Chapter 16 #2
His fingers trail up my side, lifting my shirt inch by inch until his palm finds bare skin.
When he tugs at the fabric, I sit up and peel it off, tossing it aside before reaching for his tank top.
He strips it off in one fluid motion, and my breath hitches.
My dick thickens at the sight of his muscles, my eyes glazing over the tan mounds of his abs and the dip between his pecs.
Our mouths crash together again, hungrier this time. His tongue slides against mine, his hands gripping my ass through my jeans. I gasp when he grinds into me, the hard press of him unmistakable against my thigh.
His head tips back, breaking the kiss. “What do you want?”
I swallow. “I… I don’t know.”
“I need you to tell me.” His eyes don’t move from mine.
Fucking hell. Heat floods my face as I bury myself in the crook of his neck, inhaling him. He smells of pine and sandalwood—probably one of those obnoxiously masculine soaps with a name like Forest Rage.
“Fuck me,” I whisper against his throat. “Please.”
He groans and clambers on top of me, arms bracketing my face. I stare up at him, admiring the way his lips are glistening with spit, cheeks flushed. His long hair falls down like a waterfall and tickles my face.
“I’ll fuck you so good,” he promises, and I believe him. Everything he does to me feels good.
He unbuttons my jeans, and I lift my hips so he can tug them down with my underwear. His fingers wrap around my cock, stroking, and a moan slips out of me as I buck into his fist.
“Do you have—“
“Yeah,” I pant against his lips. “Nightstand.”
He kisses me again, sweet and unhurried, before leaning over to open the nightstand drawer.
Then he freezes.
I glance at him, confused, until it dawns on me. Dread washes over me.
“This is a very pretty dildo,” he says, lifting a glittery pink shaft in his hand and examining it like he’s admiring a fine piece of art. He rubs his finger along the ridges.
“Oh my God,” I groan, hiding my face in the crook of my elbow. “I forgot that was in there.”
He laughs, and a second later I hear a loud slap as he smacks the silicone against his palm. “Very impressive.”
“Please, just kill me,” I mutter, voice muffled.
Still chuckling, he leans in and nuzzles against my cheek, coaxing me to look at him. “Hey. I’m just teasing. Honestly? I think it’s hot that you own a dildo.”
I frown, still flustered. “No, it’s pathetic.”
“It’s not,” he says firmly, pressing a kiss to my temple. “I like a man who knows what he wants.”
Despite my best efforts, he finally peels my arm away from my face. I stare at him, cheeks burning.
“I’m sorry,” he says quietly, rubbing my thigh with slow, reassuring circles. “I wasn’t making fun of you. Seriously, it’s sexy as hell.”
“Sexy?” I echo, disbelieving.
“Yeah. On the outside, you’re this awkward little nerd, but it turns out you own a nine inch dildo. It’s really fucking hot,” he says, voice low and gravelly.
I let out a mortified whine, which only makes him grin. He grabs my hand and brings it to his crotch, letting me feel how hard he is through his tented sweatpants.
“Feel that?” he murmurs. “See what you do to me, Hunter?”
Well, that makes one of us. My cock has gone completely soft with embarrassment, but he just looks down at it like it’s a challenge, not a problem.
“Let me take care of this,” he murmurs.
He kisses along my neck, nibbling and licking, while his hand wraps around me.
It doesn’t take long for me to start hardening again, not with the way he’s touching me like he can’t get enough of me.
He strokes my shaft, slow and steady, while his other hand massages my balls.
I gasp when his fingers slip lower, teasing my hole with a feathery touch.
My whole body trembles.
“You still want me to fuck you?” he asks hesitantly.
I nod frantically. “Yes. Please.”
He kisses my knee, then gently lifts my legs, folding them so my feet rest flat on the bed. His eyes drag down my body, slow and intense.
“Such a pretty hole,” he muses.
My cock twitches at the words.
He squeezes a generous amount of lube onto his fingers and rubs it on my rim, making me squirm. Then he pushes one finger inside—slow and smooth. His eyes stay glued on mine, watching for any signs of discomfort.
He pumps it in and out until my body relaxes, the initial discomfort melting away. I sink further into the mattress and try to give into the stretch. I’d nearly forgotten the feeling of being opened by someone else. He adds a second finger, scissoring them as he works me open.
I moan, biting down on my knuckles.
Mason lets out a grunt of disapproval. “No. Let me hear you, babyface.”
The nickname punches the air out of my lungs. I gasp and rock down against his fingers, taking them deeper. He curls his fingers to find my prostate, stroking that bundle of nerves that lights a fire in me. My back arches off the bed.
“Oh, God, Mase,” I groan.
He hums and adds a third finger, wiggling them in deeper. He starts fucking me with them in fast and filthy rhythm, until the slick sounds of lube squelching fills the room. I tremble, wrecked with need.
“Please,” I whimper. “Fuck me. I’m ready.”
He kisses my inner thigh and pulls out his fingers.
He disconnects his pump before peeling off his sweatpants and boxers in one fluid motion.
His cock is thick, flushed, and already leaking in his fist. He rips open a condom packet and rolls it on, leaving just enough slack at the tip.
Even with all the prep, I wonder how the hell he’s going to fit.
He flips me onto my stomach, and I arch my back, pushing my ass into the air. He runs his palm over my cheeks, fingers slipping along the curve.
He sucks in a sharp breath. “You’re just full of surprises, Hunter.”
I glance over my shoulder, confused. “What?”
“Your tattoo,“ he says, brushing his thumb over the small of my back.
Oh, right. I’d honestly forgotten it was there. The tramp stamp—pink lines in the shape of a flower—had been a rushed decision two years ago during my post-breakup mental spiral. Derek said I needed a change, so I had it done.
“Um, I got it a couple years ago,” I mumble.
“What kind of flower is it?”
“Japanese cherry blossom.”
“Fuck,” he groans. “That’s so hot.”
I feel the head of his cock catch against my hole, slick and hot. My breath hitches.
“You ready?”
“Yes.”
He pushes in slowly, inch by inch. It feels like his dick is splitting me open in the best way possible. My hands clench desperately at the sheets, balling the fabric in my fists. The stretch burns as I bear down on him. My jaw clenches, a bead of sweat trickling down my forehead.
Mason stills, fully inside.
“You okay?” he asks. He gently rubs my hip, soothing me.
“Yeah,” I croak, eyes screwed shut. “Just—fuck. Keep going. Slowly.”
He eases forward as he reaches around my waist to stroke my cock.
The sting dulls, and my body relaxes a little, adjusting to the sheer size of him.
The pain and pleasure are tangled so tightly I can’t tell where one ends and the other begins.
When I feel his hips flush against my ass, bottoming out, I let out a strangled sigh.
“God, you’re so big,” I grunt.
“Do you want to stop? I can pull out—“
“Don’t you fucking dare,” I groan, pushing back against him. “Fuck me, Mase.”
He lets go of my cock and grabs my hips with both hands, fingernails biting into my skin. He pulls out nearly all the way before pushing forward again, torturously slow, drawing a broken moan out of my throat.
“More. Faster,” I beg.
He does it again, harder this time, and I hear the echoed smack of his sweat-damp skin against mine. He tunnels into me, fucking me into the mattress until I’m a blabbering, leaking mess.
“You’re so tight,“ Mason grits out. “So perfect for me.”
He pounds into me, each stroke nice and deep. I rock back to meet him halfway, gasping with each thrust. My whole body feels hot and raw, like my nerve endings are lit on fire.
The headboard thuds against the wall repeatedly. I’m sure it’ll leave a mark. God, I hope my parents still get their security deposit back.
My orgasm starts to coil inside of me, simmering low in my belly. I’m drooling on the sheets, legs trembling. Sex never felt this good before.
“You gonna come for me, Hunter?” Mason purrs.
“God, yes.”
He barely grazes my cock before it erupts. My hole tightens around him as waves of pleasure pulse through me. I come hard, streaking the sheets and Mason’s fingers with my sticky release.
“Fuck,” Mason moans, voice distant through the fog. “Can I come on your back?”
I nod shakily, too spent to form words.
He pulls out, tears off the condom, and strokes himself quickly. Seconds later, he’s moaning as hot spurts of his come land across my lower back. I arch into it instinctively, ass in the air, the mess dripping down my skin.
The intensity hits me all at once. I collapse on my stomach, falling into a puddle of my own come. My chest heaves as I try to catch my breath.
Mason sinks down beside me, wrapping me up in his arms and pulling me tight against him. He exhales a tired, satisfied breath before pressing a soft kiss to my cheek.
“That was really fucking good,” he murmurs against my ear.
“Yeah,” I breathe, eyelids heavy. “We should probably shower, and I need to change the sheets.”
He groans in protest. “In a minute.”
So I let him hold me, ignoring the mess drying between us, and settle into the rhythm of his chest rising and falling. His fingers trace idle shapes on my shoulder, zig-zagging across my skin, raising goosebumps in their wake.
“We’re gonna have so much fun this summer, babyface,” he says, voice thick with affection.
My lips curl into a smile, brushing the curve of his collarbone. “So much fun,” I whisper back.