“You feel so fucking tight, baby,” he rasps, breath hot against my ear. “Can’t wait till we’re living together. Gonna fuck you like this every day. You’re taking me so damn well—so good for me.”
The praise makes my cock throb. God, I always want to be goodfor him.
Mason looms over my back until his mouth finds the crook of my neck, biting down hard. His teeth sink into my skin, sharp and deliberate, before he sucks hard enough to make me whimper. The sting feels so damn good. I want him to leave a bruise, something that lingers after he’s gone back to Claremont Shores, proof etched into my skin that I belong to him.
He fucks me harder, deeper, pounding into me as the bed rattles. Every thrust sends sparks shooting through me, hot pulses lighting me up. It’s different without a layer of latex between us—justhim, raw and desperate, clinging to me like he can’t get close enough.
My balls feel heavy, my dick aching as the pressure builds fast. He hammers into my prostate with perfect precision, and it’s too much. I’m trembling beneath him, overtaken by the sensation of his cock ramming inside me.
My orgasm slams through me without warning. I cry out, spilling onto my stomach in thick ropes, untouched. My arms give out, my chest heaving.
“Hunter, did you just—” Mason chokes on a groan. “Oh, fuck. Baby, I love you so much.”
With a final thrust, he buries himself deep, spilling hot inside me. I whimper, pushing back weakly, greedy for every drop as he fills me.
He slumps against me, whispering sweet nothings in my ear, his lips trailing light kisses over my damp skin. His come leaks out of me, dribbling down my thighs.
When he finally pulls out, I whine at the loss. His thumb brushes my sensitive rim, then presses gently, pushing some of the slickness back inside me. I hide my face in my elbow with a helpless whimper.
“Fuck,” he marvels, tracing my entrance. “Look at you… full of me.”
He falls beside me, tugging me into his chest. I bury my face between his pecs, breathing in the husky mix of sweat, cologne, and skin. I want to drown in it.
Eventually, Mason peels himself off me with a reluctant groan and tugs his boxers back on. The mattress shifts as his weight leaves it, springs creaking. I blink, eyes heavy, and watch him pad barefootacross the room. A moment later, the bathroom faucet sputters to life. When he returns, he’s holding a damp cloth in one hand.
“C’mere,” he says softly.
Too content to protest, I let him wipe me down. He’s gentle as he cleans my stomach, his touch unhurried. He slowly works his way between my legs, wiping the leaking come between my thighs. My softened cock jumps when he cleans my hole, wincing with oversensitivity.
When he goes to toss the rag in the hamper, something makes him stop. He bends down, squinting at the tall plant near the window, his brows rising at the little wooden marker tucked in the soil.
“This new?” he asks, glancing back at me.
I prop myself up on my elbows. “Yeah. I bought it last week. It’s a dwarf Meyer lemon tree.”
He reads the marker again and huffs a laugh. “You named it MasonBark?”
A smirk pulls at my lips. “Get it? Bark, like a tree? Because it sounds like Burke?”
“That’s horrible,” he deadpans.
“No, it’s amazing,” I insist, sitting up and stubbornly crossing my arms. “I’m a sucker for a good plant pun.”
He shakes his head, grinning as he looks back at the plant. “You’re such a dork.”
I pull him closer by the waistband of his boxers. When he leans down, I kiss him slowly, savoring the taste of his smile.
“Well, the plant is a lot like you,” I murmur against his mouth.
“Oh yeah?” he teases. “How so?”
I trail my fingers up his side, lingering over the curve of his ribs. “Tall. Sturdy.” My eyes flick toward the broad leaves stretching toward the ceiling. “And it’s a fruit tree.”
He squints at me. “Is that supposed to be a gay joke?”
“Maybe,” I say with a grin.
He groans and buries his face against my neck. “You’re ridiculous. I can’t believe you named your plant after me.”
