The Sweet Addiction Series Collection: Sweet Addiction, Sweet Possession & Sweet Obsession (83 page)

Mason steps into the room, closing the door behind him.

“Me too,” I murmur.

That should help get things moving in the right direction.

After adjusting the thermostat on the wall, Mason moves to the front of the class. The room goes silent.

“Right. Everyone ready to get started?” he pauses, smiling at everyone’s enthusiasm. “The most important thing to remember in my class is I want you to take your time. Understand that you have the rest of your life to make this perfect, yeah? Yoga is a great way to improve flexibility and strength, but also, it benefits the mind and the spirit. I want you to concentrate on your breathing. Breathe through every pose. You might not get everything today, and that’s all right. I’m here to help you. If you need to step away and get a quick drink, or if you’re feeling like you need a break, take it. It’s going to get very warm in here . . .”

“It already is,” Joey announces, fanning his face. “Any objections if I start stripping?”

A few women giggle. Others make similar comments about the temperature in the room.

“By all means.” Mason reaches behind him, grabs his shirt, and pulls it off with one hand. He tosses it aside. “I hope nobody minds. I normally don’t wear a lot of clothes when I do this.”

“Oh, dear God,” someone behind me murmurs.

I stare at the hard lines of Mason’s body. The thick cuts of muscle in his arms. His broad, lightly-tanned chest.

He wants me to concentrate on breathing
while he looks like this? What is he fucking crazy?

The man has an eight pack. Eight. Pack.

He looks directly at me. “Ready?” he asks, tilting his head with a coy grin.

I nod, a lot. Joey elbows me and I finally get myself under control.

Mason leads the class through a few basic breathing exercises. Thank God. I can’t seem to remember how to properly work my lungs anymore. With the slowly rising temperature in the room, Mason’s glorious body, and the knowledge of my impending orgasm minutes away, it’s a wonder I’m not getting rushed to the hospital by ambulance for lack of oxygen to the brain.

“Now, release the hands and come out onto all fours,” Mason instructs.

“Hello,” Joey whispers. “All fours, yes please. I should’ve dragged Billy to this.”

I lift my head and watch Mason.

“Hands underneath the shoulders. Knees underneath the hips. Inhale, drop the belly, and look upwards.”

Our eyes lock.

“Exhale, push the floor away, and look down at your navel.”

My spine arches. I close my eyes and hold the position.

Mm. This actually feels really good.

“Inhale, look up.”

He smiles. My hand nearly slips out from under me.

“Shit.” I wipe my hand on my pants leg, removing the sweat that’s built up on my palm.

“Stop distracting him. I’m really into this.”

I narrow my eyes at Joey.

“Last time. Exhale, press away.”

I drop my head and slowly breathe out.

The next series of poses doesn’t allow for eye contact, so I’m able to get through those without any difficulty. Sweat beads up on the base on my neck and down my spine. My muscles are loose and warm.

I feel amazing. I’m actually really enjoying this.

Several women have to step outside to get some air while others gulp water from the cooler in the corner. I don’t need a break. I don’t want one either.

Mason instructs everyone to lie on their backs. He moves between the mats, his voice growing closer.

“From here, bend the knees, place the feet on the floor. I want you to lift your hips off the mat. Try and reach for your heels with your fingers.”

He looks down at me as I struggle to grab my heels. With a huff, my back hits the mat.

“Little help?” I smile up at him.

He drops down to his knees beside me. “You’re doing great. Have you done this before?” he asks, grabbing my hips, his fingers pressing into my back.

“Nope. First time. I’m very motivated to please my instructor.”

His mouth twitches in the corner.

“Ready?”

“Oh, hold on. Not yet.” I grab the hem of my shirt and strip it over my head, leaving me in only my hot pink sports bra.

His lips part with a rushed exhale. He looks beautiful, eyes wide and wild.

“There. That’s better. I was burning up in that.”

I watch his neck roll with a swallow, the heavy bob of his Adam’s apple I want to run my tongue over and taste. His hands shake as they move over my skin to resume their grip.

“Devil,” he whispers, leaning down and lifting my hips. “Stay after class.”

Yes.

His hands leave me. I hold the pose as he moves around the room, meeting my gaze every few steps.

Twenty minutes later, I’m practically bouncing on my feet as the class dismisses. I wave to Joey as he slips out the door, then take a moment to fix my disheveled pony.

I shouldn’t bother. It’s about to get a whole lot messier.

Holding my discarded tank, I wait for Mason on my mat as he walks a few stragglers to the door. He closes it and turns the top lock. Taking his shirt, he wipes it across his face, removing the sweat.

“Great class,” I tell him as he walks toward me.

An honest observation. I never thought I’d actually enjoy working out, let alone yoga.

His mouth stretches into a proud smile. “Yeah? I thought it was all right. I was a bit nervous.”

“Why? You made it easy. Nobody seemed to have trouble keeping up.”

“Except you.” He stops in front of me, looking between the shirt in my hand and my face. “Or, was that just a ploy to get me to touch you?”

I shrug. “I don’t think I need a ploy. I think you want to touch me.”

“I do.”

“And here I am. Touch away.”

His eyes, the color of autumn, do this shift from playful to something else, something darker.

Make me come.

My fist tightens on my tank.

All too soon his smoldering gaze is gone, swiftly darting across the room.

“I need to shower. Will you wait? My room is just upstairs. I’ll be quick.”

I stare at his profile, a bit confused.

Shower?

Once again, the ‘why bother’ question fills my head. We’re about to mount each other. I, for one, plan on utilizing every hard surface in this studio. It’s 90 degrees in here, and my entire body is coated in a light sheen of sweat.

Everybody has their routines during sex. Maybe Mason likes to start off freshly washed?

“Yeah, okay. Hurry though.”

He gives me a curt nod and takes to the stairs.

Mm. He lives here. Strangely, that thought hadn’t crossed my mind. Even though Dylan lives above her business, I hadn’t considered Mason having the same situation.

I pad about the studio for two, three minutes, maybe.

Curiosity gets the best of me. Or maybe I’m too horny to wait any longer.

I quietly slip upstairs.

I’ve always loved shower sex.

MASON

Warm water hits the back of my neck as I drop my head between my shoulders.

With a soapy hand, I stroke my dick. My free hand braces my weight on the wet tile.

Brooke. Brooke. Brooke.

What the fuck am I doing?

I could be feeling her tighten around me right now. Roaming my hands over her soft curves. Licking the sweat off her tits while I palm her arse and lower her onto my cock.

Instead, I’m jerking off to thoughts of her like a desperate juvenile.

Fuck, but if I don’t . . .

I’ve been fighting off an erection since I saw her on the footpath. That struggle intensified when I got a view of the back of her, and then she had to go and strip in the middle of my fucking class.

She has me and she knows it.

I pinch my eyes shut.

She is so incredibly beautiful.

Barely any makeup. The glow of her skin from exertion. Her hair, tousled and slick with sweat.

My hand works faster. I rock my hips.

God, I need to come.

I want to talk to Brooke. I want to know her, and I’d really love to do that without my dick being hard and without the overwhelming desire to bury myself balls deep mudding up my thoughts.

When was the last time I couldn’t get through a single conversation with a woman without imagining what she would look like wet and begging beneath me?

I’m not that guy. I sure as hell don’t want to be that guy for Brooke. And I won’t be . . .

I just need to get this ache out of my body.

My thighs tense beneath me. I take a moment to rub my thumb over the head of my dick, mingling the water and precum. I let myself moan. The quick slapping of skin echoes off the walls of my small bathroom.

I remember what she felt like as I held the slender curve of her hips. She was smooth and warm. Sweat pooled in the dip between her collarbones.

“Holy fuck,” I gasp, my hand working furiously now.

If only she knew what I was doing. What I was thinking. How close I was to . . .

“Mm. Need a hand with that?”

My eyes flash open at the sound of a voice at my back. Equal parts wicked and sweet. Stilling my hand, I squeeze the base of my dick and look over my shoulder.

Brooke peers inside the small opening in the shower curtain, smiling, her gaze lingering on my arse.

“Shit.” I wrench the handle and cut off the water.
Fuck . . . fuck! I probably look like such a fucking wanker.
Covering myself as best as I can, I turn to look at her. “Brooke, I . . .”

She slides the shower curtain back.

Good fucking Christ.

My mouth falls open. My breathing quickens. Brooke, now completely naked, stands before me, proudly showing off her insanely sexy body as she leans against the wall. Calculating smirk twisting across those sexy as fuck lips.

I can’t pull my eyes away. I knew she would be a fucking sin to look at, but I had no idea . . .

Her full tits sit high on her chest. A faint blush spreading over them. Her nipples, a dusty pink, hardened and ready for my tongue. The soft flare of her hips. Long, shapely legs. Her bare . . .

My cock jumps against my hand.

She lifts her leg to step inside the small shower with me.

“Whoawhoawhoa.” I shove the curtain open further and reach for two towels. “Here. Fuck, please put this on. I’m . . .” I struggle to speak, to secure my own towel around my waist while holding one out for her. The cotton brushes against my cock and I moan.

I was so fucking close. Why didn’t I lock the door?

She laughs softly, lowering her foot. “Why the hell would I do that? And why are you covering up? Turn the water back on and fuck me.”

I step out of the shower. “I think maybe we should talk a little first.”

“Talk? Yeah, okay. Were you not just jerking off thinking about me?”

“No, I was. I was, I just . . .”

“Then what is there to talk about?”

I give up on wrapping the towel around my waist and hold it against my cock, offering her the other one. “Please, Brooke.”

I need her to cover up. I can’t hold a conversation with this woman with her tits out.

Speaking of tits . . .

She crosses her arms underneath them. They bounce a little and I bite back my moan.

“Do you want me or not?”

“I want you,” I answer quickly.
God, isn’t it obvious?
“Trust me, Brooke, I want you, but maybe we could take this a bit slower, yeah?”

“Slower? Why? I want to fuck you. You clearly want to fuck me, based on your massive erection, which bravo, by the way. He’s beautiful.” She takes the towel from me and drops it on the floor, inching closer. “You came up here to jerk off to thoughts of me. I know you didn’t finish. How close were you?”

“Close.” I step back. My hip hits the sharp edge of the sink.

The wolf circles her prey, ready to attack.

“It would be a shame to stop now, don’t you think? I hear blue balls are a bitch.”

I grab her wrist when she reaches for me. “Brooke.” My voice is much softer now. I sound weak. I
feel
weak. I’m so close to saying fuck it and bending her over the sink.

She stares up at me. Her thick lashes flutter closed before she steps back out of my grip. Anger flares to life in her eyes. “What is your problem? What the fuck is this?”

Damn it. She is pissed, clearly, but the way her gaze avoids mine and scatters about the room, she’s feeling something else too.

Rejection? Does she not see how difficult this is for me?

“If I were to fuck you right now, then what?” I ask, although, I fear I already know the answer to this. She’s moving way too fast to want anything real with me. “What would happen after, Brooke?”

“After?” Her eyes slowly find mine.

“Yeah, after. What would I be to you?”

She breathes a laugh, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. “If you think it’ll be weird for me, you’re wrong. I can handle casual sex. I’ll even wave to you if I see you out. It won’t be awkward.” Her gaze lowers to my towel. “You’re still hard, by the way.”

“I’m aware.”

It’s bloody painful.

She leans back against the wall. Her calculating smirk returns. “Tell me you don’t want to fuck me right now.”