Chapter 13 Only One #2
“That didn’t take much,” Mason says, chuckling. “Did that feel nice, puppy?”
“Mm-hmm,” I say dreamily. Felt so nice. Everything I do with him feels like surrender, and in the thick of it, my body is helpless to resist, revealing my desire with every whimper and silent plea for more.
I melt into a boneless puddle for a while, and time itself feels fuzzy. Mason’s finger is gone, and instead, he strokes my lower back in a kind of massage, helping me come down and working me back up at the same time.
“Want your treat now?” He frames my ass in his hands again, and even though I just came, it feels really good.
I feel insatiable. Whining, I arch my back, pushing my ass into his touch.
“Or do you want me to keep touching you?” He sounds smug as he circles my hole again, pressing his finger back inside.
I nod and rock back and forth, chasing the pleasure.
“I bet you’ll get hard again in no time,” Mason says. “I bet you can come again and again.”
He keeps teasing me with one finger, sliding it in and out, putting pressure on my prostate.
I feel swollen there, oversensitive, but paired with the kneading, the praise, and Mason’s intoxicating presence, my cock hardens once more.
I rock back and forth, frustrated. One finger isn’t enough. I want to be filled.
“Something wrong?” Mason asks with that infuriating smirk in his voice.
So he wants me to say it. To beg for it.
But there’s no way I’ll give him that satisfaction.
He’s already made me cross so many lines, broken so many rules.
And yet… His finger feels so good as it slides in and out of me, twisting, turning, getting me all loose and pliant, making my cock dribble precum onto the sheets, joining the already drying mess from my previous release.
Mason chuckles low in his throat. “You want one more?”
There’s the question. I refuse to say it, but fuck, I do.
“I know you want more, but you’re only getting one tonight, puppy. We have to work up to it, remember?”
I clench my fists in the sheets. If I can’t have his fingers, then…
“Treat,” I whisper, and I don’t know what’s worse: begging for his fingers or begging to suck his cock.
Mason exhales a thick, heavy breath—a surprised one, as if he didn’t expect me to use his frankly ridiculous word for it. But he recovers quickly.
“You want your treat, do you? Come here, then.”
He slips his finger out of me and lets the pressure off my thighs.
I get on my hands and knees, and when I turn around, I’m faced with his erection at eye level.
Without hesitation, I suck the head of his cock into my mouth, and Mason inhales a sharp breath.
There’s a thud as he leans his elbow on the wall.
He’s a lot quieter than I am, though. A lot more controlled. He slides a hand into my hair, pulling me toward him and making me gag before he lets me back up for air.
“Look at me, puppy.”
I gaze up at him, eyes wet and mouth full. I try to push myself, to pleasure him further, and little glug sounds bubble up from my throat as I choke. His expression shifts the longer he stares at me—eyebrows turning up, mouth falling open.
“Fuck,” he growls. “Come here.” He grips a fistful of my hair, tilting my head up as his cock pops out of my mouth. He jerks himself quickly, his hand a blur in front of my eyes. “Stick your tongue out.”
I open my mouth wide, tongue out, eager to receive his load. Moments later, the shiny head of his cock spurts with cum, and I moan as some of it lands on my tongue, some on my cheeks, and the rest on my chin.
Mason keeps his eyes on me as he drags his finger across my face and pushes the stray drops of cum into my mouth.
I suck on his finger, lapping up the salty taste.
He chuckles, a little breathless. I don’t think I’ve ever seen as many shifting emotions on his face.
Pleasure, awe, and something that strangely looks like… affection.
I shake my head at that last thing. It can’t be. Just my imagination.
“You always want more, don’t you?” he says, the answer to his question so obvious I don’t need to voice it.
I sit up straight, hands folded in my lap, ready to do whatever he asks of me. I’m not begging, but I’m obedient. Desperate and hard.
“Turn around.”
I put my back to him, unsure of what he’s getting at. He scoots closer, pressing himself up against my back, and he wraps himself around me—one arm around my middle, and his hand around my cock. He starts jerking me off right away, coaxing breathless noises from my mouth.
“That’s it,” he murmurs into my ear. “Nice and snug. Let’s make you feel good, puppy. You always want more, and I’ll give it to you. Whatever you want, you’ll get.”
His hand works over my cock so fast the motion goes blurry.
My orgasm builds at record speed, making my head spin, and when he dips his head down to bite the shell of my ear, I can’t hold back anymore.
My cock dribbles with cum, soaking his hand and the sheets below.
Even though I came not that long ago, the sensation is just as intense as the first time around, making me moan and shudder in his grip.
As soon as it’s over, my knees buckle, and Mason has to keep me upright with his arm around my waist. In that position, he lowers his head to my neck and sucks my skin into his mouth. Wait… too high…
“Lower,” I whine.
“Hm?”
“Lower. Oliver will see.”
“Oh.” He does as I say, dropping his mouth to the space between my neck and shoulder so my shirt can safely cover up the hickey tomorrow.
He sucks hard, to the point of pain, coaxing blood to the surface of my skin. His teeth sink into me, biting an aching mark over the hickey. I breathe through the pain, whining softly. It feels so good.
“There.” He pulls back. “Think this can tide you over until tomorrow night?”
Tide me over… Words are hard. Their meaning is lost on me, but I nod regardless, eyes half-lidded, and Mason chuckles as he guides me off his bed and helps me put my clothes back on.
Underwear first. I lift my legs into them one by one, and Mason pulls them up to my waist. My shirt is next.
He tugs it down over my head, smirking at my messy hair.
He flattens it with his palm, and for a split second, it feels like he’s petting me.
Then his hand is gone, and he sends me on my way.
I have my hand on the handle, and I’m just about to turn it when he speaks.
“Hey, um, how old are you, by the way?”
I turn around, a little confused, my brain slow and dreamy after my recent orgasm.
Mason frowns, and he shifts his gaze. “I mean, I know you’re over eighteen. I was just wondering if you’re the same age as Oliver.”
I nod. “I’m nineteen, yeah.”
“But you just got out of high school?”
“Yeah, I repeated a year, like Oliver.”
“Why?”
“My dad worked as a contractor for a while. We moved around a lot, so I missed a bunch of classes.”
“Well, that sucks.”
I shrug. “It’s okay. If I hadn’t repeated a year, Oliver and I wouldn’t be as close as we are.”
“Why?”
I don’t think he’s ever asked me this many questions unrelated to sex before.
I frown a bit, but I answer carefully, “We talked about it a lot. Bonded over it, I guess. Troubled kids and all that.” I give a laugh, a little embarrassed to be sharing so much about myself when we haven’t really had a real conversation—at least not one that wasn’t dripping with sexual undertones.
Mason shrugs, and his expression reverts to his usual controlled self. “Okay. Well. Good night, then, puppy.”
“Good night.”
I close his door behind me, and then I stand still for a while, unable to identify the emotions swirling within me. Maybe I should’ve asked him stuff about his life too, but I can’t help but think he’d shut me down, or at the very least firmly steer the topic toward sex.
Shaking my head, I go to the bathroom to clean up.
I’m too tired to reach any helpful conclusions; I need some sleep.
It was probably a one-off, anyway. It’s not like he wants to get to know me.
And I don’t want to get to know him, because this doesn’t mean anything.
I said so myself; I can’t just backtrack all of a sudden.
And, um, even if I did want more, even if I wanted it to mean something, it’s not like there can ever be anything between us other than sex… right?
I frown as I wipe myself down and return to Oliver’s room, my head spinning with thoughts I never expected to have.
Some of them feel scary, full of unwanted consequences, but some feel warm, like a hug.
Like the way Mason looked at me with that softness in his eyes, just for a few moments.
What if he’d look at me like that again? Would I want him to?
Yeah… Yeah, I think I would.
Even giving myself permission to think about such a thing feels wrong, and yet… It feels good, too, as tends to be the case with Mason and me. Excitement and dread, degradation and praise, and that strange, warm feeling that lingers in my chest all the way into sleep.