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Don't Baby Me: Maple Mills Book Four by Kate Gilead (9)

Nine

I’m lying flat on my back on the bed, naked.

Mason puts a pillow under my ass and takes a position between my open legs, his eyes riveted on my pussy, spread and open to his touch.

He examines my tender valley as if he’s never seen it before, licking it tentatively, sending shudders through me, then running an inquisitive fingertip through my folds.

He inserts that fingertip just inside my entrance and makes tiny stirring motions.

My opening contracts and then relaxes, making my toes curl and uncurl restlessly.

Leaning forward, he pushes his tongue into me, tasting me and coaxing more cream to flow, smacking his lips with satisfaction before going back for more.

I moan softly, hips writhing towards him.

Gently, insistently, he flicks my clit with the tip of his tongue, over and over, making my whole pussy clench and relax in time with him; making my thighs jump and my feet flex.

Now I’m wet, and wriggling with arousal. One of his thick fingers glides inside me. Ohh god…then he turns it, so gently, so tantalizing that I have to lay still in order to absorb the sensations.

He searches, rubbing until he touches that spot that instantly blazes into pleasure, making my pussy grip his finger, making me gasp and my heart pound.

Now he curls that finger towards himself, very delicately, just barely tapping it on the inside of my body.

And at the same time, he applies his mouth to my clit, flicking and then sucking very gently, his mouth and lips applying consistent warm, wet, flicking, suctioning pleasure that soon begins to mount.

All the while that talented finger keeps rubbing and rubbing, making that luscious golden pleasure leap and grow. He increases the pressure, and keeps consistent sucking, licking and flicking... lips and tongue on my clit, and ohh….ohhhh…god, I…this is the most intense pleasure I’ve ever felt…this is….it’s

“Mason,” I gasp, my voice hoarse, “Mason…oh god, don’t stop….don’t stop….”

My tunnel clenches in that first glorious contraction, and then it holds, the pleasure somehow both stretches outwards and spears itself deeply into me, capturing my clit as well in its delectable grip.

My breath catches and my stomach tightens.

Mindlessly, I grab my knees and pull them back, wanting more, wanting to give him everything, looking down to see him glancing up at me, eyes intense and blazing with lust.

Quickly, he changes his position and inserts two fingers, using his other hand now to press down on my belly just above my mons.

Pushing them upwards and into me, he uses his fingers to stroke harder, my juices squelching and smacking loudly, as he curls both those fingers against the upper wall of my channel.

Faster and faster he strokes me, and the fire that he started with one finger now blazes furiously, engulfing my pussy with a liquid pleasure, smooth and rich like butterscotch, and somewhere deep inside something relaxes fully and then squeezes, hard, under Mason’s knowing touch.

My belly tightens and then loosens and as it tightens again, the most profound orgasmic contraction I’ve ever felt begins.

Ahhh jesus oh fuck oh fuck,” I hear myself sob, and I’m coming, coming so hard that fluid literally flies from my pussy, splashing Mason in the chest a bit as he works my pussy with his hand.

“Oh fuck yeah,” he cries, and begins growling encouragement. “Yeah…oh yeah that’s right…so fucking hot…come all over me!” and this makes me come even harder, it’s so good that I can’t even describe it; I come so hard it’s as if my orgasm literally turned into hot fluid that squirts from my pussy with every spasm. Jesus! Each spurt is a profoundly pleasurable, mind-blowing spike so exquisite, my body shakes and jitters uncontrollably, each one more intense than the last.

“Oh fuck yeah…oh baby…lemme fuck that sexy pussy…” he growls, quickly kneeling in place between my legs.

His cock is straining upwards, rock-hard and dripping precum.

Shaking with lust, he thrusts himself straight into my soaked and swollen flesh while I’m still in the throes of orgasm. His cock is hot, steel-hard and greedy for me, his teeth bared and his wordless growls like erotic music to my ears.

He pushes my legs back with his hands, holding me all the way open.

Leaning into it, he fucks me hard now, no holds barred. I grab at his hips and his shoulders, moaning and crying, my tits jiggling and my legs trembling.

My pussy feels different around his cock, it feels hotter and tighter as it grasps and grips his shaft, working it like a warm, hungry mouth.

Unnhhhh,” he cries, thrusting himself balls-deep; and then he’s digging into me, digging it into me, so good, so sweet, his cock huge and hard, drawing my pleasure out with its throbbing, insistent length.

Unnhhhh…unnhh…” he moans, and his eyes squeeze shut as he erupts into my pulsing flesh, tight and swollen with orgasm, milking his seed from his straining length in wave after wave of pleasure.

* * *

“Jesus,” I whisper, some time later. “That was…incredible. I’ve never, ever come like that, not with a vibrator, not with a shower head…that was the most intense, hottest orgasm ever!

Mason’s lying next to me, sweaty and smelling of sex. My pussy’s still having residual twinges of pleasure, and his cock is still half-hard from the strength of his own explosive orgasm.

“I thought you might be a squirter. I could tell from how you were responding to me.” He laughs, and pulls me close.

“My god, I had no idea how intense that could be!”

“Damn, it was fucking awesome! Samantha, that was the hottest thing ever, making you come like that.” He kisses my head and then we both lay quietly and rest.

He’s quiet for so long, I think maybe he fell asleep.

But when I look at him, he looks back at me, with a devilish glint in his eye.

“I wonder if…would you be interested in helping me with a special project?”

“Maybe? I dunno about that look in your eye. What’s on your dirty mind?”

“I want to build another toy. A sex toy. One that reliably produces female ejaculation. I’m thinking of calling it the The E-Jack-U-Lator. Think you’d be interested in being a test subject?”

Like I need to be asked twice!

“Fuck, yeah! I think we should get on that right away! As soon as possible!” I grin. “But that name sounds like something you’d use on a guy. You should call it the E-Jill-U-Lator. Or, no…no…the Jill-Off. Or, wait, no…how about…the Jill Jacker!”

We’re cackling like fools.

“Oh baby,” he says, laughing. “This thing is gonna be a winner! It has to wait until my current project is done. But we can start sometime next year, early. Maybe right after New Year’s.”

“Darn, that long huh?”

He snorts. “It’s not that far away.”

“Feels like forever. In the meantime, though, I think we should keep practicing with your finger. Just to make sure we don’t get rusty.” I grin.

He guffaws. “You got a deal. Fuck, baby! Nothing could be sexier, nothing could be hotter than making you come like that…you looked so fucking hot…nuclear-hot…words-can’t-describe how hot you are when you’re coming all over me like that.”

I hug him close. “Maybe it’s for the best to build a machine for it. That way, your finger will get a rest. Because, sweetie…I want you to do that to me for the rest of my life. Don’t even think you can get rid of me now!”

It’s one o’clock in the morning, late, past Drew’s normal feeding time. But the monitor is still quiet. We check on him quickly. He’s still sleeping peacefully. After a quick shower together, we pull on clean night wear, change the sheets and fall into bed, exhausted but resigned to waking up at any moment for Drew’s feeding.

But when we hear his hungry cries and I rise to get his bottle, the clock shows an amazing sight.

It’s past seven in the morning!

For the first time, our beautiful baby boy slept through the night.

* * *

Christmas time. Six months old, Drew is a happy, alert, healthy and delightful baby boy. I’m living here full time.

I’m home.

I am completely and totally in love with this child and his father, both. They are my world, my life, my family, and I am theirs. No one doubts or questions it anymore and it’s just a matter of time before we get engaged and make it official.

We are completely intertwined now. My parents and brother are back and forth to our place as much as they like, as we are to their house, as well. They’ve babysat Andrew, taken him places and had him for weekend visits. They’re his grandparents through and through.

We’ve had my kid brother here overnight many times. Mason loves him, thinks he’s a hoot. Stevie is showing a promising interest in aviation robotics himself, which fact Mason takes delight in, teaching Stevie everything he can, at every opportunity.

I’m a different person than I was six months ago. Love and responsibility has matured me.

Most astonishing to me is how having a family has freed me, not chained me.

How is this possible? Simple. I am no longer stuck in a protracted childhood, a self-absorbed, perpetual teenager with nothing important to do.

Rather, I feel more free now, free to keep growing and developing and loving my future husband, our child and every other child of the family we plan to start making, as soon as we tie the knot.

I can’t wait until Drew calls me “mommy”.

And I can’t wait until Mason calls me his wife.

My whole family, including aunts, uncles and cousins, are here for a big Christmas dinner, bunking in the nanny’s suite, the spare rooms and the basement.

During the meal, Mason announces that part of his gift to me is a surprise trip.

“Pack up,” he says. “We’re leaving first thing in the morning.”

Literally every one else around the table grins at me.

“Oh, everyone knows this but me?”

They all chorus in the affirmative, laughing.

“All I’m telling you now is that I got your parents to babysit Andrew for a few days, so we can have some much-needed time off, together.”

I look at my mom, who’s holding baby Drew in her lap, and then my dad. “Really? Thanks! That’s awesome!”

“It’s our pleasure! Andrew’s such a good bubba,” Mom croons, kissing his fuzzy head. “Weese doona hab funs, huh, bubba? Yeah! Weese doona hab lotsa funs!”

The baby smiles and babbles in agreement.

“Are we going somewhere special?” I ask.

“You’ll see.”

* * *

The next morning.

We board Mason’s private jet for a flight to Italy.

It’s my first time to Europe, my first chance to visit that ancient homeland.

Now, it’s two days later. Mason and I are at his European base, which, to my amazement, turns out to be a castle.

Castello Grimmetti, the family estate in Tuscany. A medieval castle-fortress built in 1532, it’s fully modernized and extremely luxurious.

At nearly two thousand acres, the property boasts a dozen estate homes housing venerable families from the region, several vineyards growing Chianti grapes, a lake and even a tiny village where some of the Grimmetti employees live and raise their children.

Needless to say, it’s beautiful.

“I didn’t tell you about it because, it’s…well, a lot to take in. Overwhelming. Besides, I thought it was better to show you.”

“I’m glad you only told my family about the trip, and not the…destination.”

“Only your father knows about the estate. You know he won’t say a word to anyone else, not even your mom. So, I’ll leave it to you when to tell her. As for your friends, and cousins, I’d say, give it time. They don’t need to know right now. If at all.” He pauses. “When people know you have money, they can get weird. Some things are better kept secret.”

He should know. Plus, I am overwhelmed. How do you cope with crazy wealth like this?

But Mason’s been coping for years, and he’s still just Mason. The down-to-earth, generous, sensitive, sexy family man that I love.

All I can do is keep being me, plain old Samantha, and let Mason worry about being a secret billionaire.

Right now, we’re in his master suite, a modernized apartment which occupies a set of stone chambers in one wing of the castle.

We’re cuddling in bed. To one side, there’s a roaring fire in a huge, ancient hearth.

On the other side, there’s a long, modern picture window, overlooking a frosty vineyard and the valley below.

Above, a full moon rides high in the velvety sky, casting its gorgeous silver rays over the sparkling vista.

Wrapped in each other’s arms, we raise a toast with a glass of estate Chianti di Mario, vintage 1982, the year of Mason’s birth.

Eyes shining, Mason produces a ring. “Ti amo,” he says, sliding it onto my finger, “vuoi passare il resto della tua vita con me?” He smiles. “I love you. Will you spend the rest of your life with me?”

But a ring needs no translation.

“Sì, sì, amore mio,” I reply in my halting Italian, tears brimming along with my smile.

The celebration begins...with a kiss.

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