“Come out with me tonight. I feel the need to paint the town red, well pink, since even the bars close at midnight around here.” Magenta sounded so put out about that fact, I couldn’t help but laugh at her while I stirred peanut butter in the double boiler.

“I can’t.” Not that I would if I could, since going out to bars wasn’t really my scene. Usually I got picked up by all the scumbags, or ignored in favor of my much hotter girlfriends.

“Why the hell not? I need a wing woman, and the only other women I know in this town are married or old as dirt.”

I laughed at that too, because, well it was so true it was sad. “Yeah, welcome to my life. But you caught me in the middle of trying out a peanut butter ganache for a new cupcake recipe.”

Magenta’s response was to snore loudly into the phone. “Sorry, what did you say?”

I rolled my eyes even though she couldn’t see me, because the girl was nuts. “You heard me, damn you.” She laughed loudly and too long to be polite. “Besides if I was your first choice, you would have given me more notice.”

She laughed again. “Nice try, Trish but you know I don’t really do the whole planning thing. Appointments at the shop are the only advance notice I believe in, but right now I’m bored. And I want to drink.”

That, I not only understood, but I sympathized with, because it was hard to find time for friends. And when I did have time, I didn’t have anyone to indulge with, so I usually ended up with a bottle of wine and my Netflix queue. “You can come over here and drink while I test my new recipes.”

“Is there someone there I might be able to take home for a few hours of breaking the bed? Because that’s what I’m looking for tonight.”

“Sorry, no men over here, but I’m sure you could find someone to hang with once you get to Zeke’s.” That’s where most of the young people in town went to have a good time late into the night. “And he’s open later than twelve.”

“And risk running into my brother? I don’t think so.” I could hear her exasperation down the line like a real tangible thing. “Come on, Trish. Please.”

“What time are you heading out?” The doorbell rang just as I set the bowl aside to cool to room temperature, drawing a frown from me because hardly anyone stopped by without calling or texting.

“As soon as you say yes. Don’t make me come over there.”

That pulled a laugh from me just as I opened the door. “Mason. What are you doing here?”

He flashed that seductive grin that made his lips look so kissable I had to look away. “We really need to work on your greeting, Cupcake.”

“Ugh, if my brother’s there I know who’s gonna be breaking your bed tonight.” Magenta’s voice was filled with such disgust I couldn’t help but laugh out loud.

“No one’s gonna be breaking my bed tonight, thank you very much.”

“Lie to yourself, Cupcake, but don’t lie to me. Have a good night and don’t forget the birth control.”

“That advice is more for you than me. And don’t you start calling me that. Have fun tonight.” The call ended and my screen went black, allowing me to turn my attention to the other sibling. “Well?”

“I figured I’d provide the dinner since you’re providing the dessert.” He held up the best pizza in town and a case of craft beer I know he got from Zeke’s Joint.

He stepped forward and I put a hand to his chest, which I really shouldn’t have done, because sweet Jesus the man was hard. Everywhere. I may or may not have let my hand linger for a moment. “Who said anything about dessert?”

“You did. I’m here to help, so you’ll tell me all about the wedding cake.” When he stepped forward this time, all up into my personal space, I let him in because I make bad decisions.

“Who said anything about a wedding cake? You can come in, but I’m working on something else right now.”

Mason sniffed the air with a smile, kicked off his motorcycle boots and headed towards my kitchen. “Smells like peanut butter in here. I love peanut butter, Cupcake.”

“Is there anything you don’t love?”

He shrugged and sent me a smile over his shoulder. “Brussels sprouts. They taste like farts.”

I refused to even comment on that. “What kind of pizza did you bring?”

“Vegetable pizza with double cheese.”

I frowned at him suspiciously. “That’s my favorite.”

He grinned again, super satisfied with himself. “I know. Sam told me when I placed the order. Do you need to do something with your peanut butter before we eat?”

The timer was on so I grabbed two plates and took a seat at the kitchen table. “Thanks for this. It’s much better than the tomato and mozzarella sandwich I planned to make.”

Mason’s green eyes widened. “That’s what you make when you’re too busy? That’s practically gourmet food right there. Let me guess with a balsamic glaze or pesto?”

I grinned. “Those are my go-to options, yes.”

“Next time you have a surplus of food, or don’t want to eat alone, call me.” His expression was deadly serious, and it made me wonder if maybe Mason was as lonely as I was. Maybe he was just better at pretending, or maybe he just really liked food.

The timer went off and I stood to pour the peanut butter ganache over a chocolate fudge cake. “I would, but you’re only using me for my food.”

“Not at all, you just happen to be an excellent cook. If you want, I could use you for your body.” As he said the words, Mason let his hands drag up my side, from my hips, not stopping until his hands rested on my shoulders and his mouth was at my ear. “Or I could let you use me for my body. Anything you want.” When he nipped my ear, it was impossible to suppress the moan that slipped out because Mason was as potent as a bottle of absinthe.

“But you don’t even like me.” I don’t know who that sexy, breathy voice belonged to, but I was pretty sure it wasn’t me.

“Of course I do. Does this feel like I don’t like you?” Mason’s hips pressed against me from behind until his long, denim covered erection pressed against my ass. “Does it?”

“N-n-no,” I stammered out as he applied pressure with his hips, my back arched on its own in an effort to feel more of him. “It doesn’t, but that’s because you like fucking me.” Mason spun me around at that, his green eyes serious and seriously pissed off.

“You think that’s all I want?”

“It’s okay, Mason. I already told you-,” He cut my words off by slamming his mouth against mine and letting his tongue slide back and forth across my needy mouth until my lips were slick. One hand slipped under my t-shirt, pulling a moan from me that allowed him to slip between my lips and the taste of him, a mix of garlic and tomatoes and brown ale that was somehow as irresistible as the man himself.

He made love to my mouth as thoroughly as he had in my dreams, and as effectively as he had on the plane from Vegas. How the man could do so much with his tongue was beyond me, but my girl parts remembered every swipe of his tongue and every flick of the tip of his tongue, making me shiver and vibrate under his hands. “Do I want to fuck you, Trish? Of course I do. I can’t stop thinking about how tight and wet you felt around me, or the way you fucked my face like the dirty girl you are.” A moan escaped at his low, gritty tone and I knew I was in trouble. I needed to step back and send Mason home, because the man was nothing but trouble.

But that’s not what I did.

“Dirty?”

He nodded. “So, so dirty,” he whispered, and reached down in front of me, sliding his hands up my skirt until he reached the waistband of my sheer white panties and tugged them down my legs. “Fuck me,” he bit out, “your underwear are the stuff of my filthiest fantasies, Cupcake.” His lips curled up into a devious smile and he tucked my panties into his back pocket. “Here, let me show you.” Without another word, he lifted me onto the end of the countertop, thankfully far away from the ganache covered cake, and stepped between my legs.

This was the moment I should have pushed him away, but knowing something was a bad idea, and resisting that temptation when it stood between your legs with two fingers poised at your opening were two totally different things. “Mason…”

He grinned. “That’s me. I want to hear you moan my name, Cupcake. Scream my name, and I’m going to make you do just that without fucking you.”

“What?” I didn’t know what kind of game he was playing, but I was hot and horny and perched on the edge of an orgasm already. “What do you…oh!” Those two wicked fingers slipped inside me, tortuously slow until he could enter me no more. In and out he went until his fingers were coated in my arousal. “Mason,” I moaned and my head fell back.

“No, Cupcake. I want you to watch. Take a good look at how much you love it when I touch you.” I opened my eyes and looked down at his slick fingers sliding in and out of me. Slow and deep. So deep my hips jerked forward, needy for more.

“Faster,” I panted, but he didn’t listen, going even slower and drawing out my pleasure. “Mason,” I grunted. “More, please.”

“Oh fuck, I love it when you beg Cupcake.” The more I begged for more, for harder, for faster, the harder he was pressed against my thigh. Eventually I let my head fall back again, and opened my legs to take more of what he was offering until finally Mason gave me exactly what I wanted. “You’re close. I can feel your pussy pulsing as your orgasm draws closer. Feel that? You’re soaking wet.”

He was right, the sounds of his fingers sliding through my juices blended with my pants and his low grunts. “Mason,” I moaned and grabbed his wrist, holding it right where I needed him to get there. His mouth went to my neck while his fingers plunged deep inside of me faster and faster until I froze in a tight clench, wrapped around his body in every possible way. “Oh, holy hell!” My body shook ferociously as the orgasm left my body in slow, pulsing waves.

I collapsed on my back, and when I looked up, Mason was smiling at me. “The way you look when you come is so fucking hot, Cupcake. Well that, and the sounds you make while you chase your pleasure.”

“I could have chased it just as easily with your cock.” He groaned at my words and slowly pulled his fingers from me. “Oh!”

“Maybe next time,” he said as he licked his fingers. Slowly. Seductively. Wantonly.

Next time? Would there be a next time?

I didn’t know, and in that moment, I hoped the answer was a resounding ‘hell yes’.