Chapter 5 #2
I end the call and reach for Destiny's hand again. "It's going to be okay," I tell her, though uncertainty gnaws at me. "Tom's sending backup."
"What if they don't get there in time? What if he—” Her voice breaks.
"He won't touch you." The certainty in my voice surprises even me. "I won't let him."
The SUV continues its pursuit, gaining ground as the snow falls heavier. I take another turn, hoping to lose him, but the headlights remain fixed behind us.
"Mason." Destiny's voice is small. "I'm scared."
"I know, baby." The endearment slips out naturally. "But I've got you."
Just as the Escalade closes the gap, sirens wail in the distance. The effect is immediate, the SUV's does a sudden stop, before making a sharp U-turn, disappearing back the way we came.
Destiny sags in relief. "Thank God."
I pull over, waiting for Tom's patrol car to catch up. When it does, he steps out into the snow, approaching my window.
"You okay?" he asks, looking from me to Destiny.
"We're fine," I answer, though my knuckles are white on the steering wheel. "Did you get a plate number?"
Tom shakes his head. "Mud-covered. Intentionally obscured." He leans down to address Destiny directly. "Ma'am, if you want to file a report—”
"No," she interrupts, voice firm despite her obvious fear. "No reports. It would just confirm I'm here."
Tom nods, respecting her decision. "I'll escort you back to Mason's place, then send patrols through the area. This guy makes another appearance, we'll be ready."
"Thank you," she says.
The rest of the drive passes in tense silence, Tom's patrol car a reassuring presence behind us. When we reach the cabin, he insists on checking the perimeter before giving us the all-clear.
"I'll have cars drive by regularly tonight," he promises. "Call if anything seems off."
Once inside, Destiny's composure crumbles. She sinks onto the couch, trembling so violently that her teeth chatter. I wrap a blanket around her shoulders and kneel before her.
"You're safe," I say, taking her cold hands in mine. "He's gone."
"For now." Her eyes, wide with fear, find mine. "But he found me, Mason. He won't stop."
"Then we'll be ready." I move to sit beside her, pulling her against my chest. "I meant what I said. He won't touch you."
She burrows closer. "You can't be with me every minute."
"Watch me." I tilt her chin up, forcing her to meet my gaze. "I'm not leaving your side until this is resolved."
"What about your clients? Your work?"
"I'll reschedule. Work from home." I brush a tear from her cheek. "Your safety matters more."
The look she gives me is raw, disbelieving. "Why? Why are you doing all this for me? We barely know each other."
It's the question I've been asking myself since she arrived on my doorstep. The answer comes with surprising clarity.
"Because you matter, Destiny. To me. More than I expected. More than makes sense." I cup her face in my hands. "And I'm tired of fighting it."
I kiss her then, not the gentle exploration from the tree lighting but something deeper, more urgent. She responds instantly, her arms winding around my neck, body pressing closer.
Her mouth is warm and welcoming, opening under mine. I trace the seam of her lips with my tongue, and she grants me access with a soft whimper that ignites something primal in my blood.
What begins as comfort quickly transforms into hunger. My hands slide from her face to her waist, pulling her onto my lap. She straddles me willingly, her fingers threading through my hair as the kiss deepens.
"Mason," she breathes against my lips. "Take me to bed—”
I pull back slightly, searching her face for any hint of doubt or hesitation. Finding none, I stand, lifting her with me. Her legs wrap around my waist as I carry her toward the stairs.
"You're sure?" I ask, giving her one last chance to reconsider.
In answer, she kisses me again, slow and deliberate. "I've never been more sure of anything."
I carry her to my bedroom, kicking the door closed behind us even though we're alone. The need for privacy feels instinctual, creating a sanctuary for what's about to happen between us. I set her down gently beside the bed, the moonlight streaming through the windows casting her in silver light.
Her hands tremble slightly as she reaches for the hem of her sweater, but her eyes never leave mine. There's determination there, along with desire and trust. She pulls the sweater over her head in one fluid motion, standing before me in a simple white bra.
My breath catches at the sight of her. "You're incredible," I whisper, meaning it more than I've ever meant anything.
A flush spreads across her chest, up her neck to her cheeks. "Your turn," she says, her voice steady despite her blush.
I unbutton my shirt slowly, letting her watch, giving her time to change her mind. But her gaze only grows more heated with each button that comes undone. When I shrug the shirt from my shoulders, her eyes travel over my chest and shoulders with open appreciation.
"Can I touch you?" she asks, and the question breaks my heart a little. That she feels the need to ask permission for something so simple.
"Always," I tell her, taking her hand and bringing it to my chest, placing her palm over my thundering heart. "You never have to ask."
Her touch is tentative at first, fingertips exploring the contours of my chest, tracing the lines of muscle with growing confidence. When her hand skims over my nipple, I can't suppress a small groan. Her eyes dart to mine, surprised by my response.
"Does that feel good?" she asks.
"Everything you do feels good," I assure her.
That seems to embolden her. She steps closer, both hands on me now, learning my body with curious exploration. I let her lead, resisting the urge to rush, to take control. This needs to be at her pace.
When her hands reach my belt, she hesitates. I cover her hands with mine, stilling them.
"We can stop anytime," I remind her. "There's no rush, no expectations."
She shakes her head. "I don't want to stop. I want..." She swallows, then meets my eyes. "I want to see all of you. I want you to see all of me."
With that, she reaches behind her back and unhooks her bra, letting it fall away. The sight of her bare breasts steals my breath. They're perfect, full and tipped with rosy nipples that tighten under my gaze.
"You're staring," she whispers, uncertainty creeping into her voice.
"Because you're breathtaking." I step closer but don't touch her yet. "May I?"
She nods, and I bring my hands up to cup her breasts, their weight filling my palms perfectly. She sighs, leaning into my touch as I brush my thumbs across her nipples. The sound she makes, a soft, broken moan, sends heat straight to my core.
"That feels..." she trails off, eyes closing.
"Tell me," I encourage her. "I want to know what feels good for you."
"Everything," she admits. "It's been so long since someone touched me to make me feel good, not just to take."
Her honesty fuels my determination to make this perfect for her. I lower my head, replacing one hand with my mouth, drawing her nipple between my lips. Her fingers thread through my hair, holding me to her with surprising strength as I lave and suckle.
"Mason," she gasps, her hips instinctively seeking contact.
I switch to her other breast, giving it the same attention while my hands move to her jeans, unfastening the button. I look up, checking her face for any sign of hesitation. Instead, I find her watching me with heavy-lidded desire.
"Please," she whispers.
That single word unleashes something primal in me. I slide her jeans and underwear down in one motion, helping her step free. Then I kneel before her, looking up the length of her body, taking in every curve, every freckle, the small scar on her hip, the way her stomach quivers under my gaze.
"No one has ever looked at me like you do," she says softly.
"How's that?" I ask, pressing a kiss to her hipbone.
"Like I'm precious. Like I'm worth looking at." Her voice catches. "Like I matter."
"You do matter." I run my hands up the backs of her legs, cupping her bottom. "More than I can say."
I guide her to sit on the edge of the bed, then kneel between her thighs. Her eyes widen as she realizes my intent.
"You don't have to—"
"I want to." I press kisses to her inner thighs, working my way inward. "I want to taste you, feel you come apart on my tongue. But only if you want that too."
She bites her lip, then nods, lying back and allowing her thighs to fall open. It's an act of tremendous trust—allowing herself to be so vulnerable, so exposed. I don't take it lightly.
I start slow, gentle kisses along her inner thighs, gradually working closer to her center.
When I finally taste her with a long, deliberate stroke of my tongue, she gasps, hips lifting off the bed.
I place a steadying hand on her stomach, holding her in place as I explore, learning what makes her tremble, what draws those sweet, broken sounds from her throat.
"Mason," she breathes, one hand fisting in my hair. "That's... I've never..."
I look up, momentarily pausing. "Never?"
She shakes her head, cheeks flushed with both arousal and what looks like embarrassment. "He never... he’s the only man I’ve ever been with, and he said he didn't like it."
Anger flares hot in my gut, but I push it down. This isn't about him. It's about her, about us, about replacing bad memories with good ones.
"His loss," I say, pressing a kiss to her inner thigh. "Because you taste incredible."
I return to my task with renewed determination, circling her clit with my tongue before drawing it between my lips. Her thighs begin to tremble as I slide one finger inside her, then two, curving them forward to find the spot that makes her cry out.
"Oh God," she gasps, her back arching. "Mason, I'm going to—"
"Let go," I encourage her, increasing the pressure and speed of both my tongue and fingers. "I've got you."
And she does, coming apart with a cry that might be my name, her inner walls pulsing around my fingers, thighs clamping around my head. I work her through it gently, easing back as the tremors subside, pressing soft kisses to her sensitized flesh.
When I finally raise my head, she's staring at me with something like wonder, chest heaving, a sheen of sweat on her skin making her glow in the moonlight.
"Come here," she says, voice raspy with spent desire.
I stand, quickly shedding the rest of my clothes before joining her on the bed. She surprises me by pushing me onto my back, straddling my thighs. Her confidence is a beautiful thing to witness.
"My turn," she says, tracing her fingers down my chest to my stomach, following the trail of hair that leads lower.
When she wraps her hand around me, I nearly lose control then and there. It's been so long, and the sight of her—flushed with pleasure, eyes dark with desire, her small hand working me with growing confidence—is almost too much.
"Destiny," I warn, my voice strained. "If you keep that up, this will be over embarrassingly fast."
She smiles, a flash of feminine power in her expression. "Next time I want to taste you too," she says, and the promise of "next time" makes my heart swell. "But right now, I need to feel you inside me."
She positions herself over me, then pauses, uncertainty flickering across her face. "I'm on the pill," she says. "And I'm clean. But if you want to use something—"
"I'm clean too," I assure her. "Had my physical three months ago. But we can use protection if you'd prefer."
She shakes her head. "I want to feel you. All of you."
The significance of this trust isn't lost on me. She lowers herself slowly, taking me in inch by inch, both of us groaning at the exquisite sensation. When she's fully seated, she stills, adjusting to the feeling of me inside her.
"You feel incredible," I tell her, hands on her hips, resisting the urge to thrust upward.
"So do you." She begins to move, finding a rhythm that has us both gasping. "So full. So good."
I let her set the pace, watching in awe as she takes her pleasure. Her head falls back, exposing the elegant line of her throat, her breasts bouncing gently with each movement. She's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.
But I can tell she's holding back, still not fully letting go. I sit up, changing the angle, wrapping one arm around her back while my other hand finds where we're joined.
"Mason," she gasps as my fingers circle her clit.
"Let go," I encourage her again. "You're safe with me."
Something in my words reaches her. I see the moment the last of her walls crumble. She wraps her arms around my neck, pressing her forehead to mine as she moves with newfound abandon.
"That's it," I murmur against her lips. "Take what you need."
"I need you," she confesses, the words spilling out as if she can't contain them. "All of you."
I capture her lips in a kiss that tells her everything I'm not ready to say aloud—that I'm falling for her, that she's become essential to me in ways I never thought possible, that I'd do anything to keep her safe and happy.
When she comes this time, it's with her eyes open, locked on mine, a level of intimacy I've never experienced before. The sight of her falling apart in my arms pushes me over the edge. I follow her into bliss, holding her tight against me as waves of pleasure crash over us both.
Afterward, we lie tangled together, her head on my chest, my fingers tracing idle patterns on her back. I've never felt so content, so perfectly at peace.
"Thank you," she whispers against my skin.
I tilt her chin up, needing to see her face. "For what?"
"For making me feel..." She searches for the right words. "Safe. Beautiful. Worthy."
"You are all those things," I tell her, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "And so much more."
She settles back against me with a contented sigh. "I didn't know it could be like this."
"Like what?"
"So connected. Like it's not just bodies, but..." She trails off.
"Souls," I finish for her. Because that's what it felt like—a joining of more than just physical forms.
She nods, pressing a kiss over my heart. "Exactly."
As she drifts toward sleep in my arms, I make a silent vow. I'll spend the rest of my life, if she'll let me, showing her exactly how precious she is. How worthy of love, of pleasure, of safety. How completely she's captivated me in just these few short days.
Because somehow, in the space of less than a week, this woman has become everything to me. And I'm beginning to hope that I'm becoming the same to her.