Starting Over (Second Time Lucky Book 1)

by Kat Catesby

  “More…please, MORE,” she whimpers, her hips driving up to meet mine.

  I oblige and fuck her like a man possessed, which, you know, I am. But I don’t think I can physically go any harder, faster, or deeper; she’s taking the furious onslaught and is dripping all over the floor. I don’t think I can control myself for much longer; I can feel cum boiling in my balls, tingling and fighting for release but just as I’m about to permit myself to explode, Kelsey falls silent. Her body tenses in my arms and I know that she’s going to come again and I won’t lie, I’m feeling pretty smug at the notion I’m about to give her a third orgasm.

  The silence lasts a few more seconds, her body coiled so tightly, her breathing paused until one final thrust is her undoing…and mine.

  Kelsey screams at the top of her lungs, her whole body shaking beneath me as my body weight keeps her pinned in place, my cock driving deep into her quaking cunt as my damn breaks. My muscles coil then snap, electricity rips up my spine, and burning hot cum shoots down my shaft and coats Kelsey deep inside. The orgasm is so powerful that I pump her tight little pussy full until its overflowing and my semen covers my balls and the floor beneath us.

  Once our heart rates settle down, Kelsey looks up at me, a fragment of concern in her chocolate eyes.

  “I’m not on the pill anymore, Mason. After we split up, I didn’t see the point as I don’t need it to regulate my periods.”

  I’m a little annoyed with myself for not checking whether it was okay for me to blow my load inside her without protection. We’ve always loved the raw sensation of fucking without a condom but I just assumed she was still on the pill.

  “I’m sorry, Baby Girl. I should’ve asked you before I did that.”

  “There’s nothing to be sorry about. That’s what I’m saying. I don’t mind that you did, but I need to check with you to see if you mind?”

  “You’re making sure I’m okay?”

  She nods shyly and nibbles on her bottom lip.

  “You’re asking whether I mind coming inside you without protection and running the risk of getting you pregnant?”

  “I guess so,” she says quietly.

  “Baby Girl, it’s not likely that I can get you pregnant, so please don’t get your hopes up too far. So no, I don’t mind making love to you without protection.”

  “But what if you do manage to get me pregnant?”

  “Are you trying to say you’re okay with that outcome?”

  “I love you and if fate knocks us up, I’d consider us to be very fucking lucky. It’s not ideal timing with us only just being back together, but then I don’t think many couples get a say over the timing of kids. I’m happy to see what does or doesn’t happen.”

  “Then I am too. I love you, Kelsey.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Kelsey

  My body aches the next morning and my pussy burns in the most delicious way…but the bed is empty.

  I am alone and for a moment, I’m a little sad. It’s our first full day together without work or any other interference and I wanted to wake up with Mason, wrapped in his embrace and ready for round two…or five (I lost count after the first few orgasms).

  My sullen cloud evaporates as quickly as it appears though when I hear the sound of a pan clanging on the stove and the smell of pancakes fills the air.

  The man is making me breakfast.

  I grab one of his shirts from the closet and fasten a couple of buttons. Not many; enough to keep it closed and conceal my assets…just about.

  I remember how much Mason loved seeing me naked and wearing one of his shirts and I am hungry for more than just breakfast.

  I stroll into the kitchen, full bed-head hair, his shirt level with the very tops of my thighs, and skimming the bottom curve of my butt. As I move, the shirt slips off my right shoulder and is only miraculously held up by the wishes of unicorns and some perky, erect nipples.

  Mason has his shirtless back to me, his muscles flexing with his movements as he cooks. My gaze travels up and down his body, taking in and loving the fact that he is only wearing a pair of black boxer briefs, which hug his tight ass snugly. I know that when he turns around, his package is going to look just as delectable.

  I think about the best way to get his attention when I step on a creaky floorboard, alerting him to my presence.

  “Morning, Baby Girl,” he says, turns to face me, and drops the rubber spatula in his hand.

  I swear his expression is almost cartoonish with his eyes nearly bulging out of his head at the sight of my barely concealed body.

  But he doesn’t give me a moment to laugh; he glances over his shoulder to turn off the stove and takes two large strides in my direction before ensnaring me in his large, capable arms and claims my mouth in a ravishing kiss.

  The man kisses like the devil; all sex and pure sin.

  And in seconds my body is melting against his, my knees barely holding me up as every synapse misfires.

  Mason trails his hands down either side of my waist, circling around to cup the sensitive little juncture between my ass and thighs that always tickles me and lifts. He pulls me clear off my feet, my legs instinctively wrapping around his hips, enjoying the pressure of his clothed erection against my naked pussy as he places me on the kitchen counter.

  Our hands continue to travel across each other’s bodies, grasping and clawing with the need to be as close as possible. Mason cups my breasts firmly, pinching the sensitive little peaks of my nipples through his shirt. He trails his fingers delicately between my cleavage and then savagely grabs the fabric and pulls.

  The few buttons I had done up ping off and scatter across the kitchen counter and onto the floor, making me giggle at his caveman antics. Mason just destroyed a decently pricey shirt (I didn’t put on one of his cheaper ones because I love the feel of the super-soft cotton against my nipples).

  But something tells me he doesn’t care.

  Mason pushes the material off my shoulders and partway down my arms, effectively locking them in place, exposing me to him. His amber eyes flare with fire and need and he lowers his head, sucking my engorged left nipple into his hot mouth, where he drags it between the sharp blades of his teeth. He applies the perfect amount of bite, the pressure sending pulsing sparks of electricity straight to my clit.

  I groan loudly, savoring the exquisite feeling of his tongue lapping against the pebbled peak he just punished before he lets it slip from his mouth with a wet pop and moves onto my other breast. He pays it the same level of perfect attention and I can feel how wet he’s making my pussy; the heat and need spreading out from my core like wildfire.

  This is exactly what I wanted from our morning. Hell, it’s what I want for the next four days; order out for every meal and only stop fucking when the food is delivered.

  Mason trails two fingers down the center of my torso causing me to shiver under the feather-light touch. He doesn’t tease me by detouring around my clit or bypassing my pussy; he sinks those thick digits between my folds to test my readiness for him. Mason growls his approval deep in his throat. It’s guttural and sensual at the same time, a heady combination that makes me rock against his hand, wanting – no, needing – more.

  Mason doesn’t disappoint and sinks his fingers deep inside me. I love how he stretches me with just his fingers, but he doesn’t keep them there long.

  “So wet and ready for me, Baby Girl. You must want it pretty bad?”

  “You have no idea,” I moan as he withdraws his fingers and releases his cock from the confines of his boxers.

  “I think I might,” he says devilishly.

  I glance down and take in his thick, veiny shaft with its perfect bulbous head; bright red and beading with pre-come. Mason’s cock is a thing of beauty and the way it’s straining and throbbing tells me he wants this as badly as I do.

  Mason teases his fingers through my dripping folds and massages my wetness along his impressive length and in one swift movement, impales me on his dic
k right there on the kitchen counter.

  The size and thickness of him match perfectly with every magical spot hiding deep inside my pussy. My body always shakes with pleasure from just the feeling of having him inside me…I damn near lose my mind when he actually moves and fucks me.

  It’s the same. Every. Single. Time.

  Mason once filmed his cock thrusting in and out of me and watching how he stretched me, how my tight little pussy lips gripped his girth as he pounded me senseless, was the single hottest, filthiest thing I’ve ever seen. If he deleted that recording, I propose we make another.

  With my arms still pinned by my sides thanks to the shirt, I’m helpless to the onslaught of his relentless hips bucking deeply into my needy core. Every time he bottoms out, I see stars.

  Mason’s mouth claims mine once more and his arms snake around me; one arm holding my hips firmly in place and the other wrapping around my back so that his large hand cups the back of my neck and head, keeping me locked against him so that I can’t squirm away from the intensity of the pleasure.

  …That’s when I know I’m really in trouble…and I love it; Mason only locks my body to his like this when he’s about to go full savage.

  There’s nothing better.

  I love being held this tightly and the sensation of his thick cock jack-hammering into me has me screaming and coming within minutes. My whole body shakes and quivers, and I can hear the wetness dripping from me as Mason’s skin slaps against mine.

  It’s lewd, and I can’t get enough.

  Moments later, Mason thrusts so deeply I can feel him against my cervix; he holds himself there as his cock jerks and he shoots jet after jet of thick, hot cum inside me. He fills my pussy to the brim until he’s also dripping out of me onto the countertop.

  I gasp in air and giggle into the crook of his neck as he holds me to him in the glorious post-orgasmic aftermath. I bask in the feel of him surrounding me as my pulse begins to regulate and my breathing calms.

  …Until the shrill pitch of my phone alerts me to an incoming FaceTime call.

  “Leave it, Sweetheart,” his deep voice murmurs against the shell of my ear.

  I sigh and curse the universe. “I can’t, it’s my parents.”

  “Psychic?”

  “Only two people FaceTime me; Lucy and my parents,” I say as I hop down from the counter, button up the shirt with one of the few remaining buttons, and try to make myself look less like I was just fucked senseless. “Lucy isn’t annoying enough to try and do it first thing in the morning. She knows I’m not a morning person. My parents don’t care about that and call whenever they feel like it, and as I haven’t spoken to them in a few weeks, I should probably answer.”

  Mason darts off to the bathroom while I follow the sound of my phone until I find it under a sofa pillow. Grabbing my phone, I look up to see Mason approach me with a damp towel that he tenderly wipes between my legs, clearing away the mess of our lovemaking and sending a very pleasant shiver through my clit.

  He smirks a little lop-sided smile at me while I recompose myself and swipe the screen to answer.

  The image of my parents, Jerry and Eleanor Harper materializes on screen. It’s sunny wherever they are and they look tan and relaxed…they also look unimpressed.

  You know…the look. The one parents get when they aren’t outright pissed off at you but you’ve done something that displeases them.

  I just wait; there’s no point even saying hi – mom will launch into whatever she wants to say regardless, so I just smile.

  A second ticks by and then, predictably, she gets straight to the point.

  “So, we sent you a package,” she starts sweetly.

  Ah, so that’s what this is about.

  “A beautiful gift that we sent via special delivery to ensure it reached you safely. We’ve just had a notification that the package was undeliverable because the ‘recipient no longer lives at that address’,” she makes wild air quotes with her fingers. “You care to tell us where it is you live now and why you moved in the first place without discussing it with us first?”

  I avoid the urge to roll my eyes, saddened at how much distance I feel has crept into our relationship. I understand they want to see the world while they still can but you can’t be part-time parents and only show an interest when it suits.

  “Firstly, I’m a grown woman and I don’t need your permission to move house. Sure, I don’t mind discussing my life events with you, but it’s not like I can do that when neither of you is here. You’ve been too busy traveling and the events of my life deserve more than just an email or a short conversation when I can be accommodated by your busy schedule. I don’t know how to talk to people who’ve barely been here or shown a genuine interest in my life. Just because you’re my parents doesn’t mean I’m obligated to share my life with you. If you want that sort of relationship with your child, you have to invest in it.”

  I realize too late that I’ve just unleased eighteen months-worth of pent-up parental frustration and the shocked looks on their faces tell me they weren’t expecting me to feel this way. I glance towards the kitchen where Mason is stood quietly listening and mouths “are you okay?”. His concern makes me want to cry.

  I’m starting to wish I took his advice and ignored the call.

  “That’s how you feel?” my dad asks, the lump in his throat audible.

  I’m their only child so it has to be hard on them to hear me be so pissed off with them, but they’re my only parents and I’ve not felt their presence, love, or safety for a while…and it hurts.

  “Yes. You guys haven’t been here. I’ve been alone and I’ve had a lot to deal with. It started that I didn’t want to burden you or make you worry while you were enjoying your travels, but over time you stopped asking how I was in more than a passing way. Because I didn’t tell you anything bad, you assumed that everything was good. You stopped looking and participating. You’re just people who check in once in a while. Like a distant cousin I haven’t seen for years. I’m sorry that that will hurt you, but being an only child with no parents around hurts too.”

  “Kelsey,” my mum says quietly, sounding more than a little heartbroken.

  The last thing I want to do is make them sad while they are enjoying their retirement, but it’s not so much a holiday now as a way of life. They’ve been traveling for so long that it’s become their normal.

  “I haven’t seen you in person for so long that I’ve almost stopped missing you now.”

  “We get the point,” my dad says.

  “I’m not sure you do though. It’s not wrong to focus on your marriage and experience the world, but you had a child and you don’t just stop being parents because I’m an adult and you’re away. And then you expect me to be the dutiful daughter and fill you in on all the details of my life why? Just because? That’s not a good enough reason. You want to be my parents, then be my parents. I want to miss you; I want you guys in my life.”

  “I wish you’d said something sooner, Kelsey. We’d have planned more breaks between trips, been home more in between. But you let us believe that everything was okay. And moving house isn’t just a little detail of your life, it’s a fairly important event.”

  They have a point there.

  “How was I supposed to tell you? You’re both so excited to be traveling the world; I don’t want to ruin that. I’m just saying that you can’t expect our relationship to be the same as it was before when you’re not here. I shouldn’t need to tell you that for you to realize it. And I was going to tell you I moved when you next called.”

  Sadness sits heavily in my father’s eyes and my mom’s chin starts its tell-tale quiver, announcing that tears aren’t far behind.

  I love my parents, I do. I’ve just struggled with the distance and the void in my life their absence has created. Coupled with the ups and downs of my relationship with Mason and it was a bad time for them to leave. But they weren’t aware of that. I should have been brave enough to sp
eak up sooner instead of leaving it until I was so frustrated I dumped it on them in the daughter equivalent of an H-bomb.

  In the spirit of mending bridges, because I can see they don’t know what to say or how to make it right from wherever it is in the world they are currently sunning themselves, I answer my mom’s original question.

  “I’m living in L.A., mom. With Mason Fox.”

  In unison, their faces contort with confusion and they both speak at the same time.

  “L.A?” dad asks.

  “The fire chief?” mum squeaks.

  “Yes, to both questions.”

  “But he’s so much older,” this was the last thing I expected my dad to say.

  I glance at Mason, who’s trying hard to keep a neutral expression. I, on the other hand, am not trying. My eyebrows shoot to my hairline and I give him the ‘you went there’ stare.

  “And he’s married,” mom interjects.

  “Do you want to hear the story or are you going to keep throwing stupid statements at me?”

  They acknowledge me by going silent and waiting for me to begin.

  “I’m not a homewrecker so you can go ahead and assume that in the time you’ve been away, Helen and Mason Fox separated. I then began a relationship with Mason which didn’t end so well because we were hounded by Helen, who also made repeated comments about the age gap. I’m not a young twenty-six, dad, and Mason isn’t an old forty-year-old; it’s a meeting of minds and emotions and we are on the same wavelength. Age isn’t a factor for us, so it shouldn’t be for you.”

  “I’m sorry, Sweetie, you’re right. As long as you are safe and happy, that’s all we care about. I remember Mason to be an amiable and capable man, and not that I get a say in your partner, but those are attributes a father looks for in a potential son-in-law.”

  I smile but inwardly wince; I’ve always admired how readily my parents will admit when they are wrong and learn from their mistakes, so it’s good to hear my dad acknowledge that age isn’t an issue. Just a shame he threw in the son-in-law comment before Mason is officially divorced. I know that marriage is hopefully on the cards but he should probably officially end one before we start talking about another.