Page 9 of Ghost (Cerberus Personal Security #1)

SIX

Willow

Mason lies beside me, one arm flung overhead, his scarred chest rising and falling with the rhythm of sleep. There’s a softness to him now, a quiet vulnerability that tugs at something deep inside me.

The scent of wet fur and cedar greets me before I even open my eyes. Morning light seeps through the cracks in the curtains, cold and pale, but there’s warmth pressed to my feet—dense, immovable warmth that snores in low, thunderous gusts.

Bear.

I crack one eye. He’s sprawled across the foot of the bed like a fallen boulder, tongue lolling, one massive paw twitching in some dream of snow or squirrels.

His fur smells like pine smoke and mountain water, like he belongs out there instead of in here.

He lets out a grunt as I shift, tail thumping once, half-heartedly, before going limp again.

Lazy power in a two-hundred-pound shag carpet.

But it’s not Bear who tenses.

It’s Chaos.

I don’t have to look to know he’s behind the front door. I can feel him—coiled stillness in the shape of a predator, breath slow, ears sharp. He doesn’t sleep so much as wait. Not Bear’s brand of guardianship. No. Chaos is a blade tucked in shadow. Precision wrapped in fur.

I sit up slowly. Chaos doesn’t move. Doesn’t blink. But he tracks every breath I take.

I swing my legs over the edge of the bed. Bear groans and rolls onto his back, all belly and drool and zero dignity. His tail flops. I rub it absently. He saves lives, Mason said, but right now, he’s just a glorified rug with bad breath.

Chaos, though—he waits until I take a step toward the kitchen before he rises. Silent. Controlled. His gaze locks onto mine, neither aggressive nor soft. Just—assessing.

Guard mode. Always.

Bear protects with brute instinct and slobber.

Chaos?

Chaos calculates.

Together, they’re safety in stereo.

One soft. One sharp.

One warm. One warning.

Both of them have accepted me into their pack.

And our leader is Mason—still no last name.

Scars map his chest, telling stories of battles survived. Need coils low in my belly as I watch him, my body aching in the most delicious ways, remembering his possession.

I reach out, brushing my fingertips across his ribs where faint bruises from our earlier frenzy bloom. He stirs, lashes fluttering, eyes opening slowly. When they land on me, they’re shadowed—not from sleep, but something deeper.

Regret, maybe.

“I was too rough,” he murmurs, voice low and ragged. “Should’ve stopped, should’ve pulled back. I lost control.” He reaches out, his fingers gently tracing the bruises he left on my skin, each touch a silent apology for his earlier roughness.

“You didn’t take anything I didn’t give freely.” I cup his cheek, feel the rasp of stubble against my palm. “You didn’t hurt me, Mason. You gave me something I didn’t think I could have again.” I press my fingers to his lips, feeling them tremble against my skin.

He kisses my fingertips, but the shadows don’t fully retreat. Tension tightens in his body, and self-recrimination simmers in his gaze. He’s a man used to being in control, and last night, he walked a fine line, testing my boundaries and pushing my limits.

I loved every minute of it, but the concern in his eyes worries me.

Before I can overthink it, I shift, moving down his body, my intent clear. His eyes widen in surprise, but he doesn’t stop me. When I take him into my mouth, his eyes snap shut instantly, hands automatically gripping my hair.

For a heartbeat, he holds me there, a low groan rumbling in his chest. Then he moves, lifting and lowering my head, fucking my mouth as desire overcomes him.

“ Fuuuck ,” he growls, his voice ragged with pleasure. “You don’t have to, but there’s no way I’m stopping you. Your mouth feels so good.”

I hum in response, the vibration drawing a hiss from him. His fingers tighten in my hair, holding me where he wants me, using my mouth for his pleasure. I can feel him holding back, can sense the restraint in his touch.

I don’t want his restraint.

I want his passion, his wildness, his fire.

I look up at him, meeting his gaze as I swallow him deeper.

His eyes darken, the guilt and regret replaced by hunger and need.

He keeps me there, my mouth filled with him, until he’s on the edge, then he flips our positions.

His weight pins me to the mattress as his mouth claims mine, erasing any doubt about reciprocal desire.

“Brave girl, sucking my cock like that,” he growls against my throat. “Playing with fire.”

“Then teach me a lesson.” I arch into him, my breath hitching with anticipation.

His eyes darken, and a primal, feral hunger takes over. He searches for any sign of doubt or fear, but there is none.

I want this.

He sits back, his gaze roaming over my body, a primal hunger in his eyes. This is my fantasy coming to life, and now that he knows what I need and crave, he gives it to me.

“Turn over,” he commands, his voice rough with desire. “On your hands and knees.”

I comply without hesitation, presenting myself to him, offering him everything. He grips my hips, his fingers digging into my flesh, his touch possessive, dominant. He presses one hand firmly between my shoulder blades, pushing me into the mattress, forcing me to arch my back.

“Stay,” he commands, his voice leaving no room for argument.

I comply, my body tense with anticipation, my breath coming in quick, shallow gasps, my body quivering with need, my back arching further, offering myself to him completely.

He grips my hips with bruising force, his fingers digging into my flesh, marking me as his.

He positions himself at my entrance, and with one forceful thrust, he enters me, filling me completely.

He sets a brutal pace, each stroke hard and deep. His hands grip my hips, his fingers digging into my flesh. He leans over me, one hand gripping my shoulder, the other tangling in my hair, pulling my head back and to the side, exposing my throat to his mouth, his teeth.

“Fuck, you feel incredible,” he growls, his body tense behind me.

I moan, my body stretching to accommodate him, my nerves alight with sensation. Each thrust sends a jolt of pleasure coursing through me, pushing me higher, driving me further into that realm of sensation where only he and I exist.

He releases my hair, his hand trailing down my spine, pressing between my shoulder blades, holding me against the mattress. It’s a power move, and I love it.

My body pulses with pleasure.

My heart pounds in my chest.

My mind retreats to the bliss of submission.

His words send a rush of heat through me, pushing me closer to the edge. His thrusts become harder, faster, more desperate. He leans over me, his body covering mine, his breath hot and ragged in my ear.

Pleasure explodes through me, a wave of pure, unadulterated ecstasy.

I cry out, my body convulsing beneath him, my heart pounding in my chest. He continues to thrust, riding me through my orgasm, his release following closely behind.

He comes with a roar, his body shaking with the force of it, his cock pulsing deep inside me.

We collapse onto the mattress, our bodies entwined, our hearts pounding in sync. He pulls me into his arms, holding me close, his touch gentle and tender. He presses a soft kiss to my lips, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

“You’re incredible,” he murmurs, his gaze full of wonder. “I’ve never met anyone like you.”

“I wish we could stay like this.”

“What do you mean?”

I meet his gaze steadily, letting him see the truth in my eyes.

I exhale slowly. “I’ve lived in fear for years. Submission became a prison instead of a choice. Steffan… He raped me. Ov er and over. And he let his chief of security do it too. Drake. Steffan watched. He approved and encouraged.”

Mason goes still. The air thickens around us.

“You’re saying—” His voice breaks with fury. “The motherfucker let his security chief touch you?”

“Touch me. Punish me… Rape me.” I don’t know why Mason gets to hear about all the ugly parts of my life. There’s just something about him that makes me feel safe. Like I can trust him with the worst of my life.

“I’ve been living in hell.” My throat tightens as I share the worst moments of my life.

“Always afraid, always waiting for the next punishment. Last night… With you?” How do I explain to this man the gift he’s given me?

“It was different. You didn’t take anything from me.

You let me give. I felt wanted. Safe. Protected. ”

He exhales hard, scrubbing a hand through his hair as he leans back against the headboard. “You said that was the best sex you’ve ever had.”

“It was.” My voice is quiet but certain. “I’ve never come apart like that in someone’s arms. Never felt that safe. That free.”

A slow, wicked grin spreads across his face. “Careful. You say things like that, and you’re gonna give a guy a god complex.”

I arch a brow. “A god complex?”

“Yeah. Giant ego. Swagger for days. Probably start carving notches in the headboard.”

“Huge ego.” I laugh, the sound easing some of the heaviness still pressing on my chest. “And for the record, you already have a swagger.”

He leans in, voice dropping to a husky murmur. “That’s not the only thing I’ve got that’s huge.” He glances down at the sheets, and the indisputable evidence rises between us. Eager and ready for more.

“You did not just say that.” My cheeks flame, and I swat him with the nearest pillow.

His grin widens as he catches the pillow mid-swing. “Babe, you’re the one who said best sex of your life . I’m just living up to expectations.”

I roll my eyes, but the smile won’t leave my lips. “Unreal. One night and you’re already impossible.”

“You started it.” He shrugs, completely unapologetic.

“I’m trying to be serious here.”

“I’m very serious when it comes to sex.” He waggles his brows and lifts the sheets, checking. “Yup. Very serious.”

“Truly impossible, and while I’d love more, we need to talk.”