Chapter Twenty-Five

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

MULTIPLE ORGASMS – Well, it wouldn’t be a fantasy if the sex were bad, would it?

S awyer awoke to the sounds of Mason’s slow, steady breathing.

She never spent the night—not since Sadie, not even the chef she’d had a brief thing with, who’d come over at the end of his shifts, well after midnight, and leave at three in the morning, when she kicked him out after they were done.

But she hadn’t wanted last night to end. Though, judging by the darkness outside Mason’s bedroom window, it was still night—or early morning. God, she’d spent the night and hadn’t even had sex. Who was she?

She still felt full, but in a different way, like she could barely breathe there was so much emotion clogging her throat. It was a little disconcerting, how quickly it had rushed in. Like it had been waiting in the wings, and as soon as she’d opened the door to the possibility that this thing with Mason could be more, there was no way of doing it halfway. Even if he was leaving soon. She shoved that thought aside, sinking back against Mason’s chest. He stirred, his arm around her coming up, his hand sliding beneath her shirt, trailing a slow path between her breasts, across her stomach, over her hips, and down her thighs.

She’d only slept for a few hours at most, and it was the best sleep she’d had in a long time. Rolling over to face him, she trapped his roaming hand between her thighs. “Yes, Mason?”

Mason grinned, bashfully nuzzling his face deeper into the pillow, one eye cracking open. “Sawyer.”

Her eyes fluttered shut as he brought his forehead to rest against hers. She loved the way he said her name. There was an intimacy to it, as if it were more than just a name, and in those two syllables he’d managed to express a novel’s worth of emotion.

She slipped her hand around his waist, guiding him on top of her, sighing as he put some of his weight on her, pressing her into the mattress. She licked her lips, her tongue wetting both hers and his. She sucked in a breath. “Sorry,” she mumbled automatically, her lips brushing against his as they formed the words.

“I’m not.”

A whimper got stuck in her throat, and his attention darted down at the small sound that managed to escape. He grazed his mouth over hers, testing. “Is this what you woke me up for?”

“Yes,” she breathed, not even bothering to argue that she was fairly certain he’d woken her up. It didn’t matter. Her hand at his jaw traveled up, twirling the hair that curled above his ears before burying her fingers in his hair, her nails scraping across his scalp.

“You want this?”

Her hand stilled, meeting his gaze. They’d done this before. They’d done all of it before, but he was still asking for her permission as she was dragging him on top of her. She also knew he wasn’t just talking about sex. She meant to say yes but what came out was “Do you?” He’d rebuffed her before, and he wouldn’t be the first person to decide she wasn’t worth the effort.

Mason cupped her face, gently pushing her bangs back out of her eyes. “Yes,” he all but growled. “I think about this— you —all the time.”

“Me, too.” She expected him to pounce at that, but he stayed just out of reach, his eyes boring into hers, like he was waiting for something. What else did he need? A goddamn formal invitation?

Dear Mr. álvarez-West,

You are cordially invited to fuck me into the next century, starting now.

Please RSVP at my convenience, which is also now.

xoxo,

Sawyer

“Mason,” she warned. “If you don’t kiss me soon, I’m going to develop a complex.”

He grinned against her mouth, nibbling affectionately on her bottom lip. Her fingers in his hair tightened their grip, and he groaned. Leaning in, she longed to capture the sound in her mouth, their lips meeting in a bruising kiss. He kissed her like he was starved. As if they hadn’t spent all of last night kissing, as if last night were a half-remembered dream and that if they didn’t break this kiss, then they could stay in it forever.

The first time they had sex, she’d been bossy, impatient, telling him where to touch her and how. Now, however, she was content to move at the pace Mason set. His hands wandered slowly, gently squeezing and teasing as his teeth scraped over her bottom lip, along her jawline, her earlobe, gently sucking on her pulse point. He moved with a concentrated intensity that she had no desire to interrupt, letting him consume her. Her hands roamed the broad planes of his back, her nails scraping slightly and leaving trails of goose bumps in their wake.

Guiding him fully on top of her, he settled between her legs like a warm, weighted blanket. Outside the window, snow swirled lazily in the early dawn light, and the world was quiet save for the sound of rustling bedsheets.

His fingers danced along her side, tickling her rib cage. She arched up, trying to guide his hand where she wanted it, but their chests were pressed flush against each other, and she couldn’t bring herself to pull back from him even a fraction. She squirmed beneath him, equal parts impatient and never wanting this to stop.

His hand slid up, gently cupping her breast through her shirt, his thumb brushing across her nipple, eliciting a whimper of relief from her. “Is this what you want?” he whispered against the shell of her ear.

“Yes,” she breathed.

His mouth grazed along her neck, her collarbones, his hands pushing up her shirt to expose her chest. Her hands left his back long enough to guide her shirt over her head. She buried her hands in his dark curls as his teeth and tongue took turns nipping and soothing, working in tandem with his fingertips that circled and teased.

“What about this?” he asked, his mouth moving lower.

She tensed, her hand in his hair tightening. “No,” she rasped, surprising herself. Who was she? She never turned down oral, but right now, she wanted him on top of her, inside of her, surrounding her, filling her. Her body was practically buzzing with the need of it. “I want—” She gestured with a limp hand toward the bedside table, and she swore his gaze darkened.

He didn’t say anything, climbing back up her body and pressing her into the mattress with a kiss. He shifted his weight, pulling the drawer open. She caught the glint of foil as he palmed it, sliding the drawer shut and settling back atop her. His expression softened as he rested his forehead against hers. “You really are going to ruin me.”

Her eyes fluttered shut, letting the words wash over her. She wasn’t sure that she could, even if she wanted to. She wanted to burrow deep into his cinnamon roll soul, where it was warm and gooey and the exact opposite of her own. She wasn’t the one who would get to keep him and love him, but it felt nice for a moment to picture that there was no LA.

She knew what she should do. She should stop this now, before she fell even harder. She should play the role of the vixen, whisper something scandalous in his ear so that he fucked her hard and fast, like he wasn’t redefining everything she thought she wanted from a partner. But she didn’t do either of those things. She wanted to pretend for a little bit longer that she was that girl, the one who woke up with a doting partner in her bed and had lazy morning sex with them before starting her day.

“I can practically feel your beautiful brain whirring,” he murmured against her temple, placing a kiss there. “Talk to me.”

She smiled softly, angling her head to look him in the face, their noses bumping against each other. She traced the angles of his face with her fingertip, the broad planes of his cheekbones, his strong brow, the soft curve of his lips.

She wanted him, but not in the way she usually wanted things. However he wanted her, she wanted it. She wanted to feel wanted by him. The words tumbled out of her before they even registered mentally. “I want you to lead.”

At her words, his focus seemed to sharpen, like he hadn’t been fully awake until that moment. Her heartbeat seemed to slow and pick up all at once. He moaned her name into her ear before pulling back, rocking onto his heels. Cool air rushed in with the lack of his body heat, but the way he stared down at her had her flushing with a new warmth all her own.

His palms ran up and down her thighs slowly before coming to rest atop her knees, spreading them and wrapping them around his waist. As he drank her in, she took the moment to take in the sight of him, the strain of his erection against his boxers.

The full intensity of his attention, the raw want on his face, was making it hard to breathe. They’d been in a fight not twenty-four hours ago, and now he was looking at her like—

They weren’t talking, but his expression was saying plenty . Her preservation instinct kicked in, and she couldn’t help but lighten the mood. “Draw me like one of your French girls, Jack.”

He huffed a laugh, like she knew he would, biting down on his bottom lip, also like she knew he would. “First of all,” he growled, running a hand roughly along her inner thigh. “My name is Mason.”

A laugh burst out of her, too loud but just right, dislodging the emotion stuck in her throat and allowing her to rasp in a breath. “Second of all?” she asked.

He bent to place a kiss at the inside of her knee. “Second of all,” he said slowly, and she knew there hadn’t been a “second of all.” “I hope you’d share your door with me.”

She grinned cheekily at him as he kissed the inside of her other thigh. “I’d totally share my door with you.”

She could feel his lips curve against her skin and then part, his tongue darting out briefly before his teeth scraped along the sensitive flesh.

“And third of all—” He glanced up at her from between her thighs, her breath hitching at the intensity in his gaze, his pupils so blown out, his eyes were nearly all black. “If you throw Friendshipulent into the ocean at the end, I’m going to be so fucking pissed.”

Her laugh dissolved into a moan as he lowered himself on top of her, the feel of his bare chest against hers too fucking good. She guided him closer, higher, all the while trying to work herself lower, to notch their hips against each other.

“Patience,” he grumbled. That one word, the gruff, low timbre of it, made her still. The ache between her legs grew, seeming to spread throughout her body, thrumming beneath her skin like a second pulse.

He ran his thumb over her bottom lip before kissing her deeply once more. She’d been so impatient for him to kiss her before, and she still felt just as needy. Each swipe of his tongue and nip of his teeth, the way her body reacted to it felt like the thrill of a first time. She had a feeling he was having a similar revelation, his hands slowly roaming, fingers gently splaying in her hair, curling around the hinge of her jaw, the shell of her ear, kissing her all the while, as if determined to make up for all the time they’d wasted not kissing.

She broke the kiss, needing to catch her breath, panting like they’d run a marathon and he’d barely even touched her. She full-body shuddered as she filled her lungs, dizzy with the high of him. His mouth traveled south slowly, so fucking slowly. Of course he was going to take his time. It shouldn’t surprise her in the slightest that this was his style, the exact opposite of hers, though she didn’t mind it. Her back arched as his teeth scraped across the underside of her breast, the promise of his mouth on her sending a flash of heat through her core as if he had actually touched her. How was he doing that?

“Mason,” she mumbled. She wasn’t sure when she’d started shaking, but if he didn’t stop teasing her and start following through on the promises his tongue and teeth and fingers were making, she was going to lose her mind.

He hummed against her rib cage, seemingly oblivious to her unraveling. “Yes?” he asked innocently.

Before she could answer, one of his hands slid between her legs, one fingertip teasing her. Her hips bucked up, begging for more.

A sound akin to a sob worked its way past her lips, along with his name and please and fuck and other nonsense.

She could feel him grinning as he brushed his lips over her navel, his finger still teasing around where she wanted it. His hand disappeared as he settled between her legs, wrapping his arms around them, palms flat on her thighs to push them open wider. She was only too happy to comply, her head falling back against the pillows at the first flick of his tongue.

He moaned like he was the one getting oral, his lips vibrating against her clit as he sucked. His hands pressed down on her thighs, keeping her spread wide for him even as she fought to squeeze them shut against the rising tide of pleasure inside her. She didn’t want it to ever stop, couldn’t believe she was about to hurtle over the edge from the barest suction, the teasing flick of his tongue so at odds with the bruising grip of his hands. He’d gone down on her before, but he’d never done this .

“Mason, I’m—” she rasped on a sharp inhale.

He groaned against her, pulling her impossibly closer, and her hands twisted in his hair, holding him there, her body curling in on itself, no longer able to differentiate each touch, her body one giant explosion of sensation. She screamed. She actually fucking screamed. She fell back onto the bed as his tongue laved over her, working her down as tremors continued to shake her. She usually felt limp after an orgasm, but whatever he’d just done to her left every nerve in her body feeling like a live wire.

She grasped at his hair, guiding him up, needing him back on top of her. He obliged, but slowly, ignorant to her desperate tugs. Giving up, accepting that he was only going to go at the pace he wanted and make her fucking wait for it, she let her hands fall limp at her sides. Something stuck to her palm, and in her haze of bliss and seemingly unending need for him, she recognized it as the condom he’d grabbed earlier. She all but threw it at him in her impatience.

His laugh coasted across her peaked nipple, and she arched her back, needing more.

“I don’t think I’ve ever had a woman literally throw a condom at me before.”

“Please,” she begged, grabbing the foil with her numb fingers and pressing it into his chest. She’d put it on him herself, but that required more focus than she had right now.

Taking the square foil from her, he placed it between his lips as he eased his boxers down and off.

Her mouth watered as his erection sprang free, and she slid lower on the bed, aligning her hips with his. She watched Mason greedily, his eyes fluttering shut as she rubbed herself along the length of him. She could practically see Mason fraying at the edges, his patience and careful control coming undone. His eyes were blown out as he grabbed her hip, pressing her back into the mattress.

“Please,” she said again.

He deftly ripped the foil open. “I think begging Sawyer might be my favorite,” he said gruffly as he rolled the condom on.

She grinned at the ceiling. “I think Mason in charge might be my new favorite.”

“What was your old favorite?” he asked with the sexy quirk of a singular eyebrow.

She couldn’t think straight. She wanted him too badly to focus on making words when he was sitting between her legs looking like a fucking Adonis.

He dragged his tip up the core of her, parting her. “Sawyer?”

She nearly choked. “I don’t know,” she answered distractedly. “All of them.”

The cocky expression on his face softened as he came to hover over her, taking her face in his hand. With his other hand, he reached between them, teasing her, the tip of his finger dipping in slightly before starting over. Running her hands over his chest and back, she could feel his muscles cording with restraint, a thrill shooting through her that he was as keyed up as she was. As if they hadn’t done this before. But that time, it hadn’t meant anything, and this time—if she thought too hard about what was written so clearly on Mason’s face, the panic would set in, so she shoved it away.

Her hands traveled south, grabbing a handful of his wonderful ass, guiding his hips forward. His eyes fluttered shut, a crease forming between his brows as she guided him inside of her. A choked noise escaped him, his breath coasting across her collarbones as he dropped his face into the crook of her shoulder. She stilled beneath him, giving him a moment even though she longed to bury him inside her.

His mouth found hers, and she smiled. When he pushed fully into her, she broke the kiss, her jaw falling open as he filled and stretched her. Ugh, he was going to make her enjoy missionary, wasn’t he?

She rolled her hips against his, moaning at the press of his skin against the most sensitive parts of her. His hand at her hip kept her in place as they found their rhythm, and she was so lost in him, so full of him, that she could already feel her live-wire nerves sparking. She shuddered beneath him, bucking against the hand gripping her. With a grunt, he pulled her with him as he sank onto the balls of his feet, before sliding back into her with a renewed sense of urgency. Her hands fisted the sheets, her back arching as he held her at the exact right angle, their hips coming together and apart at a pace that was both too fast and too slow.

Mason in charge was absolutely her new favorite thing.

He grinned, and she realized she’d said that aloud. His arm slipped around her waist, guiding her up so she was sitting on his lap. She wrapped her arms around his neck automatically, Mason never breaking his perfect rhythm.

“I lied earlier,” he grunted.

She watched him as he watched them coming together and apart, over and over. “Oh yeah?” she prompted.

“Watching you come is my favorite.” He brought one hand between them, his thumb pressing down on her clit.

Oh.

Fuck.

A tremor raced down her spine, and Mason buried a hand in her hair as her head started to fall back, holding her gaze. Her mouth fell open on a silent gasp as her orgasm seized her. Her insides simultaneously felt like molten lava and smoke, a tidal wave of pleasure crashing through her, coursing through her limbs to the rhythm of Mason’s hips. Pressing their foreheads together, he ground more forcefully into her, their hips picking up a blinding speed as he raced to follow her over the edge. Burying himself inside her, his teeth scraped over her shoulder as he came with a grunt.

“Fuck,” she breathed into his hair. Scraping her nails across his scalp, she waited for him to move first, not wanting to ruin the moment.

Every orgasm she’d had before felt like the discount store brand and she’d just experienced the real thing for the first time. It wasn’t that she hadn’t had good orgasms before. Hell, she’d had them with him before, but this was different. The voice at the back of her mind that she’d silenced before was back now. It felt different this time because they weren’t just fucking. That was… making love .

The realization raced through her with a physical shudder, and suddenly she didn’t care about ruining the moment, because somehow, in their weird, twisted mission, he was ruining her . Easing off him, she flopped gracelessly against the mattress, too stunned to do anything else. She couldn’t think about this while he was still inside her.

Oblivious to her mental spiral, he sank into the mattress next to her, also staring up at the ceiling.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. Rule #1: No feelings. She’d put that into place for him , not her. And yes, she knew she had feelings, but she hadn’t realized how big they were until now, until the thought of him leaving for LA made her chest ache. She squeezed her eyes shut, a tear leaking out unbidden. She buried her face into the pillow to hide it.

Mason placed a kiss to her shoulder. “What are you thinking about right now?”

“The Killers,” she mumbled into pillow.

A surprised laugh bubbled out of Mason. “What?”

“It started out with a one-night stand, how did it end up like this?” she half sang, in her best impersonation of “Mr. Brightside.”

The bed shook with Mason’s laughter, and she was grateful he’d interpreted that as a joke and not the existential crisis that it was.

“I love your mind,” he murmured, placing a kiss to her temple before easing out of bed to dispose of the condom.

The only thing that scared Sawyer more than catching feelings was getting a UTI, so she forced herself out of bed and followed Mason into the bathroom. He ran a washcloth under warm water for her and planted an all-too-sweet kiss to her forehead before leaving her alone to pee. Meeting her own hollow gaze in the mirror, she took a deep, shaky breath.

It was going to be fine. She was going to be fine. She always knew she’d have to let him go eventually. For now, she wanted to be selfish. She hadn’t felt this way in a long time, and she wanted to snuggle down deeper into it. She wanted to spend their remaining time together fogging up car windows and dragging their hands through the condensation, pointedly ignoring that they were heading straight for the ship-sinking iceberg that was her doing something as dumb as catching big feelings for someone moving halfway across the country.