my clit before it’s lifted to repeat the process down my other leg.
Mase cups a hand under one of my knees, bending my leg and placing my foot on the outside of his to spread me open. Again he ignores where I need him most, washing down my calf and over my foot.
Finally I feel the rough texture of the loofah press against my center, Mase using his fingers to part me enough to give him direct contact with my clit, each pass both too much and not enough. I swivel my hips in search of some relief, but he clamps his free hand over one of my hipbones, holding me in place.
I’m about ready to beg or lose my mind, not sure which.
He releases the loofah, the puff floating to the surface, then two fingers plunge inside me. A keening moan escapes my mouth and my back arches with an audible suction noise as I rise away.
“Fuck, baby,” Mase moans, his breath blowing across my ear. “You’re soaked.” He scissors his fingers, setting off an orgasm so strong it has me seeing stars that have nothing to do with my concussion.
“Oh god.” My body collapses against his as he continues to work me. The things he does to me, the way he makes me feel should be illegal. Lord knows I could never tell him though. His ego is big enough; no need to inflate it more than it already is.
Once I recover from my release and he’s eased his fingers from the viselike grip my pussy has on them, I push to my knees and turn so we are face to face.
I pick up the loofah, add another dollop of body wash, and get to work washing his chest.
One would think being fresh out of the hospital, in recovery from reparative surgery, bruised, and concussed would mean sex is the last thing on my mind, but the feel of Mase’s muscular body under my hands has all that fading away.
“Careful, baby.” His eyes fall to the bruises mottling the right side of my torso. “I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”
“I’m fine.” I spread my knees to straddle his hips.
I know to Mase, and probably most other people, it’s crazy for me to be the one to protect him, but the thought of something hurting him drives me to the brink of insanity.
Stepping back from the situation, I can see that Mason could have easily taken Liam in a fight. He has a few inches and more than a dozen pounds on my ex, but in the moment, all I could think about was keeping him safe.
It’s like my body needs to reaffirm he is okay, needs to make sure he really wasn’t hurt the other night. I line up my entrance with his dick and thank the birth control pill gods as his tip slips inside easily. He was right—I’m so wet not even the water could wash it away.
“Kayla.” The use of my full name is a whispered curse, a warning I don’t heed as I continue to sink down until my still engorged clit is resting against his pubic bone. “Fuck.”
My hands go around his neck, my fingers locking together as I anchor myself to his body. His head tips back, our eyes locking, never breaking contact as I start to move.
Slowly.
Up and down.
In and out.
Mase’s hands find purchase on my hips, not squeezing like he usually would, only cupping the joint as he lets me keep our pace slow.
My eyes telegraph every thought and feeling I have.
I love you.
I need you.
You’re mine.
You’re safe.
A part of me is afraid he’s going to stop me in his own driving need to protect me, and I’m relieved when he doesn’t.
Our pace remains unhurried yet intense.
Up and down.
In and out.
My hips rock back and forth, pulling off him until only the tip remains inside me before sinking back down completely.
To the tip.
Down to the hilt.
A swivel of my hips.
The brush of his pubic bone on my clit.
A mutual groan.
Over and over, our languid pace continues.
The pressure inside my body starts to build once more, and I know I’m on the verge of coming again. The tightening of his fingers on me is the only sign he’s as close as I am. Another figure-eight swivel of my hips and we explode together. It’s not the most animalistic orgasm we’ve given each other, but it’s not any less intense.
My hips still as we ride out our highs together. Mason’s arms