Page 60 of Man of Lies

Gently, I cupped his face with my hands, feeling the roughness of his stubble against my palms. “Are you sure?”

"I'm sure." His hands were already trembling with anticipation. “This is it for me, Silas.”

I swallowed hard. Part of me—hell, most of me—wanted to ignore everything else and just let this be ours. No strings. No complications.

But my nagging conscience pulled me back, reminding me of the mess I’d made between us. This wasn’t just about offering my body. It was about giving him something more. Something that mattered.

“Mason,” I croaked, stroking the shadows beneath his eyes with my thumbs. “I need to tell you something…about me.”

“No.” Mason’s fingers circled my wrists, stopping me gently but firmly. His gaze softened, like he was reading me in a way only he could. “Not now, Silas. I’m not a fool. I know you’ve been keeping secrets, but I don’t need them right now. I already trust you. I just needyou, with me, right now.”

I froze, stunned by the simplicity and depth of his trust. I needed to come clean, but Mason didn’t need that now. All he needed was me, present, with him.

The walls I’d built up so carefully over a lifetime of lies crumbled. With Mason, I wasn’t a man with secrets. I was a man finally giving all of himself.

“I’m here,” I whispered, cradling his hips. “All of me. Just for you.”

I reached down, my hand trembling slightly, and grasped the base of my cock to stand it up between us. Mason’s eyes locked with mine as he shifted, lining up and sinking slowly down on top of me. He wasn’t rushing—no, he was savoring this, throwing his head back and easing down, inch by slow inch, until he was fully seated. When he’d settled fully, warm and tight around me, he paused and blew out a shaking breath.

“You good, sweetheart?” I asked, stroking his quivering thighs.

His eyes were glassy with pleasure, and his smile was sweet. “Better than I’ve ever been.”

His rhythm was slow at first, rocking with careful grace. The way his body swayed over me, his hips rolling in gentle arcs, made everything in me tighten with need.

I planted my feet on the couch and canted my hips, but I couldn’t help much. I knew that. I couldn’t even thrust. Every movementsent a sharp pain slicing through my abdomen. I could only lie there, helpless, caught between the intensity of the pain and the overwhelming urge to give him everything he needed. But Mason didn’t seem to mind. His hands rested on my chest for balance as he set his pace. He was owning this, taking what he wanted—and I couldn’t stop him even if I wanted to.

His head tipped back, exposing the pale column of his throat and the pulse flickering beneath his jaw. His breath came faster, more erratic as he built up the pace, every movement of his hips taking him closer to that edge.

He was so fucking beautiful.

“God, Silas,” he breathed, voice hoarse and thick with desire. “You feel so good. So fucking good.”

I groaned, gripping Mason’s hips tighter as he rode me. His words fueled my desire, and I wanted nothing more than to please him.

“That’s it, baby,” I rasped. “Take what you need.”

Mason’s movements grew more urgent, his thighs tensing as he bounced up and down my length. His cock lay rigid against his belly, leaking precum that dripped onto my skin. I reached between us to stroke him in time with his frantic pace, eliciting a deep moan.

“Faster,” I growled between clenched teeth. “Mason, fuck me.”

His hands left my chest, gripping the back of the couch, and his elbows locked as he bore down on me. Faster, harder, he impaled himself without mercy, his breath coming in pants. It was exhilarating, watching this man—who’d never willinglyrelinquished control—drown in the pleasure he’d always been afraid to embrace.

The leather beneath us creaked with each powerful thrust, and the slap of his skin against mine sent a shiver down my spine. Sweat drenched his body, dripping from his temples, gleaming in the dim light.

Part of me expected to hear the elevator chime any minute, but even if Dominic walked in right then, I didn’t care. Nothing else existed but this connection. This surrender. This bond.

“That’s it, baby,” I purred, reveling in my power over him. “Ride me like you own me.”

His laugh was breathless and filled with delight. “I do.”

And damn it, he was right. In this moment, hedidown me. All of me. Every part of me—heart, body, and soul—was his. Unconditionally.

My climax built steadily as Mason increased his pace, taking me so deep, I swore I could see it in his belly. He was glistening above me, gripping my hips with those strong, runner thighs. I stroked his length firmly, fingers slick with precum, glorying in the way he began to pulse and throb.

“Silas,” he gasped, “I’m close?—”

“Let go, Mason,” I said hoarsely. “Come for me.”

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