Page 17 of Stalked

What the hell is wrong with me? Why am I even harder now?

Mason's lips brushed Toby's ear. "Can't you? Isn't that exactly what you've been doing? Showing off that gorgeous body, letting strangers see how desperate you are to be touched?" His teeth grazed Toby's earlobe. "Only difference is now they can smell how much you want it."

Mason was right, and the realization hit Toby like a punch to the gut. How many nights had he spent carefully angling his camera, making sure the lighting highlighted every sensitive spot on his body? How many times had he gotten off knowing nameless strangers were watching him, wanting him?

But this was different. These were real people, real eyes—right here. Real judgment.

"They're not judging you," Mason said, as if reading Toby's thoughts. His voice softened for just a moment, something almost tender crossing his face. "They're envying me."

Something about the absolute certainty in Mason's voice broke through Toby's hesitation. And maybe he was right. Maybe this was no different from what Toby had been doing all along—only more honest. More real.

Fuck it, Toby thought.If I'm going to do this, I might as well commit.

He reached down, tugging his shirt over his head in one decisive movement. The night air raised goosebumps across his skin, his nipples hardening in the cool breeze. "Fine," he said, trying for nonchalant despite his racing heart. "You want a show? Let's give them one."

Mason's growl of approval vibrated through Toby as he kicked off his jeans completely, standing naked in the moonlight. Exposed. Vulnerable.

And somehow, powerful.

I'm in control, Toby realized with a jolt of clarity.He's the one who's been watching, waiting, wanting. I'm the one who gets to decide if he gets a taste.

The thought was heady, intoxicating. For all Mason's dominance, all his strength and power and years of experience, hewantedToby. And that gave Toby a power of his own.

Toby reached out, his hand finding Mason's cock. It was like touching fire—hot and thick and alive in his palm. He'd never touched another man before, had only ever fantasized about it during his most private moments.

Mason's cock was substantial—long and thick, with a prominent vein running along the underside that pulsed beneath Toby's exploring fingers. The head was flushed and glistening, broader than the shaft, and when Toby's thumb brushed over it, Mason's entire body tensed in response. Even fully hard, the skin was velvet-soft over steel, a contradiction that made Toby want to explore every inch.

Holy shit, Toby thought, a wave of dizziness washing over him.I'm actually touching a cock. A real cock. Mason Blackwood's cock.

And the rest of Mason was just as impressive. In the moonlight, his powerful body seemed carved from marble—broad shoulders tapering to a narrow waist, muscles defined by years of physical dominance rather than gym routine. His chest was dusted with dark hair that silvered at the center, a trail leading down his flat stomach to where Toby's hand now gripped him.

"Jesus," he breathed, wrapping his fingers around Mason. The size of him, the weight—it was nothing like touching himself. It was better. Hotter. More real.

Mason's rhythm faltered for just a second as Toby's hand started to move. "Fuck," he ground out. "Your hands."

A grin tugged at the corner of Toby's mouth. For someone so composed, so in control, Mason seemed surprisingly affected by Toby's inexperienced touch. It was... empowering.

"What about them?" Toby asked, deliberately tightening his grip as he stroked upward.

"Perfect," Mason said, his voice strained. "Just like I knew they would be."

There was something heady about knowing he affected Mason, that his touch could make Mason's control slip, even for a moment. Toby experimented with pressure, with speed, learning what made Mason's breathing change, what drew those delicious sounds from his throat.

I'm doing this, Toby thought, wonder threading through his arousal.I'm making a man like Mason Blackwood lose his composure.

Mason's hand never stopped working Toby's cock, his other arm wrapped around Toby's waist, holding him against Mason's body. They moved together, finding a rhythm that had them both panting. The slick sound of skin on skin filled the clearing, punctuated by their ragged breathing.

The watching eyes no longer felt threatening to Toby—they felt like validation.Look at who wants me. Look at who I'm making lose control. The alpha, the businessman, the father of my bully—he's the one who can't keep his hands off me.

"Such a natural," Mason murmured, his voice a dark caress against Toby's neck. "So perfect for me."

A shiver raced down Toby's spine at the praise. He'd always been starved for recognition—the scholarship kid who'd clawed his way into an elite university, always feeling he had to prove himself. And now Mason was looking at him like he was something precious, something worthy.

It's just sex, Toby tried to remind himself, the familiar armor of cynicism sliding into place.Just biology. He'd say the same things to anyone. He doesn't actually see you. No one does.The thoughts came automatically, protective barriers built over years of disappointment and rejection, walls designed to keep hope at bay before it could take root and eventually wither—

Mason's mouth found Toby's neck, biting down on the sensitive juncture where it met his shoulder. The sharp sting of pain mixed with pleasure had Toby crying out, his cock leaking heavily over Mason's fingers. The sensation cut through his spiraling thoughts like a knife, silencing the defensive voice in his head and leaving only raw, undeniable need in its place.

And he was needy. The dual sensation of Mason's hand on his cock and Mason's cock in his grip was pushing Toby toward the edge faster than he wanted to admit. It was humiliating how little it took—Mason had barely touched him, and already Toby was ready to come.

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