She’s beautiful; the way she smells, the way she tastes. That heavy look in her eyes as she watches me.

“Say something,” she pleads, moving her hands over her breasts.

I take a slow lick, my eyes nearly rolling closed in ecstasy. “Mi stai rovinando.”

You’re ruining me.

Her eyes widen ever so slightly. “What does that mean?”

I open my mouth to tell her but she silences me with her fingers against my lips.

“Don’t,” she whispers, slowly removing her hand and bringing it back to her breast. “Don’t tell me. I don’t want to know.”

There it is; that quiet panic lingering, never too far away when she begins to feel something unfamiliar or different. The little protective shield she slides into place until she senses it’s okay and safe to let herself just fucking be with me.

I’ll wait. Stand still or move, I don’t care. I’ll go where she goes.

Keeping my eyes on hers, I lean forward again and press my mouth between her legs.

Brooke drops her head back with a sigh, quietly crying, “oh, God.” Her thighs tense in my hands while she openly gropes her breasts, her fingers twisting and pulling on her nipples.

I stay as unhurried as I can with my tongue, with my lips sucking gently on her clit. Teasing. Slow. Slower. Drawing this out, leisurely building her to the point of madness. I lick up one side and down the other, again and again. Ignoring where she is wettest until I can’t fucking think straight, until I need her coating my mouth more than I need to fucking breathe.

I slide my hand up her stomach and over her ribs to palm her breast, rolling her nipple between my fingers. She gasps and lifts her hips against my mouth, rocking into me, seeking out her release with gentle, pleading circles.

“Put money in,” I instruct.

Her eyes flash open, dark and cautious, but only for a second. Hurriedly, she grabs a dollar off the bench and leans over me to insert the bill into the slot. With a shaky breath she falls back and grabs my head, guiding me between her legs where I grin against her, moaning at the feel of her heels on my back.

Click.

“Mason,” she whispers through the shyest, sweetest smile, knowing what all is probably being captured right now by the lens behind me; my head between her legs, her hands sliding up her body, over her bare breasts where she lifts and squeezes them, blissfully unashamed.

I add my fingers, two inside, stretching and fucking her, my teeth toying with her clit. She bucks against my face, hands pulling my hair and roughly scraping along my scalp.

Click.

I can’t stop watching her; the smooth line of her body, her flat stomach quivering every time I dip my tongue inside to fuck her with it. Her perfect breasts, and the rapid heave of them as she slips closer to the edge.

Her whimpers turn into frantic words, begging me for more, for faster, to fuck her with my fingers again. To make her come. To tell her how she tastes and if I like it.

Click.

“So good,” I assure her before adding another finger and twisting my wrist.

“I told you I could live here. Die here. I meant it,” I don’t say, for fear she’ll pull back again, but I think it. I whisper it in my head as our eyes lock.

Hers, heavy-lidded and pleading for release.

Mine, so willing to give her this and anything. Everything.

I suck and suck on her skin. Her hands fall away from her body, slapping against the bench, and with a startled cry she falls, sweet and warm and perfectly. Lips parting with a gasp and a beg, one last word.

“Please.”

Click.

Her fingers thread through my hair, pacing me while I go on and roughly devour her. I can’t help it. Oral sex has never felt this intimate with a woman before, this profoundly carnal and I don’t want to let up. I don’t want to pull away and risk Brooke regretting any second of this. The haze of desire lifting and revealing how personal this moment was for her, allowing regrets and bloody protective shields to slip in and taint it.

“Mason,” Brooke whispers, touching my forehead with two fingers.

With a heavy blink, I press one last kiss between her legs, then lean back enough to rest my head on her thigh.

I ready myself for it, the pull away, but the eyes I meet are tender and content.

She smiles lazily. “Holy shit. That was so much fun.”

I suck in a burst of air, trapping it in my throat.

Goddamn. This one is full of surprises.

Tilting her head, Brooke laughs a little; a light, sweet sound.

“You are so fucking pretty.” I reach up and touch her cheek, running the back of my fingers over her flush.

“I thought I was beautiful,” she says, smirking.

“You are. There’s no denying that.” I kiss her thigh once more before standing and helping her to her feet, my hands smoothing down her skirt. I cup her face and bend to kiss her. “But after you come, you’re softer, Brooke. Sweeter even. I can’t explain it well, but I think you’re more pretty in those moments. I like seeing you like that with me.”

She turns and grabs her shirt and bra. “Make me come more often and you’ll see it all the time.”

A laugh rumbles in my chest as I help her, insisting on clasping her bra.

“These gorgeous fucking tits needs to be well secured. Here. Let me. I’m better suited for the job.”

She giggles against my neck, moving her hands over my waist and under my shirt. “Taken a good number of bras off, have you?”

“Don’t you worry about that.”

I look around the booth as she slips her shirt on, tucking the photos she took for me into my pocket and glancing behind her to check the bench. “Where are your undies?”

Her eyes widen with amusement. She smiles. “What undies?”

I feel my mouth fall open. The little minx. “You mean to tell me you were naked under that bloody skirt all night and didn’t tell me?”

Laughing, she draws the curtain back and steps out of the booth, retrieving the photos.

“Maybe.”

I scratch my jaw, moving to her. “Fucking hell, Brooke. Had I have known, I wouldn’t have shown that much restraint at the table. I probably would’ve gotten you off before our entrees were brought out. Why didn’t you tell me?”

I nearly curse for keeping my wits about myself earlier on the drive to the restaurant. She was trying to show me she wasn’t wearing anything underneath, hiking up her skirt like that, seeking my hand. I was too determined to keep her waiting and wanting.

Good on you, mate. Really fucked yourself with that one.

I touch her hip. She doesn’t respond, not with a look or a word. With parted lips she studies the photos in her hand for several silent seconds. I can feel the slow drag of air pulling into her lungs and I slide my hand up her back. She releases it quickly and bites her lip.

“Look at you,” I say against her temple, bending lower to see. I point at the shot of her coming. “Fucking perfect right there. Did you like it?”

She hesitates, then quietly replies. “Yes. I just . . . I wasn’t expecting to look like that.”

“Like what?” I can’t read her face, the implication she’s making. I step in front of her and run my hands down her arms, ducking to see her eyes.

She keeps them lowered for another few seconds, studying. With a flighty laugh, she brings the photo down between us and gazes up at me. “I don’t know. Pretty, I guess? You were right. I do look different.” She shakes her head, blinking several times, as if she can’t believe what she’s saying, or admitting. “It’s strange.”