Page 128 of Twisted Trails
I reach for the hem of his jersey and tug, wordlessly telling him what I want. He gets it immediately and pulls the fabric over his head, muscles flexing. I help him peel off the chest guard next, my fingers brushing over soft skin, and then his pants and padded boxers follow, sliding down his thighs in one fluid motion.
He stands there tall, lean, and utterly beautiful.
My gaze drifts over every inch of him—his defined chest, the curve of his hipbones, the dark trail of hair leading down his stomach to the thick length of his cock. My thighs clench at the sight of him, and I feel how wet I am from the orgasm he just gave me.
I sit down on my bunk, drinking him in with my eyes. “You’re beautiful.”
He pauses mid-step, blinking like he didn’t expect that.
“No, seriously.” I grin, biting my bottom lip as I reach out and run my fingertips over the lines of his chest,lingering where his heart pounds strongly beneath my touch. “Luc’s right. Youarea pretty boy.”
He narrows his eyes, amusement flickering in them as he pushes me onto my back, then dips his head low and nips at my nipple in retaliation.
I gasp, body jerking under his mouth. “Mason.”
“That’s what you get,” he mutters, his smirk brushing against my skin.
Then he shifts again, bracing himself as he climbs into the bunk and over me. His body covers mine, caging me in without making me feel trapped. His hands slide down to my thighs, and he spreads them apart, guiding them open with possessive care. I let them fall wide for him, my breath catching the second I feel the blunt head of his cock brush against my still-swollen pussy.
His eyes find mine, and everything stops as he cups my face, cradling it with both hands, and the way he looks at me, full of things he hasn’t said out loud, hits me so hard I forget how to breathe.
Like he’s baring his whole soul.
Every scar.
Every quiet hope.
Every jagged, bleeding piece of himself.
And I meet him there. No hiding. No mask.
I let it all show, every ounce of trust I’ve fought to rebuild, every drop of longing I’ve tried to swallow, the love that’s been curling in my chest since the night he looked at me like I wasn’t broken at all.
He nudges forward, and I gasp as he pushes inside, stretching me, filling me, never once breaking eye contact. His brows pinch slightly as he settles into me with a deep groan, and my nails dig into his back, trying to ground myself in the flood of sensation.
He starts moving with slow, deep thrusts, but it’s alreadytoo much. All of it. His body, his heat, his eyes still locked on mine.
Overwhelmed, I let my head fall back and my eyes fall shut, and he stills. Mason’s fingers are firm on my chin, tilting my face back toward his.
“You look away, and I stop.”
I swallow, nodding, forcing my eyes open, and he moves again, every thrust dragging across that perfect spot, making my toes curl. We stay locked like that, eyes open, hearts exposed, as he fucks me in the most deliberate way I’ve ever been touched. Like every inch of me matters, and I’m his.
When he kisses me again, it’s hot and full of need, and I open for him, moaning into his mouth. His lips trail down to my throat, then to my ear, where he breathes filth softened by reverence.
“You’re doing so well for me, Bambi. Fuck.Take me so well.”
“Didn’t Luc say that this is new to you too?” I whimper, gripping his shoulders tighter. “How are you so good at this?”
He takes my hand and kisses the center of my palm. “Do you know what image training is?”
“Yeah.” I nod, breathless. “You imagine yourself in the situation as if it’s real. Like standing on top of the trail, but in your head, you’re riding it, going over every root and every corner.”
“Exactly. You do it again and again. Dozens of times.Hundreds.”
He thrusts again, harder this time, making me cry out. His mouth finds mine, swallowing the sound in another kiss, then he moves lower, licking down my neck as his fingers slide to my chest.
He starts flicking my nipple until I gasp, head falling back again as pleasure zips through me like fire.
