Chapter 10 - Mason
Things are going so well that everything feels like a fucking dream.
She said yes to the date. My brothers are okay with her being here. More than okay, they're welcoming her with open arms. We're all bantering like we've known each other for years, and she's participating. Laughing. Fitting in like she was always meant to be part of this family.
She's incredible.
Lunch winds down, dishes are cleared, and I'm mentally preparing to take Lily to meet Sarah when she turns to me, her green eyes bright with something that might be nervousness.
"Do you think I could shower first?" she asks quietly. "I want to look my best when I meet Sarah. Make a good first impression."
"Of course." The answer is automatic. "You can shower at my place."
"Your place?" Her eyebrows rise.
"My cottage. It's closer than Wade's, and I've got clean towels and better water pressure." I'm already standing, ready to take her there, when I notice Rosie's eyes drooping. The kid's exhausted, practically falling asleep in her chair despite Emma's best efforts to keep her engaged with coloring.
"Rosie's wiped," Lily says, following my gaze. Her voice holds that single mom tension calculating how to handle her child's needs while also trying to do what she needs to do for herself. "Maybe I should just—"
"I can take both girls for a nap," Tucker interrupts smoothly. He's already moving toward the girls, his dad instincts kicking in. "Emma needs one anyway, even though she'll fight me on it. Your daughter can sleep in Emma's room, and I'll keep an ear out for both of them."
Lily's face goes through several expressions. Gratitude. Uncertainty. The instinctive fear of trusting someone else with her daughter.
"Rosie will be safe."
"I know, I just—" She bites her lip. "I've never left her with anyone except my mom, and that was years ago before everything went to shit."
"First time for everything," Tucker says gently. "And Mason's right. I've got experience with stubborn toddlers who think naps are punishment. She'll be fine, I promise."
I open my mouth to tell Tucker he doesn't have to do this, that we can figure something else out, but he cuts me off with a look.
"Shut up and seize this opportunity," he says bluntly. "You've been miserable for months, and now you've got a woman who actually likes you despite your terrible personality. Don't fuck it up by being a martyr."
Colt snorts beer through his nose. Boone's grinning. Even Rhett looks amused.
"He's right," Lily says softly. "If you're okay with it, Tucker? I'd really appreciate it. Just for an hour or two while I shower and meet Sarah."
Tucker's already scooping up a yawning Rosie, who doesn't even protest, just curls into his shoulder like she's known him her whole life. Emma takes his hand, chattering about which stuffed animals Rosie should sleep with.
"Take your time," Tucker says, his eyes on me. "As much time as you need."
I nod, something tight in my chest loosening. "Thanks, brother."
"Don't mention it." He's already heading toward the stairs with both girls. "Just don't waste it."
Lily and I walk back to my cottage. The afternoon sun is brutal now, beating down on us without mercy. Sweat trickles down my spine, soaking into my already-damp henley. Lily's flushed, her cardigan clinging to her curves in ways that make my cock throb.
"Your brothers are funnier and way more laid-back than I expected," she says as we approach my cottage.
I chuckle. "What did you expect? A bunch of grunting cavemen who communicate only through nods and beer?"
"Maybe." She grins. "I mean, you're cowboys. I thought there'd be more rugged silence and brooding masculinity."
"You've been watching too many westerns."
"Maybe," she admits. "But I always loved western movies. Cowboys seemed very gentlemanly most of the time. Opening doors, protecting women, that whole code of honor thing." She pauses. "They were also incredibly violent, which was less appealing."
I unlock my cottage door and hold it open for her. "Sounds like I got the best traits out of those movies then. Gentlemanly without the excessive violence."
"Agreed." Her smile is warm as she steps inside. "Though I wouldn't mind seeing you get a little rough sometimes."
My cock, already half-hard from proximity and imagination, goes fully erect. I force myself to focus on leading her through my cottage to the bathroom instead of bending her over the nearest surface and finding out exactly how rough she wants me to get.
My cottage is smaller than Wade's. One bedroom, one bathroom, a kitchen that's more functional than pretty. But it's clean, cleaner than most bachelor pads, and the bathroom has good lighting and that fantastic water pressure I promised.
We stop at the bathroom door, both of us sweaty and flushed. I can see sweat trickling down her neck, disappearing into the collar of her cardigan. I want to tilt her head back and lick that path. Want to kiss her neck until she's moaning. Want to make her beg for my cock.
"Good bath," I manage to say, my voice rougher than I intend. "Towels are in the cabinet. Take your time."
I'm about to turn around and leave—give her privacy, be a gentleman, not pressure her—when she stutters.
"Do you—" She stops, bites her lip. "Would you want to take the shower with me?"
I blink. Did I hear that right? Did she just—
"What?" The word comes out dumb.
"Do you want to shower with me?" She repeats it clearly this time, opening the bathroom door fully. An invitation. An offer. "Together."
My brain short-circuits. Every thought that isn't her naked body pressed against mine in the shower evaporates.
I walk up to her slowly, giving her time to change her mind. To realize what she's offering. To back out if this is just momentary insanity brought on by heat and gratitude.
"Are you sure?" I ask when I'm close enough to touch her. Close enough to smell her, sweat and something floral underneath. "Lily, are you sure about this?"
"I am." Her voice is steady despite the flush creeping up her neck. "I want this. I can't believe I'm saying this out loud because it's nothing like me, but I want you to touch me. To feel how much I'm thankful to have met you."
Everything in me wants to say yes. Wants to strip her naked and fuck her in the shower until she's screaming. But I force myself to ask the question that needs asking.
"You don't owe me anything." My hands clench into fists to keep from reaching for her. "The cottage, the food, the help with Sarah, none of that comes with conditions. I’ve told you this before, you don't need to do this."
"I know." She steps closer, closing the distance between us. "I'm not doing this because I think I have to. I'm doing this because I want to. Because I have no idea when we'll have another chance like this… Tucker watching Rosie, everyone else busy, just us alone with no interruptions."
Fuck resisting.
I've been holding back since the moment she walked into Murphy's last night. Holding back from touching her, from claiming her, from giving in to every filthy thought that's been running through my head. But she just confirmed what I hoped to hear, that she wants this as much as I do.
My hands find her hips and I pull her inside the bathroom, closing the door behind us with my foot. She gasps, her back hitting the bathroom sink. I place one hand on her cheek, tilting her face up to mine.
Then I kiss her.
There's nothing soft about it. Nothing sweet or hesitant. It's raw and desperate and hungry. Years of loneliness and want and need poured into the slide of my mouth against hers. She opens for me immediately, her tongue meeting mine, her hands fisting in my henley.
I can't get enough. I deepen the kiss, one hand sliding into her hair, the other gripping her hip hard enough to leave marks.
She moans into my mouth, and the sound goes straight to my cock. I press against her, letting her feel how hard I am, how much I want her. She rocks against me, seeking friction, and I nearly lose my fucking mind.
Our lips are still pressed together, tongues tangled, when her hands drop to my belt. She fumbles with the buckle, her fingers clumsy with need, and tosses it aside. Then she's working my jeans open, trying to shove them down without breaking the kiss.
It's endearing how horny she is. How desperate. And it only makes me hornier, makes my cock throb harder against the confines of my boxer briefs.
My jeans fall to my ankles, and she breaks the kiss long enough to drop to her knees. She looks up at me from that position. Green eyes bright with lust, lips swollen from kissing, her hands on my thighs, and asks:
"Do you prefer to guide my head, or can I go at my own rhythm?"
Fuck. She's fantastic.
"You're free to do whatever you like," I rasp out, my hand finding her hair, threading through the damp strands. "Whatever feels good for you."
Her smile is wicked as she hooks her fingers into my boxer briefs and pulls them down.
My cock springs free, thick and hard and already leaking pre-cum.
She doesn't even use her hands at first. Just opens those plump lips and takes me in her mouth like she's been fantasizing about this as much as I have.
"Fuck," I groan as her lips wrap around my head, sucking gently. She keeps her half-lidded eyes on mine, watching my reaction as she works me with just her mouth.
I tilt my head back and grip the sink behind her, my knuckles going white. My legs are trembling because she's sucking the soul out of me. Her tongue swirls around my tip, finding that sensitive spot just beneath the head, and I have to lock my knees to keep from collapsing.
Then she slides down. Takes more of me. Keeps going until I feel the back of her throat, and she deepthroats me without hesitation.
All hell breaks loose.
My hand tightens in her hair involuntarily, and I pull her down. Gently, just for two or three seconds until she's gagging on my cock. The sound is obscene, wet and desperate, and I immediately pull her back, giving her air.
"Shit, I'm sorry—" I start to apologize, but she cuts me off.
"Don't." Her voice is rough, breathless. "You don't need to be nice to me. You can be rough. Should be rough." She licks her lips, her eyes bright with something wild. "I can take it. I love it. Love how it makes me feel alive."
Jesus fucking Christ.
I smile, something dark and hungry taking over. "You sure about that?"
"Positive." She opens her mouth again, waiting, and the trust in that gesture, the absolute certainty that I won't hurt her even as she's asking me to use her, it's intoxicating.
I grab her hair again, this time with purpose. No more gentleness. No more holding back. She wants rough, I'm taking things there.
I fuck her throat.
My hips thrust forward, my cock sliding past her lips, over her tongue, hitting the back of her throat over and over. She gags but doesn't pull away. Just takes it, her hands braced on my thighs, her nails digging in.
Saliva trickles down the corners of her mouth. Her eyes water but stay locked on mine, gleaming with satisfaction. With pride. Like she's proving something to herself, that she can take this, that she's not fragile, that she can give as good as she gets.
And she's smiling. Even with my cock buried in her throat, even while gagging, she's fucking smiling.
"That's it," I growl, my grip tightening in her hair. "Take it all. Take every fucking inch."
She moans around my cock, the vibration traveling straight to my balls. I thrust harder, faster, chasing that feeling. It almost feels like she has no gag reflex at all, like she was made for this, for taking cock, for being used exactly how she wants to be used.
If I keep this going, I'll finish faster than she'll get tired of the blowjob. Already I can feel my orgasm building, pressure gathering at the base of my spine, my balls tightening.
Not yet. Not like this.
I slow down, my thrusts becoming shallow, gentle. Then I pull out completely, my cock leaving her mouth with a wet pop. Strings of saliva coat her lips, connecting her mouth to my cock, and she looks absolutely debauched.
Beautiful.
"Why'd you stop?" she asks, her voice wrecked. "I wasn't done."
"Because I was about to come," I admit roughly, reaching down to help her stand. "And I'm not finishing in your mouth the first time we do this."
"Where then?" Her eyes are challenging, hungry. "Where do you want to finish, Mason?"
Everywhere. On her tits. On her face. Deep inside her. But I don't say any of that yet.
"Shower first," I rasp out, reaching past her to turn on the water. "Then we'll see where this goes."
She nods, still breathless, and starts stripping off her cardigan. I help her, my hands shaking slightly as I reveal more of her body. The cardigan hits the floor. Then her shirt. Then her bra: white cotton, stretched tight over her full breasts.
When her tits spill free, I nearly lose my mind. They're huge, soft, with nipples already peaked with arousal. Perfect handfuls, more than handfuls. I want to bury my face between them, suck her nipples until she's begging.
But first, the shower.
I strip off my henley while she shimmies out of her jeans and panties. Then we're both naked, steam filling the bathroom, the mirror already fogging up.
I pull her into the shower with me, the hot water cascading over both of us. She gasps as it hits her, washing away the sweat and dust from the day. I grab the soap and start washing her, my hands sliding over her curves, learning every inch of her body.
She's soft everywhere. Thick thighs, round stomach, full breasts that bounce with every movement. Stretch marks on her hips and belly from pregnancy. She's real. Perfect. Everything I've been craving without knowing it.
"Mason," she breathes as my hands cup her breasts, my thumbs brushing over her nipples. "Please."
"Please what?" I lean down, my mouth close to her ear. "Tell me what you want, Lily."
"Touch me." Her hands grip my shoulders. "Fuck me. Anything. Just...I need more."
I slide one hand down her stomach, over the soft curve of her belly, between her thick thighs. When my fingers find her pussy, she's soaking wet. Not just from the shower. From arousal, from sucking my cock, from wanting this as much as I do.
"Fuck, you're wet," I groan, sliding two fingers inside her.
"For you," she gasps. "All for you."