Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
Beau
Mason’s mouth was on mine before the door fully closed, his hands threading through my hair, pulling me closer with a desperation that matched my own. I backed him against the wall, my body pressing into his, and he made a sound—low and needy—that went straight through me.
“Fuck,” I breathed against his lips. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted this?”
“Tell me.” His hands were already working at the buttons of my jeans, his fingers fumbling.
“Since the conference room. That first day.” I kissed along his jaw, down his neck, tasting salt and cologne. “You walked in with that smug expression and your perfectly pressed suit, and all I could think about was messing you up.”
He laughed, but it came out strangled when I bit down gently on his collarbone. “You’re terrible at first impressions.”
“And you’re terrible at admitting what you want.” I pulled back to look at him. His pupils were wide, his lips were swollen from kissing, and my hands had completely wrecked his carefully styled hair. He looked undone, and I’d barely started. “But you want this. Don’t you?”
“Yes.” The word came out rough. “God, yes.”
“Then stop thinking.” I grabbed the hem of his shirt and pulled it over his head, buttons be damned. “Stop analyzing. Just feel.”
Mason’s hands went to my shirt, yanking it off with more force than I expected, and suddenly we were skin to skin. His chest was firm against mine, warm, and I could feel his heart pounding as fast as my own.
“I don’t know how to do this,” he admitted, his forehead resting against mine.
“Do what?”
“Not be in control.”
I cupped his face, forcing him to look at me. “Then let me be in control. Just for tonight.”
Something flickered in his eyes—uncertainty, then heat. “Okay.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
I kissed him again, slower this time, savoring it. His mouth opened under mine, our tongues sliding together, and I poured everything I’d been holding back into that kiss. Every moment of frustration, every night lying awake thinking about him, every ounce of want I’d tried to suppress.
My hands traced down his chest, over his abs—defined, because of course they were—to the waistband of his jeans. I flicked open the button, slid down the zipper, and Mason’s breath hitched.
“Beau—”
“Shh. I’ve got you.”
I pushed his jeans down, taking his boxer briefs with them, and Mason stepped out of them, kicking them aside. And then he was standing there completely naked, completely vulnerable, and absolutely gorgeous.
“You’re staring,” he said, but there was no self-consciousness in his voice. Just heat.
“I’m appreciating.” I took a step back, letting my eyes travel over every inch of him. “Give me a second. I’ve been fantasizing about this.”
“Only a second?”
“Don’t get cocky, Price.”
“Too late.” He reached for me, pulling me against him, and I could feel exactly how affected he was. “Your turn.”
His hands went to my jeans, and unlike his earlier fumbling, these movements were confident, practiced. He had my jeans and underwear off in seconds, and then we were both naked, pressed together, and the feeling of skin on skin was almost too much.
“Bed,” I managed. “Now.”
Mason grabbed my hand and pulled me toward the king-size bed. We fell onto it together, a tangle of limbs and desperate kisses. His hands were everywhere—my back, my ass, threading through my hair—and I couldn’t get enough.
I rolled us so I was on top, straddling his hips, and looked down at him. Mason Price, always so controlled, so careful, was completely undone beneath me. His chest was heaving, his hands gripping my thighs, his eyes dark with want.
“You’re beautiful,” I said.
“I’m not—”
“You are.” I leaned down and kissed him, cutting off whatever protest he was about to make. “And I’m going to prove it to you.”
I kissed down his neck, across his collarbone, down his chest. Every gasp, every shudder, every time his fingers tightened in my hair made me want him more. By the time I reached his hip bone, he was practically vibrating with need.
“Beau, please—”
“Please what?”
“Stop teasing.”
“But you look so good like this. Desperate. Wanting.” I bit down gently on his hip, and he jerked beneath me. “I could get used to this.”
“I swear to God, if you don’t—”
I took his cock in my mouth, cutting off whatever threat he was about to make.
The sound Mason made was inhuman—part groan, part curse, all desperation. His hands fisted in my hair, not pushing, just holding on like I was an anchor. I took my time, using everything I knew, learning what made him gasp, what made his hips jerk, what made him say my name like a prayer.
I glanced up the length of his body, met his eyes, and the intensity in his gaze nearly undid me. There was a vulnerability there, a trust that humbled me. I wanted to savor every moment, to draw out his pleasure until he was begging for release.
My hand joined my mouth, working in tandem, and Mason’s head fell back against the pillow, his eyes fluttering closed. “Fuck, Beau,” he breathed, the words barely more than a whisper. “I can’t... I’m gonna—”
I cut him off with a low hum of approval, the vibrations making his hips buck. Mason was teetering on the edge, but I wasn’t ready to let him come just yet. I slowed my movements, dragging out the torment, and his protests turned into a string of curses.
“You’re a fucking cruel man, Beau,” he gasped, his voice strained.
I squeezed his balls and released him with a final, lingering suck, then crawled up his body, placing a trail of kisses on his stomach, his chest, his neck. “And you love it,” I murmured against his ear.
Mason’s response was to flip us suddenly, pinning me beneath him with a feral grin. “Two can play at that game.”
Before I could respond, his mouth was on mine, hungry and demanding.
His hands roamed over me with a new sense of urgency, and I wrapped my legs around his waist, pulling him closer, needing to feel every inch of him against me.
His thick cock thrust against mine, and I felt it growing slick with desire.
When I looked into his eyes, they were glued to my face, and a lock of sweaty blonde hair fell onto his forehead.
“When I was a teenager, I’d go home after our lacrosse matches and beat off thinking about you,” Mason whispered, then he leaned down and softly bit the side of my neck.
“I’d fantasize about fucking you in the middle of the field, holding you down and ramming into you as hard as I could.
” He licked my earlobe, and I shuddered.
“You loved it in my fantasy. Think you’d love it now? ”
Before I could answer, the head of Mason cock pushed against my entrance. His eyes snapped shut, and he groaned.
“You weren’t the only one,” I breathed, and I recalled many evenings after a tough match, wondering how it would feel to touch Mason. To feel his body tremble against mine. The reality was so much better than my fantasy. “Give it to me, Mason. I want to feel you inside me. Think you’re man enough?”
Mason froze, opened his eyes, his chest heaving. “God yes.”
“Condoms and stuff. They’re in my suitcase over by the...”
Mason was off me in a flash, rummaging through my suitcase like a man on a mission. He returned with a triumphant grin, condoms and a small bottle of lube in hand. I watched him, propped up on my elbows. I grabbed my cock, feeling it swell even more as he got back on the bed.
He knelt between my legs, tearing open a condom packet with his teeth. I took a moment to appreciate the sight of him—taut muscles, flushed skin, and those eyes, burning with desire. He rolled the condom on with practiced ease, then squirted a generous amount of lube onto his fingers.
“Spread your legs for me, Beau,” he said, his voice a low rasp. I did as he asked, feeling exposed and vulnerable, but trusting him implicitly. Mason’s fingers circled my entrance, teasing, before one slipped inside. I gasped at the intrusion, the sensation both familiar and new with him.
“Okay?” he asked, concern flickering across his face.
“More than okay,” I assured him, reaching down to stroke myself. “It’s just been a while.”
He nodded, adding another finger, stretching me gently. “You’re so tight. I can’t wait to feel you around my cock.”
I moaned at his words, the thought of taking him inside me sending a fresh wave of desire through my body. “Now, Mason. I’m ready.”
He positioned himself at my entrance, the head of his cock replacing his fingers. “Look at me, Beau,” he said, and our eyes locked as he pushed inside.
The feeling was intense, a mix of pain and pleasure as my body adjusted to his considerable size. Mason moved slowly, his jaw clenched, sweat beading on his forehead as he fought for control. “You feel incredible,” he ground out.
Finally, he was fully seated inside me, and we both stilled, savoring the connection. It was more intimate than I’d ever imagined, more intense than any fantasy. I wrapped my legs around his waist, urging him on.
Mason began to move, starting with slow, deep thrusts that quickly built up a rhythm. I met him stroke for stroke, our bodies in perfect sync. The room filled with the sound of our moans, the scent of our sex, the sight of our joined bodies.
“Harder,” I gasped, and Mason obliged, driving into me with a force that sent me reeling. It was rough and raw and exactly what I needed.
“Is this what you wanted?” he panted, his hips snapping against mine. “To be fucked by me? To take my cock like this?”
“Yes,” I cried out, feeling the coil of pleasure tightening in my belly. “Shit please, give it to me rough. I want you to pound me like you always wanted to.”
Something snapped within him. His thrusts became more forceful, more desperate, and I met him movement for movement, my nails digging into his back. We were both gasping, both chasing something just out of reach, both completely lost in each other.
“Fuck, Beau, you feel so damn good,” Mason growled, his voice barely recognizable. “I’ve dreamt of this, of being inside you, feeling you clench around me.”
I could only moan in response, my voice lost in the overwhelming sensation of him filling me completely. My fingers clawed at the sheets, searching for purchase as he drove us both higher and higher.
The sounds of our bodies colliding, the wet slap of skin on skin, and the harsh rasp of our breathing filled the room. I felt sweat trickling down my chest, the sting of Mason’s fingers digging into my flesh, and it only fueled my desire.
“I’m close,” I warned him, my vision blurring at the edges. “So fucking close.”
Mason leaned down, capturing my lips in a fierce, demanding kiss as he reached between us to wrap his hand around my cock. “Come for me, Beau,” he said against my mouth. “I want to feel you fall apart.”
His words were my undoing. With a shout, I came hard, my body convulsing as hot jets of come painted both our stomachs. Mason’s thrusts became erratic, and with a final, deep push, he buried himself inside me and found his own release, his body shuddering with the force of it.
“Beau, oh my God, Beau,” Mason heaved, then his entire body shuddered. A moment later he collapsed on top of me, his skin sticking to mine. We were both a mess—sweaty, sticky, and utterly spent.
For a while, there was silence, save for our breathing gradually slowing down. Then Mason turned his head to look at me, his eyes soft in the afterglow. “That was...”
“Yeah,” I agreed, smiling lazily at him. “It was.”
He reached out to brush a stray lock of hair off my forehead, his touch gentle. “I didn’t know it could be like this.”
I captured his hand, bringing it to my lips for a kiss. “Neither did I.”
We lay there in the quiet, the reality of what we’d just shared settling over us. It was more than just sex; it was a connection that had been simmering between us for years, finally brought to the surface.
“Beau?”
“Hmm?”
“I don’t regret this.”
I turned my head to look at him. His hair was completely destroyed, his lips swollen, his skin flushed. He looked more relaxed than I’d ever seen him, and impossibly more beautiful.
“Good,” I said. “Because I’m not done with you yet.”
His eyes widened. “Yet?”
I rolled on top of him, pinning his wrists above his head, and grinned. “You didn’t think one round would be enough, did you? We have all night, and I plan to make up for lost time.”
Mason’s answering smile was wicked. “Is that a challenge, Thatcher?”
“It’s a promise.”
“Then you’d better deliver.” He pulled one hand free and cupped the back of my neck, pulling me down for a kiss. “Because I’m keeping score.”
I laughed against his mouth. “Of course you are.”
“And I always win.”
“We’ll see about that.”