Page 21 of Stalked

The scent of Toby's arousal hung heavy in the air: sharp, sweet, unmistakable. It called to something ancient and predatory in Mason's blood. He'd waited long enough. Watched long enough. Those secret posts Toby thought were private, the ones with captions about rough hands and firm grips, about being held down and taken—Mason had committed every one to memory.

He knew what Toby wanted. What Tobyneeded.

Mason reached forward, wrapping his hand around Toby's throat—not squeezing, just holding him there with gentle pressure, his thumb resting over Toby's pulse point where he could feel the frantic beating of his heart.

The effect was immediate and unmistakable. Toby's eyes widened, pupils swallowing the iris until only the thinnest ring of color remained. His lips parted on a silent gasp, and his cock, already painfully hard, visibly twitched, a fresh bead of precome gathering at the tip.

Gotcha, Mason thought, a slow, predatory grin spreading across his face. The sight of Toby responding so honestly, so viscerally, to his touch sent a fresh surge of arousal through him. No more games. No more teasing. It was time to claim what was his.

"Up," Mason commanded.

Toby stood on shaky legs, his body trembling slightly—from the chill of the night air or from need, Mason couldn't be sure. Perhaps both. His naked form was beautiful in the moonlight, all lean muscle and smooth skin, marred only by the occasional freckle or mole that Mason found himself wanting to trace with his tongue.

With deliberate movements, Mason guided Toby backward until the backs of his thighs met the fallen log that had been waiting there like nature's own altar. With a gentle but firm pressure on Toby's shoulders, Mason directed him to lie back, positioning him along the moss-covered trunk.

Toby complied, his breath coming in short, anticipatory bursts as he settled onto his back, the moonlight painting his skin silver and shadow.

"Here we go, pretty boy," Mason murmured, the wolf inside him pacing restlessly, urging him to pounce, to claim, totake. He ignored its desperate howling, lifting Toby with deliberate care, enjoying the surprised gasp when his strength made the boy's weight seem like nothing.

Mine, the wolf snarled as Mason arranged Toby across the log like a sacrifice, supporting his head with one hand while positioning him with the other.Mate. Claim. NOW.

Patience, Mason answered silently, his jaw clenching with the effort of restraint. The best hunts were slow. Thorough. He'd waited this long—he could wait a little longer to savor every moment.

He stepped back just enough to admire his handiwork: Toby's back arched slightly over the curved surface, legs spread wide, everything on display. The position left nothing hidden, offering Toby up not just to Mason's hungry gaze but to the watchful eyes lurking at the edges of the clearing.

Let them look. Let them see what they can never have.

A delicate blush had overtaken Toby's skin, spreading from his high cheekbones down the elegant column of his throat. His cock lay rigid against his stomach, the tip glistening, pulsing visibly with each frantic beat of his heart.

And all the time, his eyes were on Mason, drinking him in.

God, he's gorgeous.Mason smiled, slow and predatory. He had all night, and he intended to use every minute of it.

A bead of sweat rolled down Toby's neck. Mason tracked its path with burning eyes, drinking in every detail of the boy sprawled before him. That delicate collarbone. Those peaked nipples. The gentle rise and fall of his chest. The slight tremor in his thighs. His cock, hard and leaking against his stomach.

"Perfect," Mason growled. His hands roamed Toby's body, claiming every inch. "Look at you. So beautiful like this."

Toby's skin flushed even pinker under the attention, the color spreading down his chest. Mason traced the blush with his fingers, savoring how Toby shivered at his touch.

"You have no idea how much I've wanted this. Wanted you." Mason's voice dropped lower, rougher. "Ever since I first caught your scent in that office. And now everyone can see that you belong to me."

"I don'tbelongto anyone," Toby shot back, but his defiant words were undermined by the way he arched into Mason's touch, seeking more contact. "And if you've wanted me that badly, what the hell took you so long to do something about it?"

Mason's eyes flashed, a dangerous smile spreading across his face. He leaned in, one hand sliding up to grip Toby's jaw. "Because good things come to those who wait."

The watchers in the shadows shifted restlessly in the gloom, their desire thick in the air. Mason paid them no mind.

He started at Toby's throat, his tongue gliding over the soft skin. The taste of salt and fear mingled with a hint of something sweeter, something uniquely Toby. He licked a slow path down to the hollow of Toby's throat, feeling the pulse quicken under his touch.

Toby's breathing hitched, a quiet gasp escaping his lips as Mason lowered his head. The hot press of Mason's mouth against his collarbone sent electricity racing down his spine.

"You have no idea how long I've dreamed about tasting every inch of you," Mason murmured against his skin, voice rough with desire. "Every. Single. Inch."

Mason's mouth moved with deliberate slowness down Toby's body, mapping him with lips and tongue like he was memorizing territory. He found the hollow of Toby's throat, the curve where neck met shoulder, the flat plane of his chest—each spot claimed with a kiss, a lick, a gentle scrape of teeth that left Toby gasping.

When Mason's tongue circled one nipple, then the other, Toby's back arched involuntarily, his body responding with a mind of its own. Mason took his time, sucking each to a hard peak, the gentle pressure intensifying until Toby couldn't stop the moan that tore from his throat.

"That's it," Mason encouraged, his breath hot against the sensitive skin. "Let me hear you."

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