For a second, he just stares at me. Then he bursts out laughing, his chest trembling against mine. “I knew it!” he says, pumping his fist with exaggerated triumph. “I’ve officially converted you into a ranch lover.”
I roll my eyes, but my fond smile betrays me. “Not a ranch lover,” I correct softly, tucking his hair out of his eyes. “Just a Mason lover.”
***
He would never admit it out loud, but Mason prefers being the little spoon. Despite being six-foot-two and over two hundred pounds of pure muscle, there’s nothing he loves more than having me cling to his shoulders like a backpack while he sleeps. And I don’t mind one bit—my nose buried in his soft curls, arms looped around his chest, my perpetually cold feet tucked between his warm calves.
The only downside? It’s nearly impossible to hide my morning wood.
When my eyes flutter open, heat surges low in my belly, blood rushing straight to my groin. My cock is rock hard, flush against the small of his back. God damn it.
I try to ease away, to give him space, but he grumbles in his sleep and clamps down on my arm, holding me in place. He looksunfairly adorable like this—curls scattered across the pillow, lips parted, snoring softly.
Last night was simple and sweet. After dinner and that quiet, perfect moment where we agreed to move in together, Mason was exhausted. He’d worked a nine-hour shift at Beachside Burgers, followed by a three-hour drive through a blizzard to Shelby Harbor. We ended up kissing and cuddling until he fell asleep in my arms. I wouldn’t have changed a thing.
Now, though, I want to devour him.
My lips press into his shoulder blades, decorating his tanned skin with light kisses. He hums in his sleep, low and gravelly, the sound making my cock twitch. His legs shift lazily against the satin sheets, his body slowly waking.
My fingers skim down his side, curving over the sharp angle of his hip. His muscles twitch beneath my touch.
“Mase,” I murmur against his ear.
His lashes flutter. “Mm.”
“Good morning,” I whisper, squeezing him closer.
A soft, drowsy smile tugs at his mouth. “Mornin’.”
He shifts back into me, grinding against the ache between my legs. I gasp at the contact, my fingers tightening on his hips, nails biting into his skin.
“Need you,” I groan, brushing his curls aside to kiss the back of his neck.
His eyes blink open, adjusting to the light. He rolls onto his back, and I seize the opportunity to climb on top of him. He looks up at me, teeth biting his lower lip, desire igniting in his gaze.
“You can have me,” he says.
My lips attach to his neck, kissing him greedily, biting and nipping at his skin. Our erections rock together between layers of fabric, each movement sparking more friction, more need. His hands roam down my back and slip beneath my T-shirt, tugging it upward. I let him peel it off, the cool morning air sweeping over my bare chest.
“Want you in my mouth,” I whisper against his neck.
A moan vibrates beneath my lips. “Please, baby.”
I trail kisses down his body, pausing at his bulging pecs to suck and tug on his nipples. My palms grope his chest, squeezing, feeling the solid muscles.
My kisses drift lower, down his absurdly perfect abs that spasm beneath me. I lick hungrily at his skin, sliding my tongue into the dips. My fingers curl around his waistband.
“Hold on,” Mason grumbles.
I pause as he disconnects his insulin pump and sets it aside. He spreads his legs wider, providing space for me to settle between them. Afterwards, he nods, giving the go ahead to tug down his boxers and free his hard cock.
No matter how many times I’ve seen my boyfriend’s dick, I’ll never get used to it.
A single bulging vein wraps around it. My hand stretches to engulf his girth as I stroke him. Precome beads at the glistening tip, and I lean down to lap it up, eyes rolling back as the taste overwhelms me.
He groans, hands flying to grip my hair.
I lick a single thick stripe along his cock, from the head down to his balls. My nose rubs against him to inhale the delicious heady scent. I mouth at the base of his shaft, flicking my tongue.
