Page 4 of Mason

"Let's go say hi." Jenny smiles, guiding me through the storm. Her confidence is infectious, and for a moment, I borrow it like a cloak of armor.

As we push through the crowd, I try to steady my racing heart. With every step, the anticipation coils tighter, a spring ready to snap. What will this night hold?

Mason's stare never wavers, watching our approach with an intensity that speaks of danger and promises adventure. My heart is racing and my body shakes with anticipation.

"Ready?" Jenny asks, squeezing my hand.

"Ready." The word feels foreign on my tongue, but I let it carry me forward.

We reach their table, standing at the edge of a new world. His eyes meet mine again, and I feel it – the spark, the connection, the beginning of something wild.

"Hi," I manage, voice steady despite the tremor inside.

"Hi," he echoes, a hint of a smile touching his lips.

Perdition rages on around us, but at that moment, it fades into the background. There's only the fire in his eyes and the unknown path stretching out before us. The man is sex on a stick! Tall, muscular, dark hair with a sprinkling of gray, and a beard I’d die to run my fingers through. He’s so different than anyone I’ve ever been with. For the first time in my entire life, I don’t want to second guess my decisions, I want to run into the storm no matter the consequences.

THREE

MASON

She walks in,and damn if everything doesn't just... stop. Like someone hit pause on the chaos of Perdition and all I see is her—this angel stepping into my world. She looks lost but there's a spark there, something that tells me she's got more fire than she lets on. The whole damn world tilts on its axis. Looking like a ray of fucking sunshine that got lost on its way to the valley and stumbled into Perdition. My eyes stick to her like they have no business doing anything else. She’s short and thick, curves in all of the places that make my dick hard. Her long blond hair would look perfect wrapped around my fist as I fucked her hard from behind.

"Pres," Dagger nudges me, his voice a low rumble. But I barely hear him over the blood pounding in my ears. My gaze locks onto her and it's like I'm seeing color for the first time in years.

"Who's the doll?" Dagger's brow lifts, eyes following mine.

"Don't know," I mutter, muscles tensing up as I watch her weave through the crowd toward me. My fingers curl around the neck of my beer bottle, knuckles going white. There's a pull inmy gut, some primal instinct that's got me ready to stand up and stake a claim.

"Looks like trouble," Dagger grins, tossing back his drink.

"Maybe," I say, but there's a part of me that's already decided. Trouble or not, she's the kind I've been waiting for.

"Pres," Dagger laughs beside me, his voice cutting through the noise like a knife. "You're staring holes into the poor girl. Gonna burn her up before she even gets a taste."

"Shut it," I snap, but there's no bite. Dagger's seen me with women, but this—this is different. Can't explain it. Don't want to.

"Never took you for one to get hooked at first sight." He leans back, arms crossed, that smug smirk playing on his lips. “Careful, or you’ll scare her off.”

DAGGER

Mason's tough as nails, but this girl's got him twisted up inside in a matter of minutes. I see it clear as day. It's something else watching Mr. Untouchable lose his cool.

"Delicate flower for a rough place like this," I muse, sipping my beer. "Let’s hope she doesn’t wilt."

"Enough," Mason grunts, but his eyes betray him, flicking back to her.

A new song blares through Perdition, the thrum of bass vibrating the floor beneath my boots. But as the woman steps closer, I can tell—Mason's got more on his mind than club and code. And hell, maybe that isn't such a bad thing.

CARLIE

Jenny nudges me closer, her grin all challenge and thrill. Across the bar, leather-clad titans loom, their laughter booming over the music's growl. Smoke curls around them like a protective shroud, but it's their eyes—sharp as switchblades—that pin us under the spotlight.

"Ready for this?" Jenny's voice is a lifeline tossed in a stormy sea.

"Guess so," I mutter, though my heart's pounding a rhythm against my ribs that screams otherwise.

We take those final steps, closing the distance to their table. The floor beneath my boots vibrates with the bass of old rock, each thud matching my pulse. I can almost touch the anticipation; it zings through the air, electric and alive.

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