Sweet Obsession

“That’s not the same thing. I mean, yeah, I say it to my family. I have to. My mom would punch me in my teeth if I didn’t tell her I loved her.”

“Your mum a violent woman with everyone? Should I scream my affection for her when we meet?” He smiles when I poke his side. “You say it to your friends, yeah?”

“No.”

“Never? Not even growing up?”

“I didn’t really have friends growing up.”

“Come on.” His brow pulls tight. “I don’t believe that. I bet you were very popular in school.”

“Yeah, with the boys. And they weren’t interested in being my friend. Girls were either nasty to me because they were jealous or they had no idea who I was. I never had a best mate.” My eyes lower to a spot between us. “I had my sister, Juls, and we were forced to like each other so that doesn’t count. And now, yeah, I’m friends with Joey and Billy. I’ve known Dylan for years, but it’s not the same thing.”

I flop back over and blink up at the ceiling. My hands tangle together on my stomach.

I think about Mason that night at The Tavern, how he told me all the things he wanted from this, what more meant to him, and how I almost laughed at his desire for a friendship on top of everything else.

Would I laugh now?

Clearing my head, I bump my leg against his. “So, I guess you don’t know what it’s like saying it then. I mean, really saying it. Mates don’t count.”

“No, I guess not,” he chuckles. “If we’re not counting mates or mums.”

“Or Mother Earth. I’m sure you’ve pledged your undying affection for that bitch.”

In a flash, he rolls over and pins me beneath him. I giggle against his neck.

“Jealous?” His hard torso settles between my legs. He tilts my chin and claims my mouth, stealing my ability to answer.

We kiss slowly, a gentle glide of lips and tongues until our breaths grow hurried and our hands no longer hold our bodies together, but roughly explore skin and shape.

My fingers filter through his hair and tug on the ends. I wrap my legs around his waist. When his hips start gently thrusting forward, pressing his erection against my clit, I gasp into his mouth and squirm beneath him. I reach under his shirt and feel the warm skin of his back. My nails pull him closer, my body jutting away from the earth and further into his arms.

He squeezes my breast, taking and taking my mouth until I’m bruised and breathless.

Nothing is hotter than Mason’s desperation, and it’s evident in everything.

His kiss. His touch. The way his voice breaks when he says my name.

“Brooke.”

I grasp at his body like he’s slipping away. I’m worried he will.

I want him to want me so badly he can’t remember anyone before. I want him to distract me so I’m not completely terrified of what this is or what it’s becoming.

I don’t want to think. I just want to feel. His hands. His mouth. The wild pace of his heart.

He sucks on my neck and my head rolls to the side.

I spot my duffle. I remember what’s in it.

“Wait. I brought you something.” I push against his shoulders and he rolls off, growling his protest. I stand and give him a playful look. “You’ll like it. Trust me.”

“I liked what we were doing.” He tucks both hands behind his head. His feet cross at his ankles. “Is it another koala?

“No,” I laugh, unzipping the bag. I strip my shirt off and toss it aside. My bra is next. I look up at Mason and find his attention drawn off my face. “Close your eyes,” I tell him, my fingers popping the button of my jeans.

He continues to stare, his erection tenting his pants. “I can’t.”

“Please? It’ll be worth it. I promise.”

With a disapproving grunt, he pinches his eyes shut. I don’t trust him not to peek so I carry my shirt over and toss it onto his face. He chuckles against the material. I take a full minute to appreciate the line of his cock.

Hot damn.

I strip my jeans off but leave on my blue lace thong. After changing into the outfit I packed, I straddle Mason’s waist and sink to my knees.

“Okay. You can look.”

He tosses the shirt and opens his eyes, wide, wider the longer he stares at my cheerleading outfit from college.

“Jesus Christ, Brooke. This is what you brought me?” He runs his hands up my thighs and under my skirt. The light from the lantern flickers in his blue irises.

“Still fits.” I wink, cupping my breasts through the tight polyester. “Itchy as fuck, though. I better make this quick.”

“Make what quick?”

I shoot down and tug on his warm-ups. His cock springs free, slapping hard and heavy against his stomach.

He hisses through his teeth. “Brooke. Wait.”

I put my weight on my knees. I’m prepared for his protest. “You don’t want my hands or my mouth, and you don’t want to have sex yet. Fine. But you never said anything about dry humping.” I blow him a kiss before spinning around and lowering myself onto his pelvis. I move my ass against his cock, rolling my hips in slow circles.

He twitches beneath me and I smile.

“Mm. Remember those dreams you have about me, Mason? When you spank me and come on my ass?”

“Fuck,” he groans, pushing up my skirt, holding it at my waist so he can watch.

I grind my pussy against his shaft. My back bowing as I squeeze his thighs. “Do you like this?” I ask, glancing over my shoulder.