Page 40 of Shattered Promise (Avalon Falls #4)

Mason’s gaze darkens, his grip tightening. He pulls me forward, closer, until our mouths almost touch. His eyes pin mine in place, his voice a low promise. “Then let me ruin you for anyone else.”

And just like that, I know I’m already his.

His mouth claims mine again—hungry, urgent, every breath tangled between us like it might be the last. His hands are everywhere, sliding down my back, gripping my thighs, guiding me as I ride him slow and deep, lost in the rhythm he sets.

And then he shifts again.

One firm hand presses between my shoulder blades, folding me into him until my chest molds to his. The angle changes—sharper, deeper, devastating. Sensation rolls over me, my fingertips tingling with an onslaught of pleasure. I sob into his neck, the sound raw and unfiltered.

“Oh my god.”

“I’m right here,” Mason pants, his mouth dragging along my jaw, open and hot. “Give me another one. You can do it, baby.”

I nod frantically, too far gone to pretend I have control. My insides go molten, nerves shot through with white-hot pleasure.

“You take me so good. So fucking deep. No one else gets this—just me. Just mine,” he murmurs in my ear.

My heart trips hard in my chest and my body seizes tight. I sink my nails into his shoulders. “I can’t—I’m gonna?—”

“Give it to me.” His voice is rough silk. Command wrapped in care. “Let go, Trouble. I’ve got you.”

The orgasm tears through me like it’s been waiting years. It’s the most intense orgasm of my life. A full-body unraveling that rips my breath away. My thighs lock tight around his hips, vision whiting out, his name breaking over my tongue like a prayer—raw and shaking.

And he’s right there with me.

I feel it—the sharp, desperate snap of his control. His hips stutter once, twice, then slam home as he groans into my shoulder, low and reverent.

“Fuck. Abby . ”

We fall apart together. Loud and breathless and fucking perfect.

He holds me through the aftershocks, one hand splayed across my back, the other buried in my hair. Our hearts beat like twin hammers against our ribs, trying to sync back into something survivable.

Mason’s fingers trace slow lines up and down my spine, lazy and aimless. Like he’s memorizing every vertebrae. Every freckle. My body feels like melted wax, like my bones liquefied and I forgot how to hold myself up.

“You okay?” His mouth finds my temple. A slow press of lips.

I hum, eyes closed. “Still deciding if I’ve died or just transcended.”

He chuckles, warm against my temple. “You were loud.”

“You liked it.”

“Hell yeah I did.”

A long beat passes. His breath in my hair and my hand splayed across his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall.

I shift just slightly, and he exhales when I do—like even the tiniest movement of me around him is too much. His arm cinches tighter around my waist.

“Don’t move yet,” he murmurs. “Just—stay.”

I nod, eyes still closed. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt like this before,” I confess quietly.

He just tightens his grip. “Me neither,” he whispers.

I shift again, half-dazed, limbs loose and tangled, but still joined with him—our bodies slow to let go.

“Is it always like that?” I murmur, the words barely more than breath. “Does it always feel so fucking good?”

Mason huffs a low laugh, but it’s ragged around the edges. His cock twitches deep inside me, and his hand tightens reflexively at my waist.

“God,” he mutters, voice hoarse. “Fuck, no. Not ever.”

I lift my head, brows raised, caught between amusement and disbelief.

He tips his forehead against mine, breath still uneven. “Nothing in this world has ever felt as good as you squeezing the life out of my cock.”

I snort, completely unladylike, burying my face in the crook of his neck. “Jesus, Mason.”

He groans, the sound vibrating through his chest. “Don’t laugh, baby. I swear, every time you do that, your cunt tightens around me like a fucking vice.”

I can’t help it, I laugh again. A little breathless, a little giddy. “You’re so dramatic.”

His grip flexes at my hips, and he leans back just enough to look at me, eyes glinting. “Have mercy on me, Trouble.”

Still laughing, I press a kiss to his jaw and slowly rise up, feeling the deliberate drag as he slips out of me. It’s a slow slide, warm and wet and intimate, and even though we just came, he’s still half-hard, flushed and heavy against his thigh.

My breath stutters a little. Lust swoops low in my belly, greedy and lazy at the same time.

Mason kisses me—quick and hot, like he can’t help himself—then leans back in the chair, arms slack over the rests, watching me with hooded, satisfied eyes.

“Mind if I use your shower?” I ask, pulling my dress down and smoothing it with both hands. “I don’t really want to go home.”

Mason tilts his head, smug and shameless. “Mi casa is su casa, baby.” His palm lands on my ass, a firm, playful swat that makes me jump and narrow my eyes.

He grins. “For motivation.”

I roll my eyes, lips twitching. “You’re lucky I’m too blissed out to retaliate.”

I saunter toward the door, Mason’s gaze heavy on my back, and the sound of his low whistle follows me out of the garage.