Epilogue
Cass
The off-season had hit a welcome exhale, and instead of lazing around, I threw myself headfirst into my new internship at Sprocket & Sons Equipment Co. It was a family-run operation, but everything I needed to cut my teeth as a mechanic.
I was elbow-deep in the belly of a backhoe when the scent of fresh bread and roast beef caught my nose. Mason ducked into my workshop right as I looked up, a brown paper bag in one hand and two sodas tucked under his arm. His smile found me fast, like it always did.
“I told you the last time,” I said, wiping my hands as I walked over to greet him. “Keep this up and I’m going to start expecting regular lunch picnics.”
He bent down to kiss me. A brief, sweet testament to what we’d been through and how thankful we were to be here. Together.
“I’d build you your own lunch restaurant if you wanted,” he said, and held up the bag. “Hope you’re hungry.”
“Ravenous. And kind of turned on by your sandwich-making skills.”
“Lucky me,” he murmured, and kissed me again, deep and slow.
We sat on the steps outside the shop, the summer sun warm on our backs. He passed me a sandwich, carefully wrapped, and I bit in without hesitation.
“God, that’s good,” I moaned through a mouthful. “I love you.”
“I love you,” he said, nudging me with his shoulder. “How’s work? Did you ever get the recall on that tractor you told me about?”
I rolled my eyes. “It seems red tape is what holds the world together. They’re only slightly better at it here than at the arena.”
Mason laughed softly, and took another bite of his sandwich. “Good job, Cass. You waited two extra minutes before asking about the Frost Bank Center. Beat your record from my last visit.”
“Shut up,” I said with a light chuckle. “But also tell me… I need my fix.”
“It’s quiet,” he replied with a shrug. “Feels emptier without you there, and that just makes me miss you more. Your dad’s the only one who’s happy though.”
“Because his golden boy’s not getting distracted?”
“How’d you guess?” He smirked. “You’re ruining my rep.”
“Oh, please,” I scoffed. “I’m the reason you have a rep to begin with.”
He studied me for a beat, amusement flickering in his eyes. “Say what you want, but you’re the one who fell in love with me, remember? I can’t be all that bad.”
We talked a little about the upcoming season, and how my dad was forcing them to up their training.
Next year, they weren’t going to let the Cup slip through their fingers.
And even as we joked and talked shop, there was something going on with Mason.
He couldn’t stay still, and kept fidgeting with his pants.
“You sure you’re okay?” The food was gone, and I was nursing the last few sips of my drink.
He gave a stiff nod and stood up.
“Uh, what are you—?”
Without warning or fanfare, he dropped to one knee.
I froze.
Mason fished a small velvet box from his pocket, and I finally realized what he’d been nervous about.
“Cass, we’ve traveled a long road together,” he said, his gaze never leaving mine.
“You’ve been my solid rock when the ground insisted on giving way under my feet.
You’ve been my knight in shining armor when I needed it most, and now I’m asking you to be my love.
Forever. In case that part wasn’t obvious. Will you marry me?”
I laugh-cried as he slowly opened the box to reveal a ring like no other.
“Oh, Mason…”
“I made it,” he said proudly, carefully lifting it from the box and sliding it onto my outstretched finger. “Took metalwork lessons and everything.”
”It’s beautiful,” I said, sniffing through the purest joy I’d ever felt.
The ring was perfect. Shaped by Mason’s hands, and inlaid with a single stone that caught the light like a promise.
He pulled me to my feet and, hand clasping mine, he led me back into the workshop.
The second the door clicked behind us, he had me up against the wall between two shelving units.
Our mouths crashed together, frantic but sweet.
His hands gripped my hips, fingers pressing through my coveralls.
I could feel how hard he was already, his cock straining against the confines of his jeans.
I helped him peel out of them, and he did the same for me. We’d done this a thousand times, but it still felt brand new every damn time.
My underwear was soaked, clinging between my legs as his hand slid into them. One finger glided into the wet heat of my pussy with practiced ease, and I moaned out loud as he stroked my swollen clit.
“You’re always so wet for me,” he groaned. “So ready.”
“Fuck, Mason. That feels good.”
He kissed me once, hard, then got down on his knees in front of me. The first touch was light, almost a tease, his warm breath seeping through the thin, damp fabric of my underwear. Then his lips parted, and he pressed in, his tongue firm against the lace covering my pussy.
I threw my head back, one hand clutching the metal shelf beside my head, the other buried in his hair. Pulling him closer. The feel of him like that was dizzying. Too much but not enough at the same time.
He groaned, the sound vibrating through me before sinking straight into my clit where it throbbed and ached. My thighs tensed, and I angled my hips forward, offering him more. Mason obliged with relish, his tongue working in slow, torturous strokes.
“I love the way you taste.” His words were muffled, mouth barely leaving my pussy as he said them.
The thought of him tasting me like this, through the useless fabric barrier, made me lose my mind. He acted as though he had all the time in the world to make me fall apart, and it was working.
A strangled moan shuddered out of me, my thighs quivering from the rising heat. He hummed against me one more time, and I swear I felt it everywhere.
Mason looked up at me then, eyes blown dark with arousal. It sent a tantalizing shiver curling down my spine to settle hot and low in my stomach. Not breaking eye contact, he slowly removed my underwear, ready to taste me properly.
Heat flared under my skin like a raging wildfire, and somewhere in the back of my mind I hoped nobody would be coming in here until after we’d finished.
Then his mouth was on me, devouring. A sharp jolt raked through me as he lightly sucked my clit into his mouth. My knees nearly gave out. The shelf behind me shook dangerously under my desperate hold and swaying hips.
He alternated between lapping hungrily at my clit and circling it with infuriating slowness. I couldn’t decide which was going to drive me more insane.
Then he moved lower still, and a small whimper spilled out of me.
I mourned the loss of his mouth on my clit, but was comforted to find his tongue asking for access.
I spread my legs wider, and Mason plunged into me, thrusting with purpose, tracing lazy circles at my entrance.
Every stroke dragged me closer to oblivion.
“Don’t stop,” I begged.
He didn’t. His hands came up to grip my hips firmly, keeping me still for him. His tongue thrust in again, relentless, curling inside me like he meant to ruin me completely. If he only knew…
The sound of my own slick filled the quiet workshop, dirty and beautiful at the same time. And I took everything he had to give. Every last inch of it. I rocked against his face, feeling that familiar heat creeping up my thighs, my neck.
“I’m close.”
He moaned into me, and moved to suck my clit back into his mouth one last time. He held me captive like that, letting me rock against his face until the searing wave crashed over me. Still, he didn’t stop. Not until I was a quaking mess standing over him, dripping, ruined.
Only then did he pull away, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. His voice was thick with arousal when he said, “Now go lie down over there.”
Twitching, shaking, I took my position on the workbench in the corner. He followed close behind, lowering himself on top of me.
“I can’t wait to call you my wife,” he whispered. The feel of his solid need pressed hard at my entrance.
I was so wet, it didn’t take more than a nudge for Mason to slip inside and fill me up.
And then he kissed me, deep and slow. The kind of kiss that promised forever.