Page 25 of Man of Lies (Vendetta Kings #2)

Chapter Twenty-Five

SILAS

The apartment was quiet now, save for the rhythmic tick of the clock on the mantel and the distant hum of the city outside. Dominic had left, and the silence soothed the hunted feeling I’d had since waking up. I was lying on the couch, body aching, but it was nothing compared to the ache I felt when I looked into Mason’s eyes.

That bright blue had gone dark and rimmed with exhaustion. His anguish was a tangible thing, and I couldn’t stand it.

I cupped his face gently with one hand, lifting his chin just enough to tilt his face toward mine. His eyes fluttered shut as if he couldn’t bear to look at me, so I kissed his closed lashes, lingering for a moment before slowly moving to his cheekbone. His skin was warm and soft beneath my lips, and I felt him shudder as the tension left him.

So, I kept going. I kissed the curve of his jaw next, rubbing my lips over the stubble and tasting the salt of his skin, feeling his heartbeat beneath it. I paused when I reached his chin, holding him there until his breath hitched.

That’s when I kissed him.

It was gentle as a raindrop at first, communication that had nothing to do with words, but then Mason’s hands were on me. His fingers threaded through my hair, grabbing fistfuls of it and tugging me closer.

His lips moved with sudden urgency, but I welcomed it. His need, his hunger, was a mirror of mine. I’d always been the one to take control, but right now, all I wanted was to give. I let go, sinking against the pillow and letting Mason rise over me to deepen the kiss.

“I need you,” he whispered into my mouth. “More than I’ve ever needed anyone.”

“I’m here,” I whispered, pulling him back toward me. “Take what you need. I’m not going anywhere, counse— Mason. ”

He froze for a second, then laughed softly, a breathy, almost incredulous sound that made my pulse trip. His grin was slow and sexy, different from anything he’d given me before. More relaxed and genuine than I’d ever seen.

“Gotta say, I like the sound of that,” he said, warmth filling his eyes. “I want to hear my name on your lips when you come.”

My breath hitched, but I held his gaze, smiling despite myself. He knew exactly what he was doing to me—what he always did. I’d spent so much time taunting him, pulling his strings, watching him twitch and react, but the truth was, he’d set my blood on fire the moment he walked into my bar.

“Mason,” I repeated, brushing my lips over his forehead and back to his ear, where I whispered, “All you, baby.”

“I like the sound of that, too,” he murmured between kisses, pressing me into the couch.

He kissed my neck gently, steadying my bare shoulders with his hands, but I could feel him fighting his thoughts. When he pulled back slightly, there was a pain in his eyes, and a flicker of concern crossed his face. The stitches in my side were raw and painful, and I could feel his worry, but I refused to let it stop us.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked. His hand hovered over my side, careful but uncertain, like he was afraid to hurt me by touching me too much.

“I’m fine,” I murmured, taking his wrist gently and moving his hand away from my bandage. I pressed his palm against my belly, then guided it lower, down to the bulge straining against my cotton boxers. “Nothing I can’t handle.”

I let his hand wander lower, felt him hesitate for just a beat before his fingers began to move, tracing the outline of my cock through the cotton. Then, he gripped me, and I let my head fall back against the pillow as he began to knead, slow at first, but with a certain precision that made the back of my neck tighten.

The cotton of my boxers was growing damp, the material sticking to me with every stroke, as I got harder under his hand. I spread my thighs a little, giving him room. For once, I didn’t need to lead. This moment was mine to surrender to, and it felt right to let him have it, to let him work me as he pleased. I could just be here, feel his touch, and let the world outside fade to nothing.

Mason didn’t hesitate. His fingers slid down, and without a word, he flipped the waistband of my boxers down, exposing me to the cool apartment air. The contrast of the chill on my heated flesh made me gasp, and before I could process it, Mason was leaning in. His hot breath washed over my cock, sending a shiver through me that had me gripping the leather cushions.

His grip tightened and loosened, shifting, and I could feel myself growing harder under his hand. We didn’t speak. Didn’t need to. I just breathed through it, giving up control and letting him have his way.

His touch was so careful, letting me decide how much I could take, but I didn’t want to hold back anymore. The vulnerability of it—that he was doing this for me, playing with me like I was something worth having, someone worth appreciating—had a surge of love and gratitude swelling through my heart. For once, it wasn’t about what I could do for him. It was about what I needed, and realizing that he offered it freely, without hesitation.

Mason shifted on the couch, leaning down to press a kiss against my bare hip. His breath was hot on my sensitive skin as he trailed his lips lower, teasing me. I tensed in anticipation, fingers digging into the leather cushions beneath me. When I felt the first velvet swipe of his tongue along my length, I couldn’t hold back a groan.

“That’s it,” he murmured in a low voice that rumbled through my cock. His tongue continued its languid exploration as I trembled under the onslaught of sensation. I threaded my fingers into his hair, gripping the silken strands to feel his head bobbing.

Just when I started to climb toward the peak, desperate for release, Mason pulled away, leaving me wet and exposed in the chilly apartment air. My cock was aching, slick and sensitive and throbbing with need, but I bit back my frustration when he reared back and began to strip in front of me.

His body was so lithe and powerful—God, he could’ve been carved from marble.

He didn’t even give me a chance to help before tugging my boxers down to my ankles and climbing on top of me to straddle my hips. So very careful, tucking his knees at the sides of my pelvis and taking most of his weight on his thighs to keep from putting any strain on my torso.

He paused, just above me, eyes dark with desire. The heat his body was radiating felt like it could scorch me, and I couldn’t resist twitching my hips upward, just a little, until my shaft nudged against his balls.

Mason lowered his head to kiss my chest, directly above my heart.

“We’ve always been cautious,” he said roughly. “We used protection. But…this is different.”

Gently, I cupped his face with my hands, feeling the roughness of his stubble against my palms. “Are you sure?”

"I'm sure." His hands were already trembling with anticipation. “This is it for me, Silas.”

I swallowed hard. Part of me—hell, most of me—wanted to ignore everything else and just let this be ours. No strings. No complications.

But my nagging conscience pulled me back, reminding me of the mess I’d made between us. This wasn’t just about offering my body. It was about giving him something more. Something that mattered.

“Mason,” I croaked, stroking the shadows beneath his eyes with my thumbs. “I need to tell you something…about me.”

“No.” Mason’s fingers circled my wrists, stopping me gently but firmly. His gaze softened, like he was reading me in a way only he could. “Not now, Silas. I’m not a fool. I know you’ve been keeping secrets, but I don’t need them right now. I already trust you. I just need you , with me, right now.”

I froze, stunned by the simplicity and depth of his trust. I needed to come clean, but Mason didn’t need that now. All he needed was me, present, with him.

The walls I’d built up so carefully over a lifetime of lies crumbled. With Mason, I wasn’t a man with secrets. I was a man finally giving all of himself.

“I’m here,” I whispered, cradling his hips. “All of me. Just for you.”

I reached down, my hand trembling slightly, and grasped the base of my cock to stand it up between us. Mason’s eyes locked with mine as he shifted, lining up and sinking slowly down on top of me. He wasn’t rushing—no, he was savoring this, throwing his head back and easing down, inch by slow inch, until he was fully seated. When he’d settled fully, warm and tight around me, he paused and blew out a shaking breath.

“You good, sweetheart?” I asked, stroking his quivering thighs.

His eyes were glassy with pleasure, and his smile was sweet. “Better than I’ve ever been.”

His rhythm was slow at first, rocking with careful grace. The way his body swayed over me, his hips rolling in gentle arcs, made everything in me tighten with need.

I planted my feet on the couch and canted my hips, but I couldn’t help much. I knew that. I couldn’t even thrust. Every movement sent a sharp pain slicing through my abdomen. I could only lie there, helpless, caught between the intensity of the pain and the overwhelming urge to give him everything he needed. But Mason didn’t seem to mind. His hands rested on my chest for balance as he set his pace. He was owning this, taking what he wanted—and I couldn’t stop him even if I wanted to.

His head tipped back, exposing the pale column of his throat and the pulse flickering beneath his jaw. His breath came faster, more erratic as he built up the pace, every movement of his hips taking him closer to that edge.

He was so fucking beautiful.

“God, Silas,” he breathed, voice hoarse and thick with desire. “You feel so good. So fucking good.”

I groaned, gripping Mason’s hips tighter as he rode me. His words fueled my desire, and I wanted nothing more than to please him.

“That’s it, baby,” I rasped. “Take what you need.”

Mason’s movements grew more urgent, his thighs tensing as he bounced up and down my length. His cock lay rigid against his belly, leaking precum that dripped onto my skin. I reached between us to stroke him in time with his frantic pace, eliciting a deep moan.

“Faster,” I growled between clenched teeth. “Mason, fuck me.”

His hands left my chest, gripping the back of the couch, and his elbows locked as he bore down on me. Faster, harder, he impaled himself without mercy, his breath coming in pants. It was exhilarating, watching this man—who’d never willingly relinquished control—drown in the pleasure he’d always been afraid to embrace.

The leather beneath us creaked with each powerful thrust, and the slap of his skin against mine sent a shiver down my spine. Sweat drenched his body, dripping from his temples, gleaming in the dim light.

Part of me expected to hear the elevator chime any minute, but even if Dominic walked in right then, I didn’t care. Nothing else existed but this connection. This surrender. This bond.

“That’s it, baby,” I purred, reveling in my power over him. “Ride me like you own me.”

His laugh was breathless and filled with delight. “I do.”

And damn it, he was right. In this moment, he did own me. All of me. Every part of me—heart, body, and soul—was his. Unconditionally.

My climax built steadily as Mason increased his pace, taking me so deep, I swore I could see it in his belly. He was glistening above me, gripping my hips with those strong, runner thighs. I stroked his length firmly, fingers slick with precum, glorying in the way he began to pulse and throb.

“Silas,” he gasped, “I’m close?—”

“Let go, Mason,” I said hoarsely. “Come for me.”

He cried out, back arching as his release spilled over my hand and onto my stomach. The sight of him coming undone pushed me over the edge.

I couldn’t hold back anymore. The tension built within me like a coil wound too tight, and my vision went white. It was all for him —every part of me giving in, every bit of control slipping away. And when I came, it wasn’t just my body that broke.

I held Mason tightly as we rode out our highs together.

Mason slumped against the back of the couch, chest heaving as he caught his breath. I lay beneath his weight, so limp and satisfied that I barely felt the ache of my stitches.

After a long moment, Mason shifted, gently easing himself off me, and I let my body relax into the cushions. The cool air of the apartment brushed over my skin, but I was too spent to move. I stared at the ceiling, trying to wrap my mind around what had just happened.

Whatever my old world had been…it was gone. I couldn’t go back.

“You good?” Mason’s voice was still raspy from his release.

I couldn’t answer, but he seemed to understand. His hand found mine, fingers brushing over my skin in the quietest, most intimate way, and I laced mine between his and squeezed.

For now, that was enough.