Chapter 14 #2
I freeze, anxiety spiking. “Because… you regret what we did yesterday?”
His head snaps toward me, eyes wide. “What? No. God, no. It’s not that.” He exhales, dragging a hand over his face. “It’s just… family stuff. I don’t really want to get into it. Not right now.”
I nod quickly. “Okay. Yeah. I get it.”
He leans back against the couch, staring at the ceiling for a moment before murmuring, “I just want to forget about it for a little while.”
My pulse stutters as my eyes flicker to his mouth. “Do you want me to, uh… distract you?” I ask, my voice awkward and small.
Flirting has never been my strength—I fumble words, miss cues, say things that sound clumsy instead of seductive. But Mason is looking at me like I’m doing a good job. Like he actually wants to kiss me.
“Please, Hunter.”
Before I can overthink it, I lean in. Our lips touch softly at first, then crash together hard like waves breaking against the shore. He tastes sweet like soda, the subtle flavor of root beer on his breath.
He deepens the kiss, tongue sweeping into my mouth, his hands sliding into my hair. I melt into him, every nerve buzzing under my skin. His fingers grip the back of my neck, guiding me closer until I’m half sprawled across his lap.
When his hands move to the hem of my tank top, I raise my arms, letting him tug it off. Cool air prickles my skin, my nipples hardening to pink peaks. Instinctively, I cross my arms over my chest, trying to silence the cruel voice in my head taunting me with insecurities.
I know I’m not built like him. I don’t have ripped muscles. My body is lean and lanky, my limbs disproportionately long. I’ve never felt at home in my body, but for some reason, Mason touches me like I’m beautiful.
I kiss him again, harder this time, pressing him back into the cushions. He exhales a shaky breath, one hand still tangled in my hair, the other gripping my waist like he can’t get close enough.
His palms drag down my chest, rough and hot against my skin.
When his fingers find my nipples, teasing and pinching, the sensation zaps through me like electricity.
I gasp, hips jerking involuntarily. I fist the fabric of his shirt, yanking him closer, desperate to feel more of him.
He pulls back only long enough to strip it over his head and toss it aside.
My breath catches. He’s all golden skin and lean muscle, every line and shadow begging to be touched. My gaze trails over his chest, the carved lines of his stomach, the faint dusting of hair leading down from his navel.
Then he’s on me again, his weight pressing me into the couch, the brown leather cool against my back as his mouth drags down my throat. His hair brushes my chin, soft and ticklish, before he licks my skin like it’s the best thing he’s ever tasted.
His hands pause at my waist, fingers trembling slightly. His voice drops low, rough against my ear. “Can I touch you?”
I nod quickly. “Yeah.”
He cups me through my sweatpants, making me whimper into his neck. I lift my hips to rut against him, my legs twitching and trashing beneath him. His hands are huge, veins raised across the surface as his fingers squeeze my erection.
“You’re so hard,” he muses, his voice rough with need.
Our mouths crash together again, messy and frantic, teeth grazing, breath mingling. When he shifts, pressing down against me, the friction makes my whole body tremble. I gasp into his mouth, my fingers gripping at his shoulders like I’m afraid to let go.
“I want to taste you again,” he pants against my lips. “Is that okay?”
“Y-yeah. Please.”
He grabs my waistband, and I lift for him, letting him strip my sweatpants and briefs in one swift pull. My cock springs free, slapping against my stomach. His gaze slowly cascades down my body as he licks his lips.
He straddles my thighs, and the sheer weight of him sitting on me is astounding. Everything about him is so big.
A broken whine tears from my throat as he fists my cock, stroking me slowly. Through fluttering lashes, I watch his mouth inch toward the tip of my cock before wet heat surrounds me. He swallows my entire length with practiced ease, head bobbing, his tongue sliding against every ridge and vein.
My hands drift to his hair like they’re being pulled in by gravity. I give his curls a tug, and he moans on my cock, vibrations buzzing around me.
“Fuck, Mason,” I groan, head thrown back against the armrest.
He pumps the base with one hand, matching the rhythm of his mouth, while the other gently rolls my balls. I choke back a sob, fighting the urge to buck into him. I don’t want to hurt him, but God, he’s too good at this.
A dangerous thought flickers through me—how many times has he done this before me? How many men has he unraveled like this? His dick-sucking abilities are lightyears ahead of mine.
His tongue licks the underside of my shaft before suckling at the tip, dipping into the slit. My toes curl, my back arching, and I can’t fight off my orgasm any longer.
“God, Mason, I’m gonna—”
He doesn’t pull off. Instead, he swallows me deeper, my cock nudging the back of his throat.
A moment later, I come undone in his mouth, hips stuttering, thighs spasming across the couch cushions. He continues stroking me, fingers gliding along my spit-soaked length, dragging out every pulse.
When he finally pulls off, his thumb swipes across his swollen lower lip, catching a drop of spilled come before pushing it back into his mouth. He swallows, throat bobbing, eyes locked on me with something dark and hungry.
My spent cock twitches at the sight. “Jesus,” I groan.
His wet, reddened lips curl into a satisfied smirk.
I glance at his crotch. His thick, hard cock is tenting his joggers and snaking down his thigh. The massive outline is intimidating and thrilling at the same time.
“Take your pants off,” I demand, surprising myself by how confident it sounds. “And sit up.”
His breath stutters, but he nods. He quickly takes off his pants and disconnects his insulin pump before sitting down, hands resting on his thighs. His huge cock is hard against his abs, already dripping at the slit.
Dropping to my knees on the hardwood, I sandwich myself between his legs. He looks down at me, pupils blown wide with lust. I hold his gaze as I lean forward, dragging my tongue in a steady stripe from base to tip. A strangled moan tears from his throat.
I swallow him down, inch by inch, fighting the urge to gag as my eyes sting. His cock feels hot and heavy on my tongue, stretching my mouth wide open. I breathe hard through my nose, trying to adjust to the suffocating sensation.
“You’re taking me so well,” Mason huffs, stroking my hair softly. “Take your time. Don’t hurt yourself.”
I suck slowly at first, cheeks hollowed, bobbing my head steadily as his tip grazes the back of my throat. It burns, but I push through, not wanting to look like the inexperienced loser I truly am.
“You’re so good at this,” he murmurs.
The praise loosens a knot in my chest. Thank God. I’ve only ever done this to Travis in the past, and he wasn’t anywhere near this big. I feel like I’m just making it up as I go along.
His fingers tighten in my hair, sharp and controlling. I curve my tongue around his girth, feeling the pulsing throb of him against me. When I push down to the base, I choke softly but keep going, quickening the pace.
“I’m close,” he warns, his voice raspy with breathless.
Moments later, heat floods my throat as he bucks up, burying himself to the hilt. I swallow him through it, sucking greedily as garbled curses spill from his lips.
Wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, I push myself upright, knees aching. I rub my sore jaw and plop onto the couch beside him. My heart still races, the room spinning faintly in the afterglow.
“Did I hurt you?” Mason asks, his voice laced with worry.
I blink, startled. Travis certainly didn’t give a shit if he hurt me during sex. This is… new. The concern in his voice makes me feel all warm and mushy inside.
Another intriguing data point to add to my research: being desired and being cared for are not the same thing.
“You didn’t,” I say, smiling shyly. “I think my blowjob skills are just a little rusty.”
Relief flashes over his face before he laughs, easing the tension. “Could’ve fooled me.”
I glance at him hesitantly. “Really? It was… good?”
“Obviously,” he says, snorting with amusement. “Why do you look so surprised? Has no one told you that before?”
I bite my lip. “Um. No.”
He scoffs. “They’re idiots.”
He pulls his joggers back on and reconnects his pump tubing. He tucks the device into his pocket before collapsing onto the couch, exhaling heavily.
Meanwhile, I fumble for my clothes, suddenly hyperaware that I’m still naked. I dress quickly with trembling hands and feel his heated gaze on me the whole time.
Without a word, he reaches for my elbow and draws me against his side. He leans in, pausing just a breath away from my mouth.
I freeze. Travis never kissed me after I went down on him. Not until I brushed my teeth.
But Mason just looks at me, his expression soft and almost pained, like not kissing me would physically hurt him. So I close the distance.
His lips are soft and coaxing, the faint scrape of stubble grazing my skin. He’s a really good kisser—bold and assertive and confident.
Everything I’m not.
He pulls back just enough to meet my gaze, his voice quieter now. “I should go,” he says, his tone remorseful.
I nod, trying to hide my disappointment. “Alright.”
He hesitates, fingers drumming lightly against his thigh. “It’s not that I want to,” he adds quickly. “I’ve just got some family stuff to handle.”
“You don’t owe me an explanation,” I say quickly.
His throat bobs. “Yeah, I know. I just… I want to tell you why I might be busy sometimes. Why I might seem flakey.”
He shifts back slightly, so we’re no longer touching. I lean in expectantly, waiting for him to continue.
“I have a little sister,” he says at last. “Maddie. She’s thirteen. I help take care of her.”
My heart softens. “Is that the family crisis you mentioned before? The reason you dropped out of college?”
He nods. “Yeah. Our mom’s always struggled with depression, but it got worse a couple of years ago. She couldn’t really take care of Maddie on her own anymore, so I moved back home to help.” His gaze drops to the floor. “And, um… she was just diagnosed with stage four cancer.”
The air leaves my lungs in a single, sharp breath.
“Oh my God,” I whisper, reaching for him instinctively. My hand lands on his forearm, my thumb tracing gentle circles against his skin. “I’m so sorry, Mason. That’s… that’s awful.”
He blinks at the floor. “Yeah. She told Maddie tonight. She didn’t take it well—locked herself in her room and wouldn’t talk to either of us. I wanted to give her space, but I should probably head back soon and check on her.”
If I wasn’t already swooning for him, I am now. Nothing gets me going more than beefy guys with even beefier hearts.
“Thank you for telling me,” I say honestly. “And… Maddie is lucky to have you. You’re a good brother.”
“Thanks,” he says softly, cracking a half-smile and pushing himself up from the couch. He stretches, arms reaching high overhead, subtly flexing. When he pulls his T-shirt back on, his curls tumble messily over his forehead, but somehow he makes it look sexy.
He bends down to pick up his keys and glances back at me. “I’ll text you later?”
“Yeah, sure,” I say, trying to sound nonchalant. As if I do this sort of thing all the time—the casual sex thing. “Sounds good.”
He leans down and presses one last short kiss to my lips before turning to leave. I watch him go, the door closing softly behind him.
After he’s gone, the house is too quiet. I collapse on the couch and bury my face into the cushions, groaning. My lips are still warm where he kissed me.
I don’t recognize this tingly feeling inside me. It’s like an unidentified species, unable to be classified. All I know is that it’s dangerous and growing faster than I can contain it.