Chapter 22 #3
He nudges forward, and I gasp as he pushes inside, stretching me, filling me, never once breaking eye contact. His brows pinch slightly as he settles into me with a deep groan, and my nails dig into his back, trying to ground myself in the flood of sensation.
He starts moving with slow, deep thrusts, but it’s already too much. All of it. His body, his heat, his eyes still locked on mine.
Overwhelmed, I let my head fall back and my eyes fall shut, and he stills. Mason’s fingers are firm on my chin, tilting my face back toward his.
“You look away, and I stop.”
I swallow, nodding, forcing my eyes open, and he moves again, every thrust dragging across that perfect spot, making my toes curl. We stay locked like that, eyes open, hearts exposed, as he fucks me in the most deliberate way I’ve ever been touched. Like every inch of me matters, and I’m his.
When he kisses me again, it’s hot and full of need, and I open for him, moaning into his mouth. His lips trail down to my throat, then to my ear, where he breathes filth softened by reverence.
“You’re doing so well for me, Bambi. Fuck. Take me so well.”
“Didn’t Luc say that this is new to you too?” I whimper, gripping his shoulders tighter. “How are you so good at this?”
He takes my hand and kisses the center of my palm. “Do you know what image training is?”
“Yeah.” I nod, breathless. “You imagine yourself in the situation as if it’s real. Like standing on top of the trail, but in your head, you’re riding it, going over every root and every corner.”
“Exactly. You do it again and again. Dozens of times. Hundreds.”
He thrusts again, harder this time, making me cry out. His mouth finds mine, swallowing the sound in another kiss, then he moves lower, licking down my neck as his fingers slide to my chest.
He starts flicking my nipple until I gasp, head falling back again as pleasure zips through me like fire.
“You’d be shocked…” he murmurs, lips brushing the edge of my jaw, “… at the kind of things I imagined, watching you every day.”
Fuck.
My whole body shivers beneath him.
His hips keep rolling into me, and when he tilts his chin toward me, I know what he’s asking. I lean up and kiss him, open-mouthed and messy, swallowing both our gasps as his cock drags deep inside me.
When his fingers tighten around my hips, anchoring me harder to him, I slow down and shift my knees wider, letting him slide even deeper. His head drops to my shoulder with a groan, and I swear I can feel his restraint in every inch of him.
Without a word, he flips us. He lays me back and sits up, his hands gripping my thighs and guiding me down onto him again, and I gasp, back arching as he fills me from below.
“Mason.”
His hands slide to my waist, guiding every movement. I ride him at his pace, my hands braced on his chest, feeling his heartbeat thundering beneath my palms. His eyes stay on mine the whole time, like he’s watching every flicker of pleasure that crosses my face, memorizing every sound I make.
But after just a few moments, my hip starts to stutter, muscles twitching from the effort and the position. My thighs tremble, my breath catches, and I feel my body starting to falter.
As if he knows, Mason rolls us again, reversing our positions in a fluid motion. One second I’m above him, and the next I’m on my back again, his body stretching over mine. He catches my moan in his mouth as he crashes into a kiss that steals every last thought from my head.
And then his hand slips between us, his fingers finding my clit and rubbing tight, perfect circles, the rhythm synced with every deep, slow thrust of his hips. The combination almost undoes me, and a sob breaks in my throat, unrecognizable even to me.
“Come for me again,” he growls against my mouth, his voice rough with want. “Let me feel you break on my cock.”
And I do.
I fucking shatter.
There’s no build-up, no warning, my entire body just locks up, spine arching, heels digging into the backs of his thighs as my orgasm slams through me. My hands claw at his back, my head pressed into his shoulder as the pleasure hits me like a fucking avalanche.
I clamp down around him, my body milking him with every wave that rolls through me, and Mason breaks right along with me.
“F-fuck, Al.” He chokes, his voice half-growl, half-plea, as his hips jerk one final time.
He buries himself deep with a curse, his body shaking above me as he comes, spilling inside me in hot pulses. With his face in my neck, his breath ragged and hot, he wraps one arm tightly around my waist and cradles my head with the other, squeezing me to him.
“You’re fucking everything,” he whispers against my sweat-damp skin.
I hum in response, too breathless to speak, chest rising and falling in uneven bursts, while my heart pounds like it’s trying to memorize the rhythm of his.
My fingers slowly trace the curve of his spine, like I can draw my love into him through touch, and if I’m gentle enough, he’ll understand all the things I’m not ready to say out loud.
He doesn’t move.
Doesn’t pull out.
Doesn’t let go.
He just holds me.
Like letting go was never even a fucking option.
He’s my nobody, and maybe that’s exactly why this feels like everything.