Sweet, Tart by Jamie Bennett

Author:Jamie Bennett [Bennett, Jamie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-04-06T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 10

Mason was kissing me. It took me a moment to understand what was happening, that Mason had leaned over the top of my screen and his lips were on mine, and now…oh, Jesus. His tongue.

He moved the computer from between us and then he was pulling me to him, his tongue still delving in my mouth, his one hand fisting in the back of my t-shirt and the other at my neck, fingers threaded in my hair, holding me steady for his kiss. We slowly lay back onto the bed, his body against mine and cradled between my thighs, hard and heavy between my thighs. He picked up his head and murmured something, then his mouth went to my ear and my jaw and he rotated his hips, pressing into me.

This was what I had been writing about. This feeling of almost jumping out of my skin with need and desire, the sudden shock of pleasure at my core that spread through every part of me. I could feel him everywhere, surrounding me. His hand was on my breast, and I gasped and shook.

Mason picked up his head. “Maggie, I’m sorry, you were reading that and you looked so…shit, you looked so beautiful…”

I kissed him again, this time fluttering my own tongue into his mouth, sliding my hands below his waist to his, yes, his ass was in my hands. I could feel the muscles flex as I rubbed. “Did you ever do those things, the things you write about, or is it really all your imagination?” he asked me.

“Imagination.” It came out as a gasp, because he was moving his hips up and down, massaging himself against me, against my clit. Sex in my past had been of the wham, bam, thank you ma’am variety. Any orgasmic action had been on my own, but, Jesus, if he kept doing that…

“We should try it.”

My eyes got wide. “I don’t want to do all of what I wrote.” Definitely not.

“Let’s try some of it. Take this off.” Mason pulled my t-shirt over my head and leaned on his elbows to cup both my breasts in his hands. He played his thumbs over my nipples. “Like this?” he murmured, squeezing gently too. He edged down and licked, then sucked my nipple into his mouth.

His weight held me to the bed; otherwise, I would have flown. I had written about this and it sure sounded good, but the actual feeling of it, of his warm mouth and his tongue circling, teeth nibbling now—“Mason!” I had my hands in his hair. How often had I wanted to touch his dark hair, to feel the silky thickness between my fingers? He moved to my other breast and I moaned his name when he suckled one and pinched my other, wet nipple between his fingers. I let go of his hair to pull his shirt over his head, too, to feel his skin against mine.

Mason went down my body, kissing my ribs, playing in my bellybutton with his tongue.

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