy in his mind. The way her mouth dropped open and she gasped for air when she reached her peak. So pure and innocent. Her expression had amazed him. Nothing about her was a fraud.
Spent, he sucked in a deep breath. He leaned hard against the wall and waited until his legs would move to reach for a towel and wipe up the floor. He used the light of the moon streaming in the window, not bothering with the switch on the wall. He knew his house well enough. It wasn’t necessary.
He leaned on the counter, brushed his teeth, and stumbled toward his bed as though drunk.
“Holy hell,” he said aloud into the silence. “What has that woman done to me?” He wiped a hand down his face and relaxed into the mattress.
He was fucked. Sure, technically he hadn’t taken his pants off, but there was no way in hell he could keep a straight face in front of her at the wedding. She’d rearranged his brain cells in one day and left them scattered. It would be a wonder if he could make complete sentences by tomorrow. If he looked her in the eye, he would never be able to hold his composure. All he would see would be her mussed hair and glazed expression as she came for him. Hell, she came at his command.
She hadn’t just come, she’d stripped for him and followed every direction he’d given her.
He groaned and turned over, trying to get comfortable.
He hadn’t done anything so vanilla for years, though he was certain she would describe the experience as anything but vanilla. For him it had been. Other than directing her verbally to do his bidding, he hadn’t used any sort of restraint or toy on her body at any point. He hadn’t swatted her skin anywhere. He’d enjoyed the redness brought on by her embarrassed flush, and that had been enough for him. For the first time in years, he hadn’t needed that extra edge to get a woman off or raise his own ardor.
“I’m so fucked,” he muttered into the pillow.
He’d been involved in BDSM for over five years. At thirty it was a way of life for him. He’d had many willing partners at the club he belonged to, some he’d even had exclusive relationships with on occasion. He’d never brought someone home. Actually, he realized, it had been a while since he’d fucked a woman.
Maybe that was the problem. Maybe he’d been so bulldozed by Jenna because he hadn’t gotten laid in some time. Yeah, keep telling yourself that.
Half the time when he was with a woman at the club, they didn’t end up having intercourse. His passion was domination. That didn’t always equate to sex. His rocks got hard when he controlled a woman, but he didn’t always fuck her in the end. Sometime he handled it himself at home later, and sometimes his dick went down by then and he let it go.
He couldn’t remember the last time he’d wanted to fuck a woman as bad as he’d wanted Jenna tonight. No, that wasn’t entirely correct. He’d wanted to make love to her.
And behind his lust, one thought niggled in the back of his mind. “She has baggage. A lot of baggage,” Rafe had said.