me from base to tip. The look on his face as he grits his teeth and fuses his eyes shut is hard to look away from. Veins in his neck pop out.
I can’t wait to watch him fall apart, but his hand is distracting me. He jerks me expertly just like he did last night, and it’s hard to concentrate let alone copy his movements, but I try.
It’s probably the sloppiest handjob known to man, but he doesn’t seem to care. He keeps whispering my name as if he can’t believe I’m actually here and this is happening. The breathy way he says “Mason” will be etched into my memory.
I glance down between us at our hands wrapped around each other’s cocks. The head of his dick is red and needy-looking, so I run my thumb over his slit and lick my lips, wondering what Denver would taste like.
Before I can build up the courage to ask or drop to my knees, he sucks in a sharp breath, his body stiffens, and then his cock erupts. I’m torn between lifting my head to see his face and watching as ropes of cum release from his dick.
His grip on me has become lazy and distracted, so I take over for him, moving my hips and fucking into his hand. My orgasm builds and builds, and my balls ache and tighten.
As soon as he stops convulsing, I release him and lift my fingers to my mouth. Denver watches me as I suck the heady, salty flavor down. It’s not as bad as I’m expecting, and if it makes Denver look at me like he is now—his eyes wide, his cheeks flushed—I’d happily drink him all up.
Then he pushes forward and crushes his mouth to mine, his tongue licking into my mouth, and I realize he can taste himself. That’s all it takes for me to spill into his hand.
My release hits me full force, and it takes all my strength to hold myself up.
Denver wraps his free arm around me and holds me close.
“Definitely going to shower more if that’s what’s going to happen,” he says.
“Your water bill is going to be insane.”
“Worth it.”
Chapter Nineteen
Denver
How is this real life? No really. How?
Mason Nash is on my couch, tablet in hand, just … sitting there and reading after an entire day and night of orgasms and spooning. His legs are casually crossed at the ankles like he’s made himself at home. In my house. With me.
I close my eyes and pinch myself, but when I open up again, Mason’s still there.
I’m going to take advantage of this while I can. I throw myself on top of him. He lets out an oomph but doesn’t take his eyes off the screen.
“You better not be looking at Hollywood gossip sites again. They’re toxic.”
“They’re everywhere.” He turns the tablet toward me, and there on LA Life are photos of us during our hike yesterday.
There are several shots of us smiling. One of me scowling at Mason, and one where we’re standing a little too close to each other. The good thing about that shot is it looks like we’re having a serious conversation, instead of what it really was—Mason telling me he loves my body.
My cock twitches at the memory. I wanted to kiss him right then and there even though I was mad at him for making me exercise to the point of dying. Not being melodramatic or anything.
“The trees might not have ears, but they have cameras,” Mason says.
“How did we not see the paparazzi? Instead of being in our faces, they’re hiding in bushes now? Wannabe ninjas.”
“Maybe it was a fan, and they were taken with a cell phone.”
“Doubtful. They’re too far away and too high-quality.” I take the tablet off him and blow up one of the photos. “I have to say, this one?” I show him. He’s wearing a hat in the photo, we both are, but Mason’s breathtaking smile, all white teeth among a trimmed beard, stands out. “You look genuinely happy.”
“I was mocking you for being unfit. I was happy.”
I want to say I think it’s more than that, but I’m trying desperately to tone down those claimy feelings. It’s hard for me because I didn’t realize that hooking up with Mason wouldn’t be like hooking up with other people.
I’ve done the casual thing for nearly my whole career. I’ve dated actresses and fans, knowing things would never last in the long run. I didn’t have real feelings for