Page 136 of Stuck with my Mechanic Daddies

Ethan’s thrusts turned punishing, relentless, his fingers finding my clit, pressing in slow, tight circles that sent sparks through my veins.

Mason groaned, his grip tightening on my chin. “That's it, baby. Let go.”

Owen’s hips snapped forward one last time, his breath shattering as he spilled into my mouth, a guttural groan ripping from his throat.

The taste of him, the heat of Ethan still driving into me, the low, dark growl from Mason as he watched. It was too much.

I shattered, my body locking up, pleasure consuming me in wave after endless wave.

Ethan cursed, his rhythm breaking as he followed, his hips stuttering, his moan dark and wrecked as he found his release.

For a moment, the only sound in the room was our harsh, ragged breathing. Then Mason’s fingers slid into my hair, tugging my head back just enough to meet his gaze.

His lips curled into a slow, wicked smile.

“You're not done yet, sweetheart.”

He shifted, pushing me onto my back, his body covering mine in an instant.

“You took them so well,” he murmured, his cock teasing at my entrance, still hard, still aching.

His breath fanned against my lips as he lined himself up, pressing just the tip inside, just enough to make me squirm.

“You ready for me?”

I groaned, arching into him. “Please.”

Mason’s grin was dark, victorious.

“That's my girl.”

And then he thrust deep.

And I was his.

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

Mason

I’ve never beengood at waiting. Patience was Ethan’s thing, not mine.

Me? I needed to move, to do something, to fix things with my own two hands.

But right now, all I could do was stand here in the sheriff’s office, feeling like a damn caged animal, while Davis and Hall sat behind their desks, looking like they had the weight of the world on their shoulders.

“We got him,” Davis said.

Two simple words, but they hit me like a punch to the gut.

“Hank?” I asked, my voice low, tight.

Hall nodded and turned the laptop around. “Yeah. We finally got the footage we needed.”

I stepped forward, my hands braced on the desk, my pulse hammering.

The screen flickered with grainy black and white footage from some security camera. A hooded figure moved through the frame, methodical, deliberate.

Even in the shitty resolution, I could see the destruction—windows smashed, spray paint dripping from the walls, chaos left in his wake.

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