Sweet Obsession

But I also never gave a second thought to loving someone. I never imagined any of this happening.

Mason is my wild card. He’s that unexpected storm that hits when you’re outside on a beautiful day, and at first you don’t want it. You were enjoying the sun and the heat on your skin. That’s what makes you happy. Then the sky darkens and the temperature drops a little, and you think ‘okay, this breeze is nice’. You wait it out, thinking it’ll pass, but the rain starts to fall. The first drop hits your shoulder. Another soaks into your hair. It startles you, but it feels good. You were too hot anyway. Then before you know it, it’s pouring, saturating your clothes and pooling on the earth. A giggle bubbles in your throat. Where is this coming from? It’s so sudden and surprising, and in a matter of seconds, you’re drenched from head to toe. Your beautiful day is ruined, and you can’t stop laughing.

You can’t stop laughing.

The sun is overrated anyway. Give me a sweet storm when I least expect it.

Juls hums impatiently in my ear as I smile against my fingers.

“I . . .”

A knock on the door interrupts me. My heart thumps against my ribs.

Mason.

I leap off the bed and breeze through the condo. “Juls, hey, I gotta go. Mason is here.”

“What? No! Yes or no. Yes or no. Give me something.”

“I have to go,” I laugh, stepping up to the door and peering through the peep-hole, grinning at the gorgeous sight of the man on the other side.

Mason looks so damn good in a gray dress shirt, the button undone at the collar, revealing his tanned neck and the thick protuberance of his Adam’s apple.

Fuck, I want to lick him there.

He stares straight ahead, straight at me, as if he knows I’m looking at him. Admiring. A smirk playing on his lips and his blue eyes bright.

“Brooke,” Juls says in my ear, her voice insistent.

I feel a surge of heat blossom in my chest. My toes curl on the carpet.

“Yes.” I disconnect the call, cutting off her exuberant reply. I wrench the door open and hurl myself into Mason’s arms.

I cling to him, kissing his jaw and inhaling his warm skin.

Jesus. Do all Australians smell this good? Like sunshine and impending orgasms. Mercy.

“Hey.” He squeezes me back, wrapping his arms around my waist and lifting me off the ground. The pressure of his hold is paramount.

Did he hear me through the door? Does he know I just chose him as my forever?

I press my face against his neck, concealing my burning cheeks. “Hi,” I whisper.

He laughs quietly, then leans back to kiss my temple. “Little devil. Ready to go?”

“Change of plans.” I wiggle out of his arms and grab his hand, tugging him inside. I kick the door closed. “My nephew has the chicken pox. Juls just called. I’ve never had them so I can’t go over there. God, can you imagine if I got them now? With Dylan laid up? Joey would be in charge of the bakery.” I make a face. “Everything would be cream filled.”

Mason smirks, then lowers his eyes to my attire, focusing on the crisscross of fabric over my breasts. His chest moves with a deep inhale. “Yeah? No dinner?”

I shrug. “Well, no meal with my family. We can eat something here. Or go out.”

“Mm.” He reaches for the door and turns the lock. His eyes darken.

Oh. Ohhhh. Eat something here. Right. Excellent choice.

“Anyone else home, sweetheart?”

I watch Mason’s hands lower to his belt. My neck warms.

“No,” I answer, shaking my head as he steps closer. “No, they went out. They won’t be back for a while.”

“Good. I’ve been hard all day.”

My gaze flicks up to his. “You have?”

The sound of the belt loosening draws my attention back down. The sharp whip of leather.

Mason grabs my hand and presses it against his cock through the fabric of his pants. He moans. The stiff organ twitches in my palm.

“Oh,” I gasp, molding my hand to him. “God . . .”

“Ever since this morning, Brooke.”

He tips my chin up, looking at me while he uses my hand to stroke his length. The front of his pants becomes restrictive. My pulse quickens to a galloping pace.

“I keep hearing your voice telling me you’re with me, and I get so fucking hard.”

I grip his shirt, reaching for a kiss. “I’m with you.”

His breath bursts across my mouth. “Brooke.”

“Take me. Here. Right here.”

He grabs my breast roughly and squeezes, giving me the briefest of kisses before my head rolls to the side with a moan.

“I want you wet,” he says, kissing the line of my neck. Moving his breath over my skin. I shudder when I feel teeth. “So wet that when I bend down and lick that sweet pussy you drip down the back of my throat.”

“Mason, Jesus.” My hand goes stagnant against his cock. My other squeezing his waist. “That won’t be a problem.”

God, what his filthy mouth does to me. I’m worried my legs might give out soon.

He backs me against the bar counter, his thumb rubbing mercilessly over my nipple through the thin fabric of my dress.

I make quiet little noises against his shirt when he tugs on the hardened peak.

“I want you to milk my cock with these.” He runs his hand between my breasts. “And this.” He smooths his thumb over my mouth, then slides his hand beneath my dress and cups my throbbing sex. ns class="adsbygoogle" style="display:block" data-ad-client="ca-pub-7451196230453695" data-ad-slot="9930101810" data-ad-format="auto" data-full-width-responsive="true">