Hands On

  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. Lora knew that it was time for him to move on, but she didn't think he'd quite managed it yet.

  Poor guy. She could totally relate.

  Her nipples stiffened, hardening so that they rubbed against the lace of her bra, and she absently reached up with her other hand and touched them, too. Her hand moved faster against the crotch of her denim shorts. She wished she could take them off, because the seam was kind of in the way, but she'd be embarrassed enough if Mason happened to notice her presence-- and he just might, because she was starting to pant. If Mason found her standing here half naked, that would just be humiliating beyond belief. Lora wasn't fond of humiliation.

  Another groan slid from between Mason’s parted lips. His eyes were half-shut, his long legs sprawled out in front of him, his powerful body slouched back against the cushions of his old navy-blue couch, and she could hear the harsh, unsteady sound of his breathing from here. He was obviously totally turned on.

  She wondered why he didn't unzip his jeans, grab himself, and finish in a rush, the way most guys would. Maybe, like her, he was worried about getting caught with his pants down, literally.

  Or maybe he just wasn't in a hurry. Maybe he liked to go slow.

  If so, he was a man after her own heart.

  She was a hard time keeping it slow right now, though, because the burning between her legs just kept getting hotter and hotter, until she thought she might just catch on fire. She moved her hand a little harder, a little faster, and bit her lip to hold back a moan.

  He arched his head back against the cushions, and she stared at the tendons in his neck, the faint shadow of dark stubble along his jawline and throat. She wanted to walk across to him and kiss his exposed throat. She wanted to rip off his shirt and put her hands and mouth all over him.

  She reminded herself firmly that he was masturbating to a picture of someone else, quite likely his ex-wife. It would be humiliating enough if he caught her standing here touching herself. But throwing herself at Mason when he was jerking off to a picture of someone else would be the ultimate in humiliation.

  She'd done her best to back off from Mason a while ago, because it had become evident that he was never going to let Ashley go. They’d been married for seven years, and had dated since high school, and Lora knew deep down that she could never compete with a history like that.

  But it was okay, because her body was stupid, but she wasn't. She couldn't seem to get over him physically, but she was completely over him, emotionally.

  Really. She was. Totally.

  His eyes drifted shut, and she admired the long, dark lashes, staring in a way she could never let herself stare when he was aware of her presence. No other man on Earth had ridiculously long eyelashes like that. She was willing to bet on it.

  She watched his hand move a little faster, watched his hips rising to meet the movements of his hand. His forehead was beginning to glint with beads of sweat, and she wondered if he was sweating everywhere. She thought of his chest, sleek and smooth and gleaming with a fine sheen of perspiration, and the image was almost enough to make her come, all on its own.

  His eyelashes fluttered, as if they were very heavy, as if he had to force them open. He looked at the picture he held, his other hand moving faster and faster.

  "Lora," he murmured.

  Taken utterly by surprise, Lora gave a startled gasp, and his head suddenly jerked up. He stared at her, his dark eyes wide with shock and embarrassment. She stared back, feeling just as embarrassed. At least he couldn't see the location of her hand from here, and didn't know that she'd been just as, well, busy as he'd been.

  She couldn't speak, couldn't even manage to open her mouth. Confusion and shock and bewilderment all buzzed together in her brain.

  Oh, my God, she thought wildly. It's me. That's a photo of me.

  Chapter 2

  Lora had never seen Mason so red. His face was the color of a prize-winning tomato. Even his ears were crimson. She had a feeling she
was blushing just as hard. She wasn't sure what was worse, getting caught jerking off... or getting caught watching someone jerk off.

  "Uh," he said. "Uh, I didn't hear you..."

  Snark came to her rescue, as it often did at embarrassing moments. "That's obvious," she said, walking up the rest of the steps and heading toward him. Thank God a woman's arousal didn't show like a guy's did. He had a lot more to be embarrassed about than she did.

  At the thought, she glanced down at his jeans. There was still an enormous bulge there, straining the worn fabric. That had to be seriously uncomfortable.

  "Uh," he said again. "I guess, uh..."

  She reached down and snagged the picture right out of his hand. "Well," she said softly, somehow surprised even though she'd heard him saying her name in that low, sexy voice. "It is me."

  It was a photograph of her dressed a lot like she was now, wearing an old William and Mary t-shirt and a pair of shorts. Not a terribly sexy photo. In fact she was pretty much swallowed up by the oversized t-shirt, so her curves weren't even visible. It was about as far from a centerfold picture as you could get. True, there was a happy smile on her face, but she was pretty sure guys didn't get off on happy smiles.

  She glanced down at Mason's bulge again and realized maybe she didn't know everything there was to know about guys. Or at least Mason.

  "Why me?" she asked softly.

  He reached out and snatched the picture away, putting it down carefully on the end table. His embarrassment seemed to be fading, and he looked defensive. Almost annoyed.

  "Why not you?"

  "I didn't think you... I mean, we're friends."

  "Just because we're friends doesn't mean I'm blind, Lora."

  Maybe he wasn't blind, but she must be. Because she'd had the hots for Mason for a year now, but it had never occurred to her that he might feel the same way about her.

  And hots was all it was, she was sure. She understood that what he felt for her was lust. Not romantic love, or anything along those lines. But that was okay, because that was pretty much what she felt for him, too. She had a boyfriend, and she didn't have any lingering feelings for Mason... beyond those pesky thoughts of running her hands all over his body, anyway.

  God, she wanted to touch him.

  The image of her hand moving over him grew too vivid to fight against, and she lowered her hand to his shoulder. Through his t-shirt, she could feel solid muscle layered over his collarbone. He jumped, and she felt a shudder pass through him.

  "Lora. Uh. I think maybe you'd better..."

  "Take it easy, Mason." She ran her hand down over his chest. "I'm harmless." He lifted an eyebrow, looking dubious, and she grinned.

  "Well... mostly harmless."

  Even through the burgundy fabric of a Redskins t-shirt, he felt as hard as she'd expected, bone and muscle and sinews all wrapped up together in one very sexy package. He felt hot to the touch, and another shiver racked him as her hand moved down his abdomen.

  "Lora..."

  Never one for subtlety, she caught the hem of his shirt and tugged at it. "Let me see what's underneath, Mason."

  "Uh." He grabbed at his shirt. "I don't think that's a good idea, Lora."

  Apparently he was a little nervous about blurring the line between fantasy and reality, and she didn't blame him. It was scary to step over that line. She had a feeling she was going to have to give him a shove. "What were you thinking about just now?" she asked softly.

  He glanced up, just for a second, then lowered his eyelashes. "You."

  "Obviously." She lifted her hand to his ebony hair and stroked it gently. "But what specifically? I find it hard to believe the sight of me in a t-shirt turns you on that much."

  She heard a low, wry chuckle. "I was thinking about the lake, actually."

  She thought about that for a moment. "You mean the picnic we had out there a month ago?"

  He nodded.

  She thought about that day. It had been pretty much their last fun of the summer. They'd driven out to the local park, tossed around a Frisbee, and splashed in the chilly water of the lake. It had been a fun afternoon—a lot more fun than she’d ever had with Theodore, if she was going to be honest about it-- but she couldn't think of anything particularly sexy about it.

  "What about it?"

  "You were smiling just like that the whole time," he said softly, nodding toward the picture. "And after we went swimming, you came out of the water in that bikini, and you, uh..."

  She remembered being pretty damn cold, because the breeze had picked up, and a light dawned in her mind. Typical guy. "My nipples were standing out."

  "Yeah, that’s what I was thinking about." His head was still downbent, but she could see his ears turning red again, barely visible beneath the thick waves of his dark hair. "Until that day, I never really noticed you—I mean, I never noticed you that way-- but ever since then…"

  She tried not to smile at his clear embarrassment, but didn’t entirely succeed. "Are you telling me you never noticed I was female until you saw my nipples standing up in the cold?"

  “I, uh, wouldn’t go that far.” He carefully avoided her eyes. “I knew you were female. I mean, you’re gorgeous, Lora, and I’m not blind. I just never thought of you like… well, you know.” His ears turned redder. “I mean, I was still kind of focused on Ashley at that point. But since then, I just haven’t been able to stop thinking about…”

  She couldn’t decide whether to be flattered or annoyed. She decided that it was nice that he’d noticed her, for whatever reason. Even if it was an annoyingly superficial, male reason.

  "It’s okay," she said, fighting back her smile at his chagrined look. "Whatever turns you on. But I have to be honest, Mason. I’m really not sure I want to get involved with you when you’re still so into your ex.”

  “You want to know the truth?” He peered up at her from beneath his dark fringe of hair. “I’ve hardly thought about Ashley since that day. I mean, yeah, we were married a long time, and we have a lot of history together. But I haven’t thought of her like that since then.” He dropped his gaze, looking embarrassed, and his voice fell almost to a whisper. “I guess I’ve been too busy thinking about you.”

  Warmth flooded her at his muttered confession, and she dropped her hand to his chest and tugged at his shirt again. "Well, okay then, Mason. Let me take off your shirt."

  "Lora. I really don't think..."

  "Let me take it off," she said softly, persuasively, "and I'll let you take mine off. It's a little chilly in here. If you're lucky, I might just get cold again."

  She heard a sharply indrawn breath.

  "Okay," he said.

  She tugged the shirt off and tossed it aside, then looked down at him. Wow. Her fantasies had absolutely nothing on reality. He was built like a pinup, carved muscles standing out under golden skin, and she wondered why on earth she'd tried to keep her hands off him for so long. If she’d been smart she just would have tackled him a year ago, Ashley or no Ashley.

  His big hands reached out and stripped off her pale pink t-shirt. The air was chilly-- it was unusually warm today, which was why she'd worn shorts, but out of the sunshine there was a decided nip to the air. She felt her skin react, felt goosebumps pop up all over—and her nipples hardened. He moaned and reached out like he just couldn't help himself, running his fingers gently over her abdomen.

  Her hands lowered to his shoulders and began stroking the skin there, very softly. He moaned and dropped his head back, closing his eyes.

  She bent over, noticing as she did so that his gaze was drawn to the cleavage displayed by her low-cut bra.

  She smiled, a little amused. All this time she'd been hoping he’d notice that she was female. But if she'd really wanted to catch his attention, all she'd needed to do was get cold.

  Her hands slid down across his chest, and his hands tightened around her waist, digging into her skin gently. She noticed his coppery nipples had tightened, hardening into little peaks, and
her thumbs itched to touch them. But instead she ran her hands around them in circles, teasing him, brushing around his nipples but never quite touching them, and he moaned, dropping his head back. He shivered like he had a fever.

  "Lora." His voice was filled with desperate need. "Touch me there. Please."

  "In a minute. What's your hurry?"

  She spoke lightly, but she knew what his hurry was. A glance down showed his bulging erection straining against his jeans, more obvious than ever. She could actually see the tip of it peeping out from his waistband, dark pink and glistening with moisture, and she seriously wanted to grab it.

  Later, she promised herself.

  Her fingers slid around his nipples, tormenting him, for long moments. His skin began to slicken with sweat beneath her hands, and his muscles grew more and more taut. At last she finally slipped her thumbs over the hard pebbles of his nipples, and he jerked and gasped.

  "Lora."

  "You like that," she said softly.

  "Oh, yeah..." His voice was barely a whisper. "Do it again."

  She did, and he twisted under her hands, rolling his head against the back of the couch and moaning with pleasure. "God." His voice was soft but intense. "Lora, please. I can't wait any longer."

  "So don't wait."

  His eyes flickered open, and he stared at her for a second, as if her words had confused him. Then he dropped his hands to his fly, fumbling in desperate haste, and unzipped his jeans, shoving his boxers out of the way. His cock sprang free. It was enormous, wet with precome, and so swollen that it looked painful. With every brush of her thumbs over his nipples, it throbbed in violent response.

  "Take it in your hand," she said softly. "The first time, I'm just going to watch."

  His ears went red again, but he didn't argue, just wrapped his hand around himself. She noticed that he was huge, so huge that as big as his hand was, his fingers barely met.

  Wow, she thought again. His erection looked like carved marble, except she could see the life pulsing through it with every beat of his heart, and she imagined it would feel hot against her palm. She really wanted to find out how he felt, to touch him herself.