“If you don’t touch me soon, I might actually die,” I informed him seriously.
That earned me another laugh and the press of his palm against the bulge in my jeans. I moaned, pushing up into his touch.
“I’ve wanted this since I fell on you in the park,” he confessed, working open the button of my jeans. “You smelled so good, and your eyes… I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”
“Even covered in pasta salad?” I managed to joke, lifting my hips so he could slide my jeans down.
“Even then,” he confirmed, his eyes darkening as he took in the sight of me in just my boxer briefs. “Especially then.”
I reached for him, tugging him back up for a kiss while my hands worked at his jeans. Getting them open was a challenge—partly because of our position and partly because he was straining against the fabric in a way that left little room for maneuvering.
When I finally got them unfastened and slipped my hand inside, we both groaned. He was huge, hot and hard against my palm, leaking already through his underwear.
“Jesus, Mason,” I breathed, stroking him through the fabric.
He made that rumbling sound again, deeper this time, and buried his face in my neck. I could feel him trembling with the effort of restraint.
“It’s okay,” I whispered, turning to speak directly into his ear. “Let go a little. I can take it.”
A shudder ran through his powerful body. “You don’t know what you’re asking for,” he said, echoing his words from our first night.
“Then show me,” I challenged again.
His control snapped. With a growl that was decidedly inhuman, he pushed himself up and practically tore my underwear down my legs, leaving me naked and exposed beneath him. Before I could process that, he’d stripped off his own remaining clothing and was back, pressing me into the mattress with his considerable weight.
The feeling of skin on skin was electric. He was so hot—everywhere—and the contrast of smooth skin and rough hair created friction that had me gasping. His cock pressed against mine, larger and hotter than any partner I’d been with before.
“Mason,” I moaned, clutching at his shoulders.
He captured my mouth in a kiss that was all teeth and tongue, primal and possessive. When he pulled back, his eyes were fully gold now, glowing slightly in the dim room.
“Still not scared?” he asked, his voice deeper and rougher than I’d ever heard it.
“Not even a little,” I lied, because there was fear mixed with my arousal—a primal, instinctive response to the predator currently pinning me to my bed—but it only heightened the experience.
He grinned, and I caught a glimpse of teeth that were definitely sharper than normal. “Good.”
His mouth moved down my body, leaving a trail of kisses, nips, and what would definitely be marks tomorrow. When he reached my cock, he looked up at me, and the sight of those inhuman golden eyes peering up from between my thighs nearly made me come on the spot.
“Please,” I whispered, not even sure what I was begging for.
He didn’t tease. His mouth enveloped me in wet heat, and I cried out, my hands flying to his hair. He took me deep—deeper than should be physically possible—and the sensation of his throat constricting around me had my eyes rolling back.
His hands held my hips in a grip that would leave bruises, keeping me from thrusting up into his mouth. The restraint was its own kind of thrill—the reminder of his inhuman strength and how easily he could hold me down.
Just when I thought I might embarrass myself by coming too quickly, he pulled off, his eyes wild and his breathing ragged.
“Turn over,” he said, his voice a growl.
I complied eagerly, rolling onto my stomach. His hands gripped my hips, pulling them up until I was on my knees, face pressed into the pillow. I felt exposed, vulnerable, and impossibly turned on.
“Lube?” he asked, a hint of his normal voice breaking through the growl.
I gestured vaguely toward the nightstand, and he leaned over me to retrieve it, his body covering mine completely for a moment. The weight of him, the heat, the feeling of being completely surrounded by his larger frame—it was intoxicating.
I heard the cap snap open, and then his fingers, slick and warm, were circling my entrance. He was surprisingly gentle, working one thick finger into me slowly, carefully, despite the obvious struggle for control evident in his labored breathing.
“More,” I demanded, pushing back against his hand.
