Chapter 13 - Bryce
My mind was spinning, and my pulse thundered through my body.
I had just let the man who had rejected me bring me to orgasm, watched as he had licked that very reaction from his own fingers, and I was dizzy with the sight of it all. The impossibility that he even wanted me after everything.
But the evidence was there; he strained against his pants, and I remembered how he had felt in me. My body remembered every inch of him, how he had once groaned his own pleasure onto my skin, how he had told me I drove him insane.
I want to see you.
My habitual doubts rose, but I needed to be different—wanted to be different. So I buried that insecure girl down, tried to silence the thoughts that said he underestimated just how big I was, and how I would see the disgust in his face before he hastily covered it up.
I buried and buried it, and by the time I couldn’t reach those thoughts anymore, and instead trusted the heat in his eyes as he roved his gaze over me, I was already tearing off my sweatshirt. I let it fall to the floor, bared in a pretty bra that his eyes focused on.
Mason swore softly, already moving toward me.
But I wasn’t done.
If he wanted to see me, then he would. He would face every bit of who I was, and I know would know the truth. I watched his face for any hint of repulsion as he took in my bared upper body. Mason stifled a groan as I reached for my bra.
“No,” he said, his voice rough again. “Let me. Let me undress you.”
My hands trembled as I clenched them behind my back, tugging the tail ends of my hair as I nodded.
Mason easily crossed the space between us, his hands sliding up my waist. I tensed, waiting for him to flinch, to grab too hard, to reveal his thoughts that he was disgusted by my size.
But his eyes were blown wide as he flicked the clasp of my bra, letting it fall away.
My breasts hung heavily, and Mason was already kneeling to bury his face in them. I gasped as he tugged one nipple and thumbed over the other one. He didn’t linger long and kissed my stomach. I went to breathe in, but Mason’s glare narrowed on me, as if to even dare do such a thing.
I couldn’t cover up, couldn’t mask anything, couldn’t pretend—not here, not with him.
His mouth over the swell of my stomach, and he licked down every stretch mark, bite at the fullness of my hips, before he was tugging down my sweatpants, and then my drenched panties.
My face burned when I saw the damp patch from where he’d already fingered me to one orgasm.
Mason pressed his face to my left thigh, kissing inwards, before he leaned back and stripped off his own shirt.
As soon as I saw the rows of muscle, my mouth went dry.
God, I thought. It made sense he’d only gotten worked out more and harder.
But the sight of the tight line of abdominal muscles had my head spinning.
His biceps were as wide as my thigh, almost, corded with more muscle, and his shoulders were insanely broad.
He smirked up at me. “I told you that holding you wasn’t a problem.”
“Mason.” It was all I could moan, blinking at him.
“One day, I’ll have you sitting on my face,” he swore, never flinching, never taking his eyes off me, “and I’m going to help you through it without an ounce of self-consciousness.
I’m going to take every damn minute making up for what I caused.
But right now, Bryce, all I can think about is fucking you. Claiming you as you deserve.”
He was hard against the thin material of his pants, and he palmed over himself before he stood to take his pants off. My tongue was a heavy, lead weight in my mouth as my gaze dropped to between his legs. Somehow, I hadn’t recalled him being that big.
“Is it…” My voice was faint. “Will it fit?” A nervous laugh punctuated my question.
Yet Mason only gave me a devastatingly assured grin. “I’ll make it fit.”
Again, my head spun, and I was growing to be putty in his hands, my distrust melting away.
Before, a thousand alarm bells rang in my head, demanding me to notice that I had been in this situation before, that I had gotten hurt right after trusting him with my body—but the louder part of me was tired of fighting, of pretending I didn’t want him, of ignoring how aware I was of him constantly.
And now… this—it felt like the most right thing in all the world, no matter what.
“C’mere,” he murmured, motioning for me to come closer.
So I knelt, trying not to think about whether I looked as heavy as I felt as I kneeled.
Facing Mason, both of us on our knees, I didn’t hesitate to reach out, dragging my fingertips down those hardened muscles, going lower and lower, until I grasped his cock in my hand.
Mason hissed as I stroked him slowly. While I watched my hand, he watched me.
My face burned with the attention, yet I felt emboldened by how much he gazed at me.
Beneath his eyes, I felt… wanted.
Like I was someone worthy of the desire he looked at me with.
“Keep doing that,” he murmured as he swept in to cup my face, pulling me into a bruising kiss.
I kept my fist loose around him, the motion making him hiss into my mouth.
He caught my lower lip between his teeth, groaning when I thumbed over the tip of his cock.
His tongue twined with mine, and I swore that nothing else existed.
Just his body against mine, his mouth, tongue, and the promise of him about to enter me.
Bracing me, one hand on my hip, and the other guiding me down to lie on my back, Mason lowered me to the cave floor, and I found myself in an artful pile of our clothing.
“It's not the blanket I brought last time, but…” he let out a soft laugh, the sound caught between the barest of gaps between our mouths.
“I don’t care,” I told him breathlessly, pulling him back down to me with a grip in his hair. He let out a low moan as he took my mouth back against his. My thighs parted for him, falling to the floor, but he pulled back, narrowing his eyes at me.
“My waist,” he said, tapping my thigh. “That’s where I want them to stay. Let me feel you.”
A thrill went through me, and I was aware of how sensitive I was already from my first orgasm, and how I still ached for him.
Securely locking my thighs around him, I clung onto Mason as he slid himself over me.
His arms braced him over my body, and I moaned softly at the flex of his bicep, pressing my mouth to it.
“I like that you like my strength,” he laughed quietly. I dig my teeth into his skin, biting hard.
I was about to respond when the head of his cock brushed my entrance. My body tensed, but Mason only smoothed a hand down my waist.
“Relax for me,” he encouraged softly. “I’ll take care of you; I’ll be slow.”
And yet I was hungry for him now—hungry for that swift, single entering, so he would finally be seated in me properly.
So I clenched my thighs tighter, pulling him into me.
Mason’s cock pushed inside, entering me.
The stretch, despite already having three of his fingers, felt different from how he’d been inside me only moments ago.
This was more intense, more demanding, and I felt how he twitched within me.
“Fuck,” he groaned. Mason’s forehead pressed to mine.
I didn’t know if he felt it, but it was like this moment, this joining, took us right back to seven years ago.
Before my ostracization, before I knew how deep the pack’s rejection of me went, and even before Cassie.
Before White Bay, and demons. Before all that, it had been Mason and me, hidden away in a cave, letting something become of those passing, flirtatious comments.
“I’ve waited for this,” Mason told me quietly, sliding in so painstakingly slow that I almost begged for him.
My walls tightened, and I fought to keep my breathing steady, to pace myself, to not rush us.
But I clenched around him, as if silently pleading to never be apart.
“Every damn day you were gone, I waited for you. For this.”
“Mason, please,” I moaned softly. My fingernails had a death grip on his shoulders, and the muscles tensed hard beneath his skin. I knew I could try to rip him apart like this, let out the rejected wolf inside—take my revenge with teeth and claws and sex, and he would have it all.
“Please what?” he teased, letting me adjust to his sheer size. My breath hitched.
“Please—” I met his gaze, and my stomach swooped, curling into him, into the desire that crested and built between us. “Please… please fuck me.”
“Was it so hard to ask?” The purr came pressed to my neck, and I felt the swipe of his tongue.
I whimpered, clinging to him harder. I had forgotten how crazy this man made me.
For seven years, I had buried my desire for him.
Beneath me, I fisted my hands in the pile of clothing and realized just how strongly his scent surrounded me.
Either from his clothing or Mason himself.
“Yes,” I finally answered, letting out a huff of a laugh.
Mason growled and slid out of me, and I felt every inch of him leaving me.
I gasped at the sudden emptiness—only to keen loudly when he slammed back in.
Mason pulled one of my hands from his shoulder and linked his fingers through mine.
He brought my knuckles to his mouth, kissing them, before he pinned my hand above my head.
Nosing down my inner arm, Mason groaned.
“I’m not going to last long with you all laid out for me like this,” he told me.
“Then don’t,” I gasped, as he began a steady rhythm, thrusting into me with abandon. My body shivered, shuddering with pleasure as he carved a place inside me for himself.