Filipendulous
adj.
hanging by a thread
I'm trapped.
At least it feels like it when I blink my eyes open at dawn and can't move one bit because Mason's clutching me like he's afraid I might run away.
He's snuggled up halfway on top of me, the side of his face cuddled between my breasts like they're the most comfortable pillow on earth. He's got me in a weird half-body chokehold too. His arm with the New York skyline tattooed on it is draped over my upper stomach, curling around my ribcage. His leg is slung over one of mine. I feel his breath through my thin top and his fingers twitch against my skin.
It's almost exactly how I woke up the morning after our first night together. Only now I'm not on the brink of toppling off my own bed when I had to carefully extricate myself from under him and let my bum drop to the floor before sitting on the other side.
This is what scared me last time. The closeness and severity of my feelings for him. The way my body reacts to him. The way I can't hold back.
I've gone so long without sex – without physical affection – and now every fiber, every tiny hair on my body responds by lighting up when his fingertips brush across bare skin or when I feel his semi hard cock pressed against my hip. His scent, the little sleepy noises he makes in the blissfully unconscious state between sleep and wakefulness.
I could get used to all of this.
I feel my heart picking up pace when Mason's hand escapes from underneath me, gliding down my ribs, my waist and over the expanse of my hip. His dick twitches, growing and hardening more, and he growls blearily against my sternum as he stirs awake.
He's trapped in hypnagogia and I'm stuck between feeling joyful and anxious. Joyful because I found him, the man who allows me to be myself completely, who desires me for me and accepts my dichotomy of old and new romantic feelings. But I'm still anxious because I might lose him too. I'm scared he won't stick around and get annoyed by my constant making leeway into the past and not having enough affection left for him.
"Hey," Mason groans, his voice gruff and drugged with sleep. "Good morning."
"Morning." I smile a weak smile.
He shifts, leaning up on his elbow to take a little of his weight off me. "God, I slept so fucking good." He kisses my chin, my jaw, my cheek, my nose and my forehead, simultaneously roaming his hand along my side. He chuckles. "I hope I didn't smother you."
He's fully hard now and hums deeply with every kiss. My breaths come as little gasped pants through my mouth because I too am as aroused as he his.
"Mason," I whisper-plea, not knowing what my plea is exactly.
Wild, dark blond strands of hair fall into his handsome chiseled face. "You're gorgeous in the morning, you know that?"
"I am?"
"God, yes." He dips down, pressing his lips to my temple and coasting them down to the shell of my ear. "I wish I could add some pink to those pretty cheeks by making you come first thing in the morning." Jesus, his dirty mouth. "Picture how that would go." He groans, then stills and swallows audibly as if he just realized what he's doing. "Shit. Am I going too far?"
My entire body hums and instead of answering him directly, I look him dead in the eye and ask, "How would you do it? Make me come, I mean?"
The surprise vanishes quickly from his face, replaced by something darker.
"Like this." His hand ghosts down my stomach, fingertips dipping under the edge of my underwear. I tilt my hips and tip my knees open, giving him access and offering myself on a silver platter in hopes he'd dive deeper and touch me.
But he doesn't.
"Imagine how I slide my hand under the waistband," he murmurs instead. "How the tips of my fingers brush over your skin."
I take a breath through my lips, then hold it.
"Are you imagining it?"
"Yes," I breathe hoarsely.
A puff of air hits my ear when as he laughs. "Good. When I go further and find you wet and hot, am I using one or two fingers?" he asks gravely, moving on top of me with one swift movement and settling between my thighs, but still not touching me. Not really.
"Two," I husk.
"Yes," he murmurs, dragging the tip of his nose down the bridge of mine. "Imagine how I slowly add a second finger to the one inside your tight pussy. So warm and perfect, taking my fingers so well just like that night under the stars of Tasmania." He chafes his short-bearded jaw along my cheek and kisses down the column of my neck. "I still think about it a lot."
Me too. My breath hitches.
"Imagine my fingers sliding in and out of you with ease because you're soaked for me. Every time I push inside you, I curl my fingers up and find that sensitive spot that makes you moan." His tongue lashes out for a quick taste. "Imagine my thumb pressing and rubbing against your clit."
My whole body jerks. He's not even really touching me, just murmuring, kissing and moving his lips against my neck. Our fronts don't even touch, he's only hovering over me. And it drives me crazy.
"Just like that. Am I going slow or fast?"
I don't think I can talk. "Slow."
He grins into my neck. "Yeah. Nice and slow, fucking you with my hand and enjoying and savoring every second of feeling you tense around my fingers. Fuck, Rye, you know how good you feel?" Oh damn, I'm overheating. "I draw slow circles on your sweet pleasure point, push my fingers as deep as I can, wishing it'd be my cock instead."
God, yes!
On instinct, I buck my hips, pushing them up to chase the phantom feeling of him, but of course I can't because. He. Is. Not. Touching. Me. Instead, he creates more space between us by pushing away.
"No! Don't stop," I beg, clawing at his arms.
He chuckles. "Patience, babe. I'm going to take care of you. I just need to kiss first."
And he does, pressing his too soft lips to mine and intruding my mouth with his tongue while grabbing the back of my neck to hold me in place.
Every thought is blown out of my mind and my thighs clamp around his waist, trying to wrench him closer. I need him closer. I'm hanging on by a capillary thread here.
Everything inside me pulls tight, I feel an emptiness hollow in my belly and I'm in fact fucking wet. I want him to give me what he's promising me, make me orgasm on his fingers before he takes me for another round on his cock. He felt so good fucking me last time and I want that again. I don't care about boundaries or about taking it slow anymore. I just want Mason.
But I can't tell him that because his lips render me speechless as they explore and devour me.
I bring my hands around his back, hiking my legs higher around his waist and urge him closer. When he finally surrenders and drops his body, his hips slanting over mine, I sigh with a quiet "yes" at his heavenly weight.
His head drops to my collarbone and his heavy, hard, gorgeous length presses against my core. A quiet curse leaves his throat on a groan. I whimper with blind want as I feel him lose control.
Mason licks the seam of my bottom lip and reaches between us and into his black boxer briefs, adjusting himself. "Forget my fingers," he says roughly against my lips. "I want my cock inside you."
"I want that too," I whisper, hiccupping a moan.
He holds his balance on one elbow and brackets my neck with his other hand, rolling and thrusting his pulsing cock against my center. He's perfectly angled himself so he's rubbing over my clit with every hard inch of him, each snap and roll of his hips at a time when he starts moving. My breath hitches. He moans and only a second later we are dry humping and gyrating our lower bodies against each other like there's no tomorrow, going at it and making out like the world is going to end any second.
"Fuck, Riley. I can feel how fucking wet you are. You're soaked." He grabs my wrists and pins my arms above my head, ramming his groin against me.
That's it. I'm drifting off into a high that I've never felt before. He's going to make me come like this and he knows it.
Unable to move my arms, I turn my head slightly and whisper-sob, "I want to see you."
He sits back, sliding his hands all the way from my wrists to my ribs, leaving my skin on fire. "What?"
My free hands find their way up his stomach, pushing his t-shirt up. "Take this off." When I can't have him inside me, at least I need to feel his skin on mine. The haziness disappears from his eyes when he blinks. His mouth opens to object, but I beat him to it, "We're already dry humping like a couple horny teenagers. And I've seen you naked before, pretty boy."
His head falls forward with a spluttering hearty laugh, the tips of his hair brushing across my chin. He complies and sits back on his heels, lifting his shirt over his head and throwing it across the room.
"Damn, you're really pretty," I murmur, sliding my palms all over his abdomen and down to the perfectly carved V, following my movement with my eyes and not missing the serious bulge in his briefs.
He smiles again and my gaze flicks up. His crooked, boyish grin is going to be my undoing. "I am?" he asks almost shyly.
"Mmh-hmm." My tongue tracks over my bottom lip before I pull it into between my teeth.
Mason's swallows and his eyes darken with hunger. But there's uncertainty too and he doesn't ask me to take off my shirt.
Tracking my hands over the ink lines on his arms, I feel his muscles twitch before I tug at his wrists to pull him back down to me. He stretches over me again, his corded muscles pulling tight when he holds himself up above me.
The rocks of his hips are slower now and he's gaining more and more control over the movement as he goes. Once our eyes lock, the world around us disappears. There's so much in those grey-blue orbits. Something wild and feral, but something tender and loving too. It's melting me from the inside out. Our bodies are molding together as we grind. Shit, this is equally intense and hot. The steadiness and the rubbing reminds me of when I was younger and first started to discover my sexuality.
God, this feels like ages ago.
My eyes flutter closed as I feel the first ripple of an impending orgasm, unable to hold the intensity of his stare.
"Fuck, Riley, you're coming," he says with such awe and adoration that I shatter in slow-motion. My back bows off the bed as everything inside me contracts. My mouth forms an O and when the pressure snaps, every nerve in my body explodes with light. I see stars, moaning breathlessly while he "fucks" me through it all. This feeling is nirvana.
When my vision clears, more lust than I ever thought possible drips like honey into my veins. As satisfying as that was, soon I will need more.
"Jesus Christ," Mason huffs into my neck, burying his face in my hair. "That was- holy fuck, that was hot. I want to make you come all day long just to see your beautiful face."
Overwhelmed by my feelings and the aftershocks of my euphoria, I keep silent, drag my lips along his neck and try to uncurl my hands from his shoulders, reaching up to pull his face back to mine. Once he's kissing me back, I slide my hands between us, down, down and push the waistband of his boxer briefs down enough to free his hard-on.
He jerks a full-body jerk when I close my fist around his length. He's rock-hard, thick and weighty in my palm. I know there's a vein I love on the topside running along the length of him, and I try to find and trace it with my thumb.
"Shit," he whispers, dropping his forehead to mine, unable to keep kissing me. He crumbles more when I glide my palm over the velvety skin of his shaft, gripping a bit tighter until I reach the softer head and swipe my thumb over it to use the bead of leaking pre-cum there as lubricant to make this easier. I loosen my grip, bring my hand back to the base and repeat the motion.
"Good?" I ask sultrily, grabbing a handful of hair at his nape with my free hand.
His hips buck involuntarily. "Yes. You can grab me firmer, stroke me harder." And when I do as I'm told, "Yeah, just like that."
He hums deeply in the back of his throat and it comes out like a growl when he starts to thrust his hips back and forth, using my hand to pleasure himself. He's losing control, going into a frenzy, and I love it.
I love seeing him lose himself "inside" me. I love the sense of dominance I gain from seeing him like this even though I'm on my back and trapped with him between my spread legs. He's much stronger than me and could easily take over and take from me. But he doesn't. He's patiently waiting for what I can give.
"That's it," he drawls, shuddering. His dick pulses in my palm.
I wish I could find the right words to tell him how he makes me feel, how mesmerizing he looks losing his mind over me and what else I want to do to him. I'm not shy. Giving little instructions and commands to make sure I'm taken care of is easy, but I just can't seem to find the right words to tell him that I can't wait to find out what his cock would feel like in my mouth.
As if he just heard parts of my thought process, he leans his upper body to one side and gently outlines my lips with the pad of his thumb. Without thinking twice, I open my mouth and take it between my lips, sucking and moaning around it.
"Riley... fuck." Mason pants, his hips picking up pace. "Are you imagining my cock in your mouth?"
I hum a 'yeah' around his finger, eyes fluttering shut as I nod.
He groans. "I can't wait for you to do that. I'm going to cum so freaking fast."
His thrusts become sloppier and sloppier until a breath catches in his throat and his face falls to my neck again.
Now, Riley! Go!
Popping my lips off his thumb with a plop, I muster up all my courage and ask, "Wanna come on my chest?"
Mason's head whips up, eyes wide with shock but so dark they're almost black before he scrunches them shut. His arms shake as a full-body shudder makes him roar a guttural groan. I feel the sticky hotness of his release burst against my wrist when he stills.
Time slows and neither of us moves until Mason's chest inflates as he hauls air into his lungs, pushing up on wobbly arms so he can look down at me. He looks beautiful with that crooked, coy smile and untamed hair.
"You good?" I ask quietly, unable to stop myself from threading my undefiled fingers through his mane.
Maybe I should've taken things into my own hands – no pun intended – and just pulled his waistband further down for him and told him what I wanted.
He flashes me a sweet grin that instantly makes me forget my doubts. His lips descend on mine for a deep but too short kiss. "Hell yeah, I'm good. Your sneaky little question just threw off guard. But for the record, next time, yes is my default answer to that." Another kiss. "That would've been... wow! That mental image..." He shakes his head in disbelief. "Are you okay though?"
"I'm more than okay," I tell him, sliding my hand from his hair to his jaw.
"Good. I want nothing more than for you to be happy," he murmurs against my lips. The little puffs of hair tingle on my sensitive skin.
"You make me happy." I tip my chin up, catching his mouth again.
Mason hums a deep, drawn-out hum. He stifles a groan when things become heated again and rolls off me with a huff. "Alright," he declares. "We need to clean up this mess"– he takes a pointed look between us –"and get going."
~~~
With Baby on a leash again, we pace down the same planked path we took yesterday. Thanks to our "activities", we're about to be late for the first round of the quarter finals. Sonya sends us a knowing smile but doesn't say anything, turning her attention back to her daughter when we reach them just in time.
Emma's determined today, checking her ponytail one last time before heading off towards the shore. She's on point today – a rocket on the waves. She's so much more confident than yesterday and it shows. Her stance is better, her overall shape too.
"She's really good," Mason says from next to me. He's wearing a dark red t-shirt that clashes with the bright violet hair tie around his wrist.
"You saw her yesterday," I remark.
"Yeah, but yesterday I was distracted. Now that I get to do this," he clasps my hand in his, squeezing, "I can relax."
"But I can't," I say, watching Emma sit on her board, bobbing up and down in the water as she waits for a good wave. But it's not her performance I worry about.
"Stop thinking." He strokes his thumb over the back of my hand, ducking his head so he can speak next to my ear. "Nobody's gonna figure out you made a grown man cum in his briefs unless you keep biting your lips like you do." I slap his chest, hissing in a breath. He just laughs it off wrapping both arms around me. "For real though, Emma's doing great out there."
"I know. It's not what I'm thinking about," I admit, avoiding meeting his eyes.
Mason stays quiet for a moment, then asks, "Your friends?"
I swallow, nodding. Despite Danny saying it's fine for me to move on, I dread telling him because I know it's going to hurt him to some extend and he's never going to admit it. Samir was his brother – is his brother. And Mason is his friend. He's known both of them longer.
I dread telling everyone really because of what it all means for me. Am I really ready to let go for good?
I turn to face him. "I don't want to hide us. It's just..."
"A lot," he finishes for me when I trail off.
"Yeah. And Danny's my brother-in-law."
Mason blows out a breath. "I did not think of that." Something flashes in his eyes, and he lightly flicks my chin from underneath. "Hey, doesn't being in a relationship mean, we're supposed to do things together?"
"Yeah."
"Well, then, you don't have to face anyone alone, right? Ever. I'm here." He levels me with a chuckle and a smug look on his face. "I'm not going anywhere, Crabby."
I snort at the endearing term, but my heart's being cocooned by warmth as his words register. I believe him. He's here with me because he wants to. He's understanding, compassionate and kind when he wants to be and I get this fluffy, cushiony, and giddy feeling every time I'm with him.
That thread I was talking about this morning? It's snapped. There's no turning back now, no running away. I'm in the middle of the storm. I'm falling in love with this man. It's irreversible. And I have to ride this wave.
"Okay then, Mr America." I sweep my arms over his shoulders, glancing at the scoreboard for a second before focusing on him. "We'll tell them together?"
"Absolutely."
~~~
a/n:
Nah, not me blushing over the first part of this chapter... 🙈🍅🙈