Page 50 of Such a Feral Little Lamb
“Thank you.”
I duck my head so he can’t see the blush on my cheeks. I don’t think it matters if he can see it or not. He sighs when I tug off one boot, then the other, and then draws me up for a short kiss.
My hands rest on his thighs, fingers pressing against muscle. That thread of want I felt yesterday morning still quivers inside me, but I’m tired too, and when our mouths part, I stifle a yawn.
Mason laughs. “Come on, little lamb,” he murmurs. “Get into bed.”
When he stands, it’s clear he won’t climb in first, even when I fix him with a scowl. He merely shrugs as if to say he can, andwill, remain in this standoff until the sun comes up.
“What if someone comes in here?”
Mason scoffs. “They wouldn’t dare.”
I don’t know if I believe that, even though Mason’s voice tells me I should. Still, I give in and climb under the duvet, then press my back against the wall. It’s a tight fit, two grown men in this single bed, but Mason wraps himself around me, hitching a leg over my thighs before he tucks his face against my throat.
“Why were you outside tonight?” I murmur.
Mason blew out the candle before he climbed into bed, and the darkness is a velvet comfort.
“I like the quiet,” he says, words ringing hollow.
“Do you want me here, then?”
He scoffs and somehow manages to wriggle closer. One hand slips under my T-shirt, fingers splaying over my spine. “Of course. You wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”
His breathing evens out and sleep begins to cloud my thoughts. The last clear thing on my mind is that I don’t think he’s just referring to me being in his bed.
I think he’s talking about me being in this town at all.
I wake sometime later to the feel of Mason’s hips moving against mine. I push back against him, still in that hazy state between sleep and wakefulness, and when he takes my mouth in a fierce kiss, I groan.
He bites my lower lip and shoves his hand down the back of my jogging bottoms. I push his T-shirt up, desperate to dig my teeth in. We struggle for a moment, neither of us willing to let go, the rustle of clothes and sheets the only sound in the pitch-black room aside from our panting breaths.
“Fuck,” Mason hisses and takes his hands off me to drag his T-shirt off himself. I whine when he’s not touching me, the darkness convincing me he’s so far away. Mason grabs my face and misses my mouth, kissing my cheek first. I thrust my hips forward. He grunts and gets my mouth this time, attacking me with teeth and tongue.
“Mason,” I murmur between kisses. My hands explore his torso, fingers skidding over the scar I catalogued yesterday before I tease his nipples. He growls again and pushes me onto my back, fitting his hips better against mine.
“Did you get—” I whisper, and he groans.
“No. Not yet. Fuck.” He reaches into my jogging bottoms and curls his fingers around my cock. I keen and arch up into his touch. He’s gentle, teasing, and I want more. I want that bite of pain from before. I want his marks, proof that he’s touching me, that hewantsme.
Mason teases me with slow, gentle strokes and I tremble beneath him. I kiss and lick every inch of skin I can reach, letting out a sigh when he shifts and moves up so I can work my way down his torso. He groans when I suck one of his nipples into my mouth, teasing the little bud until he growls and drags my head back.
“That mouth…” he murmurs.
“Fill it.”
His hand tightens around my cock, just for a second. My length is slick with pre-cum, sweat prickling my hairline and the back of my neck. Without being able to see anything, all I can take in is what we’re doing—our panting breaths, each not-so-gentle touch, the smell of him and me that’s becoming sharper with each second that passes.
“Are you sure, little lamb?” His tight grip on my hair loosens and he slides his hand down and around, thumb stroking over my cheekbone.
“Yes.” The word comes out as a whine and Mason swears under his breath before he climbs off me. I hear him strip off his clothes but remain where I am, faintly trembling as I try to hold still. I think he wants me to obey.
For the first time in my life, Iwantto obey, too.
Mason makes a pleased sound when he climbs back on the bed, this time straddling my chest. I stroke my hands up his thighs, reaching around to cup the swell of his arse. He runs his fingers down my jaw and then back to my mouth.
“Open up.”
