Chapter 156
Harry
I don't even know how we got to the bed—we're just a mess of tangled limbs. Clothes gone, skin slick, breathless kisses dragging us from wall to floor to mattress.
I love it.
The way he moves—it's impossible to explain. Gentle and rough, like he's balancing on the edge of tearing me apart and worshipping me all at once. His hands grip me like he'll never let go, but every time I shudder he slows, gives me just enough to breathe, to adjust, before stealing it all away again.
His pheromones are everywhere, thick in the air, seeping into my skin until I'm dizzy.
I'm not even thinking straight anymore. Every thought gets tangled up in him, in the way his lips find my jaw, my neck, the sensitive spot under my ear that makes me whimper.
"Mason—" My voice breaks. It's too much, not enough, all at once.
"I've got you," he growls against my skin, and I believe him. I don't even care if it's reckless. I don't care if we're crossing lines we'll never come back from.
His chest drags against mine, slick with sweat, every brush of his nipples against mine sending sparks down my spine.
He moves between my legs, shoving them apart with his knee, and the contact has me losing my mind. The pressure, the angle—it sparks something low in my stomach, something I can't control.
I gasp, arching up into him, nails digging into his shoulders. Mason groans, a sound so deep and guttural it vibrates through his chest and into mine.
"God, Harry," he rasps, mouth dragging down my throat, leaving a trail of heat with every kiss and nip. "You feel—so—damn—perfect."
I can't answer. I can barely think. My thighs shake as he presses closer, his knee grinding up against me while his hands pin my wrists to the bed. His mouth finds my chest, lips closing around my nipple, and I cry out, helpless.
His hand leaves my waist and slides up over my stomach, rough fingertips grazing until they find my chest. He pinches my nipples between his fingers and I gasp, my whole back bowing off the bed. The sharp sting sparks low in my belly, and before I can recover, his other hand wraps firmly around my length.
"Ah—" The sound tears out of me, unguarded.
"That's it," Mason growls, his lips brushing hot against the side of my throat. "Come for me, sweetheart."
The words wreck me.
He strokes me once, twice—his thumb swiping over the tip with obscene precision—and I break apart. My vision whites out, stars bursting behind my eyes as I spill across his hand, my body convulsing against his chest. He holds me steady through it, strong arms bracing me while I shake and gasp, every nerve in me burning alive.
I collapse back against the sheets, boneless, trembling, barely able to breathe.
Mason kisses me once, twice, before lying beside me. Then he shifts, tugging me gently until my back presses against his chest. His body molds around mine, heat everywhere, and I can feel his hard length digging into the curve of my spine.
His arm hooks around my waist, pulling me flush against him.The contact is overwhelming. He slides his hand lower, skimming over the soft skin of my stomach before cupping me again, coaxing another shaky gasp out of my throat.
"Mason—" I whimper, too sensitive and too greedy all at once.
"Shhh," he murmurs against my ear, his voice rough, husky. His lips brush my jaw, my throat, then linger at the sensitive curve where my neck meets my shoulder. "It's okay."
He says, I'm not a virgin—I mean, Dorian was my first—but it's so different from what I know.
Dorian's pheromones would crash into me, drowning me, stripping me of control until my body didn't feel like mine anymore. But with Mason? It's not like that. With him, it's like falling—but falling happily. It's choosing to surrender. I know what's happening. I'm conscious. I'm not lost; I'm alive inside it.
It's all-consuming.
His hand slides lower, slow and deliberate, until his finger presses inside me. My breath stutters, body clenching tight around the intrusion.
"Look at you," he murmurs, his voice reverent, almost in awe. "So perfect for me."
My face burns. My fingers knot into the sheets, my chest heaving as I push back against his hand without meaning to. His lips ghost over my temple, then my cheek. The scrape of his teeth makes me shiver.
"Mason…" My voice cracks, already undone.
"Easy," he soothes, curling his finger just right.
Another slides in beside the first, stretching me open. My back arches into him, a soft cry spilling from my lips before I can stop it. His other hand settles at my chest, teasing over my nipples until I gasp, caught between too much sensation all at once.
"That's it," he whispers, his lips brushing the shell of my ear. "Just feel me."
I can't stop trembling. His pheromones are everywhere—warm, steady, grounding. His chest is firm against my back, every breath he takes shuddering through me. He feels so close, like he could swallow me whole and I'd thank him for it.
When his fingers finally leave me, I whimper at the emptiness. But he only pulls me tighter, his chest flush against my back as he shifts.
But he only pulls me tighter, his chest flush against my back as he shifts. The blunt head of his cock presses against me, and I tense instinctively.
"Breathe for me," he whispers, lips brushing the slope of my shoulder. His voice is low, rough, steady. "That's it. Just breathe."