Page 45 of Such a Feral Little Lamb
I’m smearing pre-cum over his skin, close even after a few seconds, but Mason doesn’t seem to mind. Dark eyes flick between my face and my cock, and every time, his own twitches between his thighs, drooling pre-cum between my legs.
“Mason. I’m gonna—”
He pulls his leg back all at once and I let out a desperate keen, back arching. Mason strokes his fingers over my ribs.
“Fuck, I’m sorry,” I mutter.
He takes my cock in a sudden, tight grip. My hips buck, but his fingers are squeezing so hard that I know I won’t come.
“Don’t apologise,” he bites out. Anger laces his voice, and it only makes me want to move again. “I want to see you come, Isaac. I want to see it over and over again.”
“I—”
He leans his face close. There’s something dangerous in his expression, and all it does is make my cock jerk in his grip. “I want to keep you right here,” he growls, and fuck, I know hemeansit. “I want you in my bed all the time. Ready for me. Waiting for me. Like you might die if you don’t have me.”
I gasp, a ragged, sucked-in breath that somehow sounds terribly desperate. “I will.” I can’t think of another answer. It’s the truth, words beating to the rhythm of my heart, echoed by every rush of blood through my veins.
Mason kisses me violently, possessively, and I moan and clutch at his shoulders as he pushes up and over me. We fall back onto the bed, and he doesn’t stop kissing me even as his hand is suddenly slick, even as he takes both our cocks in that firm grip.
I thrust against him. The slippery head of my cock bumps the underside of his and he bites my lower lip, tugging on it until I cry out. Fuck. I’ve never felt like this before. I don’t know that I could with anyone else. It’s been a handful of days, but Mason’swormed his way under my skin, and I don’t ever want to scrape him out again.
He attacks my throat, each touch of his mouth delivering a stinging bite, and he’s thrusting too now, pink spreading from his cheeks and over his pale chest. I reach down and grab his arse, and he bites me a little harder but doesn’t tell me to let go.
I think he’s as close as I am. My balls tingle, drawing up as the pleasure in my core coalesces into something that’s going to ruin me. Mason sucks a mark below my collarbone, then lifts his head.
“You first, little lamb,” he murmurs against my mouth. He moves his hand faster, flicks his thumb over the head of my cock, and the last thread of restraint I was clinging to snaps.
My hips jerk up and I come with a wail that sounds vaguely like Mason’s name. He keeps moving against me, stroking me even as pleasure shudders through me like lightning, burning away any other thoughts, any other feelings except forthis.
Mason watches me, gaze never moving, and when my vision clears, he speeds up again. He’s still got a grip on my cock, and I whimper because it’s too much. I don’t want him to stop. He grins like he knows it and then his expression goes slack, and he lets out a low groan.
Cum spills onto my stomach, creating a pool that’s a mix of both of us. It trickles down to my sides. Mason pants and rests his forehead against mine.
For a moment, we’re both quiet. We just breathe, simply share space.
He opens his eyes, and I kiss him gently, even a soft touch of lips sending a shiver through me. Mason deepens it, kisses me long and slow, and when he’s done, he drops on his back next to me, our shoulders pressed together.
“Fuck,” I mutter. I don’t know what else to say. I don’t want to say we shouldn’t have done it because we both know that, Ithink, but we decided to do it anyway. I don’t want to say we should do it again because I really do have to go and do my job at some point, and if I stay down here too long, the others will come looking.
Mason kisses my temple. “Are you all right?”
I get the impression he doesn’t ask that very often. He doesn’t often care.
I grin, wide and honest, and he smiles back. “Yeah.” Despite it all, there’s no keeping the giddiness from my voice.
Sweat cools on our bodies and after a few minutes, Mason gets up and strides over to the other room. He returns with a wet cloth and wipes me down, gentle and attentive. My heart swoops up into my throat.
Focus. Work. Otto. Zombies.
Mason goes back into the other room with the cloth, and I get to my feet—legs shaking—and start to dress. I pull my underwear on, then my trousers, and as I pull them over my hips, I catch Mason watching me from the archway.
I raise an eyebrow in question. That same danger from earlier flashes in his eyes.
“I shouldn’t let you go out there at all.”
“Oh no?”
“There’s enough room for us both down here. I could keep you tied to the bed. Have my desperate little lamb bleating for me.”
