Page 60 of The Lonely Road

Sienna once told me that she knew Daniel was the one for her because with him, sex felt right, always. It felt like coming home, with no shame or discomfort.

I press my chest flush against his, and his hands slide down to grip my hip, squeezing hard enough to make me gasp.

His hardness twitches against my stomach, and I can’t help but rub against him, wet heat already pooling between my thighs.

The friction is delicious. It makes me whimper.

Mason drops kisses on my mouth, sometimes light, sometimes hungry. It’s the most wonderful kind of foreplay.

His tongue slides against my lips. He tastes like sin and temptation, and I moan into the kiss as his fingers unbutton my jeans and cup me.

“Counselor, I have evidence here that you’re aroused.”

I giggle. He’s doing what he’s been doing since he met me. Bringing me joy—the kind that makes me feel loose and happy.

I bite his lower lip, tugging just hard enough to make him gasp with pleasure.

“The evidence is strong, Mr. Brooks. I think you should do something about it.”

His hand fists in my hair, tilting my head back, and his other hand pushes my panties aside, fingers sliding through my slick folds.

“God, Taya!” He circles my clit with slow, torturous strokes.

I arch into his touch, feeling like I’m floating. “That feels so good.”

“Let’s see if we can do better than good.” His fingers are plunging inside me, curling just right to make me see stars.

I writhe, which in itself is a novelty.

My nails dig into his arms as he pumps me with his fingers, his thumb is pressing down on my clit in tight, relentless circles.

“Sweetheart, come for me.”

He’s never called me sweetheart before, and as mundane as the endearment is, it rushes through me like heady wine.

I orgasm.

Before I can even catch my breath, Mason’s spinning me back around, dropping to his knees. “I want to taste.”

His tongue is devastating, licking into me like he’s starving, sucking my clit until I’m panting, my fingers tangled in his hair.

He doesn’t stop, doesn’t let up, making love to me with his tongue until I’m coming again, my legs shaking so hard I nearly collapse.

But he catches me and picks me up, bridal-style. “Bedroom.”

“Down the hall.”

He carries me in and lays me down on the bed. The only light is the one coming through the living room.

He reaches and turns on the bedside lamp.

“I want to see you,” he explains and then begins to undress me.

I let him.

I watch him as he does—as he unwraps me like I’m a gift.

I feel cherished as he kisses each stretch of skin he exposes.