“Yourtattoo,“ he says, brushing his thumb over the small of my back.
Oh, right. I’d honestly forgotten it was there. The tramp stamp—pink lines in the shape of a flower—had been a rushed decision two years ago during my post-breakup mental spiral. Derek said I needed a change, so I had it done.
“Um, I got it a couple years ago,” I mumble.
“What kind of flower is it?”
“Japanese cherry blossom.”
“Fuck,” he groans. “That’s so hot.”
I feel the head of his cock catch against my hole, slick and hot. My breath hitches.
“You ready?”
“Yes.”
He pushes in slowly, inch by inch. It feels like his dick is splitting me open in the best way possible. My hands clench desperately at the sheets, balling the fabric in my fists. The stretch burns as I bear down on him. My jaw clenches, a bead of sweat trickling down my forehead.
Mason stills, fully inside.
“You okay?” he asks. He gently rubs my hip, soothing me.
“Yeah,” I croak, eyes screwed shut. “Just—fuck. Keep going. Slowly.”
He eases forward as he reaches around my waist to stroke my cock. The sting dulls, and my body relaxes a little, adjusting to the sheer size of him. The pain and pleasure are tangled so tightly I can’t tell where one ends and the other begins. When I feel his hips flush against my ass, bottoming out, I let out a strangled sigh.
“God, you’re so big,” I grunt.
“Do you want to stop? I can pull out—“
“Don’t you fucking dare,” I groan, pushing back against him. “Fuck me, Mase.”
He lets go of my cock and grabs my hips with both hands, fingernails biting into my skin. He pulls out nearly all the way beforepushing forward again, torturously slow, drawing a broken moan out of my throat.
“More. Faster,” I beg.
He does it again, harder this time, and I hear the echoed smack of his sweat-damp skin against mine. He tunnels into me, fucking me into the mattress until I’m a blabbering, leaking mess.
“You’re sotight,“ Mason grits out. “So perfect for me.”
He pounds into me, each stroke nice and deep. I rock back to meet him halfway, gasping with each thrust. My whole body feels hot and raw, like my nerve endings are lit on fire.
The headboard thuds against the wall repeatedly. I’m sure it’ll leave a mark. God, I hope my parents still get their security deposit back.
My orgasm starts to coil inside of me, simmering low in my belly. I’m drooling on the sheets, legs trembling. Sex never felt this good before.
“You gonna come for me, Hunter?” Mason purrs.
“God, yes.”
He barely grazes my cock before it erupts. My hole tightens around him as waves of pleasure pulse through me. I come hard, streaking the sheets and Mason’s fingers with my sticky release.
“Fuck,” Mason moans, voice distant through the fog. “Can I come on your back?”
I nod shakily, too spent to form words.
He pulls out, tears off the condom, and strokes himself quickly. Seconds later, he’s moaning as hot spurts of his come land across my lower back. I arch into it instinctively, ass in the air, the mess dripping down my skin.
