HANDS ON
by Meg Harris
© copyright 2010, Meg Harris
Cover design by Meg Harris, © copyright 2010
All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. Names,
character, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination
or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or
persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Chapter 1
No
way .
Lora Parrish had just stuck her
head over the railing to see what her friend Mason Kendall was up to in his
attic office, but now she ducked down and stared at the wall. He's not doing what I think he's doing.
Is
he?
She cautiously stuck her head up
again, just far enough to get a glimpse, and her cheeks heated, along with the
rest of her. Yes, Mason was definitely doing what she'd thought he was doing.
She and Mason were close enough
that they wandered freely in and out of each other’s houses, which were on the
same street. She'd walked up these stairs many times before, and never caught
Mason doing anything of a, well, personal nature. Even when he was working on
the computer, he’d always heard the sound of her feet thudding gently on the
carpeted staircase. She’d never found it necessary to knock.
But apparently tonight he was a little...
distracted, and he hadn't heard her coming. Probably because he was about to
come himself.
She tried to look away, but
couldn't, quite. He was holding a photo of something in his left hand and
staring at it, while his other hand... well. She felt
her cheeks heat further, and a fiery moisture gathered between her thighs.
She watched the slow, steady motion
of his big, strong hand, the way it moved up and down over the front of his
jeans, and she couldn't help but think of that hand on her body. And the truth
was , that wasn't a new thought. Not at all. It was a
fantasy that had been at the forefront of her mind since the day she'd met
Mason last year.
For a while—a short while-- her
fantasies had been relatively G-rated. She'd imagined his hands stroking her
hair, dropping onto her shoulder, or touching her cheek. But before long, her
mind had drifted into the gutter. She still occasionally thought about him
touching her cheek... but she was thinking of a different cheek entirely. Her
fantasies about him had gotten steadily more explicit, more detailed, until
they rivaled porn movies for sheer smuttiness.
In her fantasies, she and Mason had
done everything two people could do together. In her fantasies, she was a bad
girl-- and Mason liked her that way.
Even these past few months, when
she'd drifted into dating a sweet, geeky co-worker named Theodore Matthews, the
face she saw before she fell asleep was Mason's. And when she couldn't fall
asleep, and needed to... relax, it was Mason she thought of.
Not just his face, either. She'd
envisioned every inch of his big, beautiful body a thousand times.
Still staring at the picture, he
gave a soft moan, a shuddering intake of breath, and the heat between her
thighs immediately multiplied a hundredfold. She could feel moisture, thick and
scalding hot, dripping from her body. She'd never felt such an intense physical
need in her life.
Unable to stop herself, she moved
her hand between her thighs, pressing her fingers against her denim shorts, and
began to rub, slowly and deliberately.
She wondered vaguely what he was
looking at while he jerked off. Probably some random woman from a centerfold.
She figured Mason liked bare skin and airbrushed big breasts just as well as
the next guy.
But it looked like a photo, so it
was probably a picture of his ex-wife, Ashley. That idea didn't really thrill
her. Not that she was jealous, exactly, but Mason and Ashley were yesterday's
news. She was perfectly aware that Mason had loved Ashley pretty much forever--
but Ashley had remarried, and was pregnant with another man’s child, and Mason
seriously needed to let go of his ex.
by Meg Harris
© copyright 2010, Meg Harris
Cover design by Meg Harris, © copyright 2010
All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. Names,
character, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination
or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or
persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Chapter 1
No
way .
Lora Parrish had just stuck her
head over the railing to see what her friend Mason Kendall was up to in his
attic office, but now she ducked down and stared at the wall. He's not doing what I think he's doing.
Is
he?
She cautiously stuck her head up
again, just far enough to get a glimpse, and her cheeks heated, along with the
rest of her. Yes, Mason was definitely doing what she'd thought he was doing.
She and Mason were close enough
that they wandered freely in and out of each other’s houses, which were on the
same street. She'd walked up these stairs many times before, and never caught
Mason doing anything of a, well, personal nature. Even when he was working on
the computer, he’d always heard the sound of her feet thudding gently on the
carpeted staircase. She’d never found it necessary to knock.
But apparently tonight he was a little...
distracted, and he hadn't heard her coming. Probably because he was about to
come himself.
She tried to look away, but
couldn't, quite. He was holding a photo of something in his left hand and
staring at it, while his other hand... well. She felt
her cheeks heat further, and a fiery moisture gathered between her thighs.
She watched the slow, steady motion
of his big, strong hand, the way it moved up and down over the front of his
jeans, and she couldn't help but think of that hand on her body. And the truth
was , that wasn't a new thought. Not at all. It was a
fantasy that had been at the forefront of her mind since the day she'd met
Mason last year.
For a while—a short while-- her
fantasies had been relatively G-rated. She'd imagined his hands stroking her
hair, dropping onto her shoulder, or touching her cheek. But before long, her
mind had drifted into the gutter. She still occasionally thought about him
touching her cheek... but she was thinking of a different cheek entirely. Her
fantasies about him had gotten steadily more explicit, more detailed, until
they rivaled porn movies for sheer smuttiness.
In her fantasies, she and Mason had
done everything two people could do together. In her fantasies, she was a bad
girl-- and Mason liked her that way.
Even these past few months, when
she'd drifted into dating a sweet, geeky co-worker named Theodore Matthews, the
face she saw before she fell asleep was Mason's. And when she couldn't fall
asleep, and needed to... relax, it was Mason she thought of.
Not just his face, either. She'd
envisioned every inch of his big, beautiful body a thousand times.
Still staring at the picture, he
gave a soft moan, a shuddering intake of breath, and the heat between her
thighs immediately multiplied a hundredfold. She could feel moisture, thick and
scalding hot, dripping from her body. She'd never felt such an intense physical
need in her life.
Unable to stop herself, she moved
her hand between her thighs, pressing her fingers against her denim shorts, and
began to rub, slowly and deliberately.
She wondered vaguely what he was
looking at while he jerked off. Probably some random woman from a centerfold.
She figured Mason liked bare skin and airbrushed big breasts just as well as
the next guy.
But it looked like a photo, so it
was probably a picture of his ex-wife, Ashley. That idea didn't really thrill
her. Not that she was jealous, exactly, but Mason and Ashley were yesterday's
news. She was perfectly aware that Mason had loved Ashley pretty much forever--
but Ashley had remarried, and was pregnant with another man’s child, and Mason
seriously needed to let go of his ex.
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