Why did I think he’d be any less gentle with me?
I took a step, then another, and the mattress dipped under my weight as I perched on the edge. My T-shirt clung to my back from nervous sweat, jeans too tight around my thighs. Mason shifted closer, not touching yet, just close enough that I felt the heat radiating off his body. His gaze traced my face—my lips were parted, and I could feel the heat in my cheeks—and I wondered what he saw that made his gentle smile appear.
“You okay?” he asked, his thumb brushing the air an inch from my knee, waiting.
I nodded, my throat too tight for words. Talking was hard at the best of times, and even when I pulled the words out, they tore like barbs. So I leaned in, my hand hovering near his chest before pressing flat against his pec. His skin was warm, his heart thudding steadily under my palm. Coarse hair tickled myfingers. A shiver ran through me, not fear exactly, but the edge of it, and I fought the familiar instinct to flinch. Mason didn’t move. He let me explore, his nipple hardening under my thumb as I circled it slowly. The texture was pebbled, rougher than I’d expected, and I pressed harder. Mason inhaled sharply, the sound as loud as a shout in the silence.
When he finally shifted, he reached up slowly so that his fingers grazed my jaw. His touch was as soft as a breath. I froze, my gaze snapping to his, but there was nothing hungry or ravenous in his expression, just that deep, unwavering gaze that saw all the cracks in me and didn’t judge me for them.
“I’ve got you,” he whispered, tilting my chin up. Our lips met softly, and Mason’s mouth was warm and yielding. No beard burn, just the faint stubble scraping my chin as his tongue traced the seam of my lips.
I opened for him, my nerves fading as my arousal built. My cock twitched in my jeans, pressing painfully against the zipper, but I didn’t pull away.
Mason deepened the kiss gradually, one hand cupping the back of my neck, his fingers threading into my short hair without pulling. His other hand slid to my thigh, squeezing through denim. His thumb stroked in lazy circles. Heat pooled low in my gut, my breath hitching as his teeth nipped my lower lip, gentle and testing. I whimpered, the sound soft and involuntary, and he pulled back. He rested his forehead against mine, our noses brushing.
“We can stop whenever you want.” His breath was hot against my lips.
I knew he was completely serious. I could bring everything to a screeching halt with a single word if I wanted to.
But Ididn’twant to.
I was here because I trusted Mason, and I’d asked for this. And sure, my nerves were rattling like spoons in a drawer, andthere was no guarantee I wouldn’t change my mind, but for now I was exactly where I wanted to be.
My words failed like they always did but, for once, my courage didn’t. I shook my head and pushed Mason back, climbing onto his lap. I straddled his hips and felt the thick ridge of his cock nestle against my ass through our clothes, solid and insistent. The friction sent sparks up my spine, and my own dick throbbed in response. Mason’s hands settled on my hips, not gripping, just holding. His thumbs dipped under the hem of my shirt and skimmed the bare skin at my sides. Goose bumps erupted in the wake of his touch, and I shivered.
Mason tugged at my shirt hem, his gaze holding mine in an unasked question. I nodded, lifting my arms, and he peeled the shirt off me and tossed it aside. Cool air hit my chest, and my nipples tightened instantly. Mason’s gaze dropped, discovering the faint scar across my ribs that I thought was from Dad’s belt buckle. I couldn’t remember exactly. There was a lot I couldn’t remember from back then, and I didn’t try too hard to find those memories. Especially not now.
Mason didn’t flinch. Instead, his fingers traced the line of the scar, his touch featherlight, and then he leaned in to press an open-mouthed kiss to my throat. The wet heat and the unexpected scrape of his teeth made me arch toward him, a gasp tearing from my throat.
My hands fisted in his hair, tugging at the bun until thick strands of his dark hair tumbled free. I liked him like this, scruffy and messy. I twined my fingers through Mason’s hair while his mouth moved lower, from my throat to my chest. He sucked one of my nipples into his mouth, tongue pushing hard against the peak. His hand spanned my back, holding me steady while I squirmed, overwhelmed with new sensations. The suction pulled a moan from deep inside, vibration hummingthrough my chest and heading straight to my cock. Precum dampened my boxers, the sticky warmth spreading.
Mason switched sides, teeth grazing the other nipple, and his hips rocked up once, grinding his cock against my ass. The pressure was perfect, the denim of my jeans rasping against the soft fabric of his sweatpants, but he stopped before I was ready. His hands stilled.
“Keep going?” he asked me.
Yes.
I ground down, nodding frantically and chasing the friction. Mason groaned, the sound low. He worked my fly open. He tugged it down slowly, deliberately, each tooth of the zipper rasping in the silence. Then he peeled the jeans down my thighs. My boxer briefs tented obscenely, the wet spot blooming like a dark shadow on the fabric. I kicked them off awkwardly, socks snagging, limbs everywhere, until at last I was sitting naked on Mason’s lap.
I was exposed and vulnerable, and it should have been the most terrifying moment of my life, but somehow it wasn’t. My old fears bubbled to the surface for a second, but I pushed them firmly back down, and it was easier than I’d expected. Because Mason was here with me, and even though he was gazing at me with an intensity that made me feel like he could see my very soul, his expression was as gentle as always.
Mason was safe.
He held my hips, encouraging me up onto my knees. For a moment I didn’t know why. Then he let go of my hips and I realized he was squirming out of his sweatpants. When he settled me back down onto his thighs again, I could see his cock. It was thick and flushed deep red, with a bead of precum glistening at the slit. It was bigger than I’d imagined, curving slightly toward his belly.
For a moment I was scared, and the fear flickered like static in the back of my mind—too much, too new—but Mason kissed me again, the taste of him reassuring and arousing all at once. Then he pulled me down on top of him, our bare cocks sliding together, slick skin on skin. The heat of us together was like nothing I’d felt before, and I bucked involuntarily, the friction sending jolts of electricity through my balls.
“Easy,” Mason soothed. He wrapped one hand loosely around both our cocks, stroking slowly.
His grip was firm but not too tight, our precum enabling the messy glide of our bodies moving together. The scent hit me—musky and sharp—and I nuzzled Mason’s neck, licking the salt there. His pulse jumped under my tongue. We rocked together like that, his free hand roaming my back, his fingers dipping into the dimples above my ass, kneading tense muscles. Every touch lingered, his fingers pressing into knots until I melted against him.
I wanted inside him, or him in me—the mechanics didn’t matter, just the connection. But I was so new at this that I didn’t know what I was doing or how to ask for something else. I rolled onto my back, bringing Mason with me so that he was on top. He kissed me again, hungry this time, his tongue pushing into my mouth in shallow thrusts while his hand pumped our cocks faster. Wet sounds filled the room.
My cock throbbed, and suddenly I knew what I wanted. I just had to ask.
“Want you in me,” I whispered.
Mason’s eyes widened, and then he leaned down and trailed a line of kisses down my throat, sucking marks that would bruise tomorrow. His stubble scraped my collarbone, then my chest.
