Page 43 of Such a Feral Little Lamb
Everything else falls away. There’s nothing else in this world but us.
Chapter Fourteen
Masonpushes,shovingmyback against the table and the bowl resting there. Water sloshes over the rim, warm now rather than hot, but I tear my mouth from his and hiss through my teeth all the same.
He doesn’t look repentant at all. He moves his mouth to my jaw, licking along four days’ worth of stubble. His hands tug my T-shirt from my trousers and then slide beneath. I tip my head back and pant. “Mason.”
He blinks up at me, pupils so blown that his eyes are almost black. “Isaac,” he replies, and my name in that tone makes my hips jerk.
I should stop him. We should part and go back up into the church. I need to wait for Otto. We need to destroy all the zombies here.
I take his hand and slip out from between him and the table. Mason watches me in silence, though he follows when I gently tug, steps quiet as we walk all the way over to the bed.
It’s pushed up against the furthest wall and isn’t really big enough for two, but I don’t care. I sit down and spread my thighs, and Mason steps between them without me asking him to. He lets go of my hand to gently cup my face in both hands.
“Do you want me, little lamb?”
That shiver runs through me again. Despite everything, his hands are still cool against my skin.
“Yes.” The word comes out so quietly, but his fingers dig in, and I know he hears it.
“Good. I’ve wanted you since the moment I set eyes on you.”
I gasp into our next kiss, the ferocity of it. The first was fast and clumsy, but now Mason tips my head back where he wants it and licks into my mouth with ease. I groan when he sucks on my tongue. I want more. Deeper. I want him seared on me, inside and out, want that fire to fuel me just like it does him.
He shifts to kneel on the bed, straddling my lap, and my hands drop to his hips to hold him in place. His hands might be cold, but his body is heavy and warm, pinning me in place. Mason slows the kiss and inhales sharply before he presses his tongue to the roof of my mouth. I buck up against him.
He pulls back a little way and his eyes only darken at the sight of me. I can hardly catch my breath. I want to feel him, want to drag off his clothes, but…
“What are you thinking?” he murmurs. One hand slides around to the back of my neck. The other plays with the tear in my T-shirt, fingertips occasionally brushing the skin beneath.
“I want to touch you.”
“You’re welcome to.”
“Mason.”
He grins, showing all his teeth before he kisses me again. This one is shorter but no less passionate, and I grip his hips more tightly.
“Mason,” I breathe again once we part.
“Tell me.”
“I want you naked.”
The words are bold. My entire life, this—sex—has been hidden and rushed, kept to dark shadows or stolen moments and never, ever allowed to linger. I know we don’t have all the time in the world here. It still feels different.Masonwants to take his time and so do I.
He brushes his lips against mine and gets to his feet. A strange whine escapes my throat, but when I go to stand, he rests one hand in the centre of my chest.
“You want me naked. I want you to watch.”
“O-okay.”
Mason smiles again and shrugs his coat off his shoulders, letting it pool on the floor. He’s wearing a dark shirt beneath, buttoned to just below his sharp collarbones, and a pair of dark trousers that are absolutely moulded to his thighs.
He turns his back to me, and I frown, then almost swallow my tongue when he bends at the hips to unfasten his boots. I already know he’s mostly muscle underneath those clothes, but I can’t tear my eyes away from the swell of his arse, and when he wiggles his hips, I realise he knows it, too.
“Like what you see?” A barely suppressed laugh threads through his voice.
