When I'm Gone

I didn’t recognize the lyrics, but they drew me in. I opened the door and stepped into the steam. He didn’t notice me, but his head was tilted back under the water, and he was still singing.

I’ll take your demons if you’ll let me in. Don’t hold it back, baby, because all I want to give is more.

His head turned, and his singing stopped when his eyes locked with mine.

It wasn’t one of those things I needed to think about and plan. This man loved me, and I knew I’d never love anyone the way I loved him. He was willing to take anything I threw at him, as long as he could hold me in the end.

Grabbing the hem of my shirt, I pulled it up and over my head and tossed it to the floor. Then I quickly slipped off my panties and went to open the shower door. Mase stood frozen as his gaze trailed down my naked body.

Stepping into the hot stream of water, I looked down at his thick, corded thighs and trailed my gaze up to see that he was hard and ready. Feeling brave and safe, I reached for the soap and began lathering my hands as Mase stood still. He didn’t move or even flinch. Only his eyes followed my every move. I moved closer and slid both hands over his hard, smooth length.

A low groan came from his chest, and I looked up at him to see his eyelids had lowered to that hooded expression I loved. Sliding my wet, soapy hands over him with long strokes, I watched as his jaw went lax, and he backed up and leaned against the wall. I moved a hand underneath to cup his tight sack and began soaping him there, too.

“Reese,” he moaned, reaching for my hand.

“Let me,” I begged, pressing my breasts against his chest.

“Ah . . . fuuuck.”

I kept my grip firm and slow as the tip of his penis grew red. Clear fluid began to leak out, and I became anxious to hear him come. I quickened my pace, and his breath hitched.

“I’m gonna . . . come. Shit, baby, I’m gonna come,” he said, and then a deep cry fell from his lips as his release shot out onto my stomach and over my hands.

“Don’t move.” He gasped, and I looked up to see his eyes zoom in on my stomach, covered in him. “Oh, goddamn . . . don’t move. Just let me look at you. Like that.”

Feeling brave, I ran my fingertip through the white stream of come that had landed on me. Then I lifted my gaze to look at him. His eyes had gone hot again. A possessive gleam shone in them.

“Rub it in,” he said in a hoarse whisper.

I did as he said. I used both hands and massaged it into my skin until it was gone.

He reached behind himself and took the bar of soap and began to soap his hands. Moving away from the wall, he closed the space between us until his hands covered my breasts. Then he began to wash me. Or them. Thoroughly. He pinched my nipples and squeezed them gently before moving down my stomach. When he got to where I’d rubbed his release into my skin, he washed it with a reverent touch that made the ache between my legs turn into a throb.

By the time he moved his hand between my legs, I had to put both my hands out to hold on to the wall on either side of me. My legs began to buckle, and Mase whispered in my ear that I was beautiful. That I was his. That he loved every part of me. That seeing his come on me made him crazy with need.

Holding on to his shoulders, I felt the buildup coming, and I knew I was about to be hit with an orgasm that would very likely send me to my knees.

Mase slipped an arm around my waist and held me as he pressed on my clit one more time. He held me while the pleasure crashed over me, and my knees finally gave in and buckled.

By the time I was coming back to earth, he had rinsed me and was carrying me out of the shower. He didn’t dry me until he set me on the end of his bed. When he had me dry, he did a quick once-over on himself, then moved me back on the bed.

His mouth covered mine as his hard, naked body brushed up against me. I arched my back, trying to feel more of him as he continued to hold himself up and over me. This would be another reason I was thankful for my long legs. I wrapped them around his waist and forced him down on me.

“Yes, oh, God, yes, that feels good,” I said against his mouth, as my breasts were finally smashed against his chest and my center was open to him while his thick erection rubbed against it.

Mase tore his mouth from mine and buried it in my neck. He was breathing hard. And I realized his hands were in tight fists by my head.

“Mase?” I asked, running my fingers down his back, enjoying the feel of the muscles flexed under my touch.

“I want . . . I can’t . . . God, baby,” he groaned, and his fists clenched as if he was fighting something hard.

I felt the swell of his erection jerk against me, and I knew then. He wanted inside me. I’d been so wrapped up in feeling him close that I hadn’t once gotten frightened.

The pain from my past. The pain that I once marked any contact with, sexual or otherwise, was no longer in my life. This man was my world. He loved me. He was gentle and careful with me. And I wanted to be as close to him as possible. I wanted to know what it was like to be one with him. This wasn’t dirty or wrong. This was beautiful and pure.

Lifting my hips, I moved my hand down and angled him until his tip was right there at my entrance. In one thrust, we would be joined. This was what sex was made for, a magical connection between two people who loved each other so much they became whole in body, if only for a moment. Just like the hearts they’d already joined together.

“Make love to me, Mase. Show me what love is like. Please.” I added the last word to remind him of all the times he’d asked me if he could touch me and ended it with “please.” I wanted this as much as he had wanted those things.