Chapter 68
LILY
Iwake slowly, awareness returning in layers.
Warmth. Safety. The solid weight of Mason's arm across my waist, his body curved around mine like he's protecting me even in sleep. His chest rises and falls against my back, steady and sure. His breath stirs my hair.
It’s still dark out, and the lights are still on. I know he left them on for me, and my heart melts.
For the first time in thirteen years, I don't wake up afraid. I don't check the exits. I don't reach for the knife under my pillow. I don't scan for threats or calculate escape routes. I just breathe.
And then I feel it—the hard length of him pressed against my lower back, thick and hot.
I inhale sharply. Heat floods through me, pooling low in my belly.
The memory of last night crashes over me: his mouth, his hands, the way he made me come apart over and over until I couldn't remember my own name.
I want more.
Isn’t that amazing? I press my lips together to keep the laugh that bubbles up in. For the longest time I figured sex wouldn’t be good enough to go out and seek. Boy, was I wrong, though I figure I only feel that way because it’s Mason here in bed with me.
His cock pulses against me. I reach behind me blindly, my fingers searching. I find him hot, velvet over steel.
He groans low in his throat. “Lily,” he rasps, his voice rough with sleep and need, arching into my touch.
His arm tightens around my waist, pulling me closer. I wrap my fingers around him tentatively, feeling the weight and heat of him in my palm. He's so hard it must hurt.
“Lily.” He bites my neck, like it’d warn me off instead of turn me on. “What are you doing?”
“Touching you,” I whisper. “If you can’t tell, I must be doing something wrong.”
He makes a sound that's half laugh, half groan. “There’s nothing wrong about your hand on my dick, pretty girl. But you keep doing that and I'm going to lose it.”
“Good.” I want him to lose it. I want to be the one who makes him lose control this time.
I stroke him slowly, learning the shape of him, the way his breath hitches when I tighten my grip. His hips rock forward into my hand, seeking more friction, and the raw need in the movement makes me feel powerful in a way I've never experienced.
“Lily—” His voice is strained. “You don't have to—”
“I want to.” I turn in his arms, pushing him onto his back. He goes willingly, his eyes dark and hungry as he watches me. “I want to taste you.”
His jaw clenches. “Jesus Christ.”
I move down his body, my hands trembling slightly. I've never done this before. I've watched porn, I’ve read about blow jobs, but the reality of him—thick and hard and leaking at the tip—is completely different from theory.
But I’ve loved everything we’ve done so far, and looking at him, seeing the way he’s watching me, makes me feel like I’m going to love this too.
I lower my mouth to him.