Page 7 of Ghost (Cerberus Personal Security #1)

FIVE

Willow

One moment, we’re breathing the same air, suspended in fragile stillness. Next, his mouth crashes into mine, all fire and desperation. I gasp as he walks me backward, gripping my thighs and lifting me like I weigh nothing.

My back hits the wall. My legs wrap around his hips, my body reacting on instinct. Heat floods my core as his hardness presses against me, and I whimper into the kiss.

“Tell me to stop.” The command growls from his throat, hands already under my borrowed shirt, branding my skin. The dominance in his tone makes me shiver, but it’s the restraint behind it that undoes me. He’s giving me control even as he claims it.

“Please don’t.”

A sound like pain rips from his throat. His mouth claims mine again, harder this time, all restraint shattering.

I roll my hips against him. Need sparks like lightning through my body, electrifying everything Steffan tried to beat into silence.

Mason devours my mouth, one hand gripping my hip, the other sliding up my ribs, leaving fire in his wake.

When he pulls back to kiss down my throat, I arch into the contact, offering more.

Every touch erases another memory of Steffan, replacing fear with fire. When Mason breaks the kiss to trace his lips down my throat, I tilt my head back in willing surrender.

His teeth graze the tender skin below my jaw. A question. A dare.

Instead of retreating, I pull him closer, fingers curling into his hair.

He pauses, his breath warm against my skin.

His teeth press a little more firmly, testing my boundaries, waiting to see how far I’m willing to go. My heart pounds in my chest, excitement and anticipation swirling within me. I slide my fingers into his hair, pulling him close, signaling that this is what I want.

He groans, low and primal, and his hand moves to the small of my back, yanking me tighter to him. The world beyond this cabin—the storm, the danger, my past—vanishes beneath the weight of this moment.

I never imagined I could feel this way with someone I barely know. But maybe that’s the key. With Mason, there’s no pretense, no expectations. Just raw, unfiltered desire. And perhaps, for the first time, I can truly be free to explore the depths of my longing.

“This is madness.” He lifts his head slightly, his eyes searching mine for any sign of reluctance. Finding none, a subtle smile curves his lips before he captures my mouth once more, deeper this time. I meet his fervor with my own, ready to see where this uncharted path leads us.

He breaks the kiss just enough to look at me.

“Look at me,” he demands, and I force my heavy lids open to meet his gaze. The possession I see there makes me tremble. “If this isn’t what you want… If it’s too much—tell me to stop.”

“Don’t stop.” My breath catches, words tangled on my tongue. “Please, don’t stop.”

He studies me, searching for doubt, and I meet him with fire.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

He studies me for a moment longer, ensuring he’s reading me correctly.

Seeing the resolve in my eyes, the tension in his shoulders eases.

His hand moves to cup my face gently, his thumb brushing against my cheek as he leans in.

The space between us disappears, and I surrender completely to the moment, trusting him to lead the way.

“I’m not gentle.” The words come out as a warning, even as his thumb traces my bottom lip with aching tenderness. “Not like this. Not when you make me feel this way, but I can try… You’re injuries…”

“Please don’t be gentle with me. I don’t need gentle,” I whisper, nipping at his thumb, a silent invitation for him to let go, to take what he needs from me. “I need real.”

Something snaps behind his eyes—a primal, feral hunger that sends a shiver down my spine. His voice drops lower, rougher, more intense. His forehead presses against mine, his breath ragged and hot on my skin.

“I don’t want to hurt you. I can’t promise I’ll be gentle. I need you to know that.”

“Take what you need. I can handle it.” I look into his eyes, seeing the raw hunger and the underlying concern. I reach up, cupping his cheek, my thumb brushing against his stubble. “I’m strong enough for you.”

His response is instantaneous and overwhelming. His control shatters.

He sets me down, strips me with shaking hands, and rips his shirt over his head. His scars glint in the low light, powerful and brutal. He shoves his pants down, eyes locked on mine, watching for any sign of fear.

There is none.

Then he’s on me again, lifting me like I weigh nothing. My back hits the wall as my legs wrap instinctively around his hips. The feeling of skin against skin is electric—all heat and need and desperate hunger. His hardness presses against me, drawing a whimper from my throat.

“Last chance,” he growls, his voice a low rumble that resonates in his chest. “Last chance to tell me to stop.”

“Not going to do that.” I meet his gaze steadily, my voice filled with determination and need. I roll my hips against him, feeling the hard length of him pressed against my core, drawing a sound like pain from deep within his chest.

A primal, feral hunger flashes in his eyes, and his control snaps.

His teeth find my throat, biting down, marking me as his.

His hands grip my thighs hard enough to bruise, a claim of possession that sends a wave of heat through me.

With one powerful thrust, he enters me, swallowing my cry of pleasure with a fierce, demanding kiss.

There’s no gentleness, no hesitation. Only raw, primal connection.

Each stroke claims me more thoroughly than the last, erasing every bad memory with pure, overwhelming sensation.

His hands roam my body, claiming every inch of me as his own.

His mouth devours mine, his teeth nipping at my lips, his tongue invading, possessing.

The wall is cold and unyielding against my back, a stark contrast to the heat of his body pressed against me.

His grip on my thighs is bruising, his fingers digging into my flesh, holding me in place as he drives into me with relentless force.

The sound of our bodies coming together fills the room, a raw, primal symphony that drowns out everything else.

His mouth moves to my throat, his teeth grazing my skin, marking me, claiming me. Each bite, each suck, each lick erases another memory of Steffan, replacing pain with pleasure.

My body burns for him, desperate, greedy. The cold wall digs into my back. His body pins me in place like a living weapon.

He growls something against my skin, and I don’t catch the words, only the fury and hunger beneath them. I answer with my own cry, lost in sensation, in the way he claims me like I’m his to take.

And I am.

I want to be.

His.

A fantasy come to life.

Every thrust steals another piece of my past and gives it back, laced in pleasure.

I surrender to his possession, letting him drive every thought from my head except the feel of him, the scent of him, the sound of his rough groans against my skin. His body claims mine, his cock filling me, his hands gripping me with bruising force, his mouth marking me as his.

He growls against my throat, his voice thick with desire and dominance.

Animalistic.

I cling to him, taking what he gives.

His thrusts become harder, faster, and more desperate.

Each stroke drives me higher, closer to the edge.

Pleasure coils low in my belly, building, intensifying, until it explodes through me, a wave of pure, unadulterated ecstasy.

His name tears from my lips, a cry of surrender and release, as my body clenches around him, pulling him deeper, claiming him as much as he claims me.

His release follows closely behind, his body tensing, his thrusts becoming erratic. He buries his face in my neck, his teeth sinking into my flesh as he chases his pleasure and finds his release. His body shudders against mine, his breath hot and ragged in my ear .

As we cling to each other, our bodies still joined, our hearts pounding in sync, I know this is more than just sex. It’s my fantasy come to life.

And I want it all. I want him, all of him, every dark, wild, possessive inch of him.

He holds me against the wall until my trembling legs can support my weight again. Then he lowers me, legs barely holding. Scoops me into his arms like I’m weightless and carries me to bed. He pulls the covers back and lays me down gently, his touch reverent.

“Get in,” he says, pulling back the covers. His voice is still rough with need but gentler now, the primal edge softened by satisfaction and concern.

I slide between the sheets, watching as he follows, immediately drawing me against his chest. His arms cage me protectively, his body a warm, solid shield against the world. He presses a kiss to the top of my head, his lips lingering, his breath ruffling my hair.

“Well,” he chuckles, a sound that vibrates through me, filled with disbelief and amusement, “that was definitely unexpected.” He shakes his head, as if still trying to process what just happened between us.

“When I first saw you, I didn’t think we’d end up like this—especially not with me fucking you against the bathroom wall. ”

His fingers trace the marks he’s left on my throat, my shoulders, my hips, each touch a silent apology, a tender caress that soothes the lingering sting.

“I hope I didn’t hurt you,” he says, his voice soft with concern. “I didn’t mean to be so rough, but you… That was the best damn thing that’s happened to me in a long time,” he admits quietly.

“Only in the best possible way,” I murmur, pressing closer to his warmth. His chest rumbles with satisfaction at my words. I can’t help but smile, my fingers tracing lazy patterns on his chest. “It was incredible. The best wall sex I’ve ever had.”

“Was it?”

“Yes.”

“Have you ever been fucked against a wall before?”

“No.” I laugh. “That was a first for me.”

“I shouldn’t have done that.”

“I shouldn’t have let you, but I really needed something like that.”