Page 11 of Stalked (Mating Run #3)

Chapter eleven

Toby

Toby's whole world narrowed to the press of Mason's cock against him. His body trembled, his skin on fire where Mason's chest pressed against his back. The rough bark of the fallen log dug into his skin, but the discomfort only heightened his arousal.

A whimper escaped Toby's lips as he felt the blunt head of Mason's cock nudge against his slick hole. Nerves and excitement warred within him. He'd never gone this far before, had barely dared to dream that anyone would want him like this.

Yet here he was, spread out and eager, about to lose his virginity in front of a pack of werewolves.

Nice job being normal, Toby. You really are a freak…

But right now I'd take being a freak over being normal any day of the week.

A twinge of fear spiked through the haze of lust. Mason was big—in all ways. What if it hurt? What if he couldn't handle it, and Mason realized what a pathetic loser he really was? Toby's breath hitched, anxiety threatening to overtake him.

Then Mason's hand gripped his jaw, forcing Toby to meet his gaze. The hunger in those green eyes wasn't gentle or sweet—it was consuming, wild, and somehow exactly what Toby needed. Jesus, he looks at me like I'm prey and he's starving.

Mason's thumb brushed roughly over his lower lip. "Stop thinking," Mason growled. "I can smell your fear. But you're not weak. You can take what I give you." The possessiveness in his voice sent a fresh wave of heat through Toby's body. This wasn't about comfort or romance. This was primal. Raw. Mason had chosen him, wanted him.

With a shaky breath, Toby nodded.

Toby held his breath as he felt the broad head of Mason's thick cock press against his entrance, slick and ready. His body tensed instinctively, nerves jangling with a mix of trepidation and desperate, aching need.

"Relax for me, baby," Mason murmured, his large hands stroking soothingly over Toby's trembling skin. "Let me in. Gonna make you feel so good."

Focusing on the rough timbre of Mason's voice, Toby exhaled slowly.

The thick, blunt head of Mason's cock pressed against Toby's spit-slick hole, the pressure sending a shiver of anticipation through his body. Toby clung to Mason's broad shoulders, his fingers digging into the firm muscle. His breath hitched, caught between fear and desire.

Then, with a slow, steady push, the head slipped into him.

Toby cried out, the sound ripped from his throat. The pressure was immediate, aching, radiating outward from where Mason breached him.

Too much. His body clenched, fighting the intrusion. Every nerve ending screamed at him that this was wrong, impossible, way too much to handle. Yet some darker part of him thrilled at the pain.

"Fuck," he gasped, eyes rolling. His nails dug bloody half-moons into Mason's shoulders. Nothing had prepared him for this—this raw, animal feeling of being filled. His lungs wouldn't work properly. His heart slammed against his ribs.

Mason's fingers trembled against his hips, the powerful man's control visibly fracturing. His pupils were blown wide, breath ragged. "So tight," he groaned, voice thick with wonder. "Jesus, Toby…"

Toby shivered at the raw need in Mason's voice. The alpha's composure was cracking, revealing something desperate and hungry beneath. The knowledge that he—skinny, awkward Toby—could reduce this powerful man to such a state sent an unexpected thrill through him.

He crossed his ankles behind Mason's hips, and pulled him in deeper.

The movement forced a guttural moan from both of them. Mason's hands tightened, bruising in their intensity as he surged forward, sweat-slicked muscles flexing in the moonlight. Time seemed to slow, each sensation amplified as their bodies joined more completely. The forest around them faded to background noise—all that mattered was this connection.

Toby could feel everything. Every thick inch sliding into him, stretching him in ways he'd never imagined. The intensity was overwhelming, like being consumed from the inside out. The burn transformed, morphing into something darker, hungrier. He'd never felt so vulnerable, so exposed.

So wanted.

He could feel every ridge, every vein as Mason sank deeper. His own cock throbbed, leaking steadily against his stomach. The fear wasn't stopping him from wanting this. It was a realization that should have been troubling, but instead felt like a dark liberation.

A whimper escaped him. He pressed his face against Mason's chest, breathing in sweat and musk and something wild. The scent cut through his panic, grounding him.

"So tight," Mason growled, teeth bared. "Feel how you grip me, baby. Like you never want to let go…"

Toby's heart slammed against his ribs as Mason's cock filled him completely. Before he could stop himself, he blurted, "I don't."

Shit. He clamped his mouth shut. Heat rushed to his face. Way to sound desperate, idiot.

Mason stilled, his bigger frame frozen above Toby's slender one. Slowly, he pulled back, his massive cock sliding almost out, making Toby whimper at the emptiness. His calloused hand gripped Toby's jaw, forcing his face up.

Toby had no choice but to look at him—at the moonlight highlighting the silver threading through Mason's dark hair, at the raw masculinity carved into features that had seen decades Toby had yet to experience.

"You think I'd ever let you go?" Mason's lips curled into that predatory smile, moonlight glinting off fangs too sharp to be human. "The moment I scented you in that office, I knew you were mine."

He slammed forward, burying his cock to the hilt. Toby moaned, arms wrapping instinctively around Mason's broad shoulders. He'd spent years perfecting his don't-give-a-fuck attitude, using sarcasm like armor. Now he was falling apart under this older man's hands.

Mason pushed forward with torturous patience, sinking in inch by excruciating inch. "Oh god," Toby whimpered, nails digging in. His body trembled as it struggled to accommodate Mason's size. This was nothing like his fumbling experiments with toys in his dorm room. This was primal. Real.

When Mason started to move—pulling out slowly before slamming back in—Toby's smart mouth finally shut down. No witty comebacks now. Just desperate, needy sounds he'd deny making tomorrow.

"That's it," Mason growled against his ear. "Let me hear you. Let me know who's making you feel this way."

Each thrust punched little broken sounds from Toby's throat. The forest around them disappeared—nothing existed beyond the brutal rhythm of Mason's cock and the strong hands gripping his hips hard enough to bruise.

Toby had spent years protecting himself with sarcasm and standoffish remarks. Now he was coming undone on a forest floor, moaning like a cheap porno as a man—a fucking werewolf—twice his size ruined him for anyone else.

And god help him, he loved it.

"Fuck, you were made for this," Mason snarled, pounding into him relentlessly. "Made for me ."

The words shouldn't have turned him on. They should've triggered his independence alarm, made him roll his eyes. Instead, they sent electric currents straight to his neglected cock. "Yes," Toby gasped, shocking himself with his honesty. "Yours—only yours."

He managed a breathless laugh. "But if you tell anyone I said that, I'll deny it till I'm dead."

The snarky comment, even as his body trembled on the edge of ecstasy, pulled a rumbling chuckle from Mason's chest. "There's my sharp-tongued boy," Mason growled approvingly, nipping at Toby's earlobe.

Mason's rhythm changed then, his powerful thrusts becoming deeper, harder, more relentless. He pulled Toby's hips up higher, changing the angle until—

"Fuck!" Toby cried out, his back arching off the log as Mason's cock slammed against that perfect spot inside him. Stars exploded behind his eyelids with each brutal thrust. His clever words dissolved into desperate moans as Mason reduced him to nothing but raw sensation and need.

"That's it," Mason snarled, his fingers digging into Toby's flesh. "Let them hear who you belong to."

Huh? Who? Toby raised his head from the log—and froze. Through sweat-dampened hair, he could see the ring of watching werewolves in the shadows, their expressions hungry and primal. His face burned, but instead of wanting to hide, he felt a surge of pride. These powerful creatures wanted him.

"Look how they're watching you," Mason's hot breath tickled his ear. "Every one of them wishes they could take my place."

His cock plunged deeper, finding that spot inside that made Toby's vision blur. "Such a perfect little mate," Mason growled. "They'd kill each other for a chance to breed you. To feel how tight you are."

The crude words should have shocked him, should have made him want to curl up and disappear. Instead, Toby pushed back against Mason's thrusts, seeking more. "Oh god," Toby whimpered, fingers scrabbling uselessly against the rough bark of the log. "Mason, please..."

He wasn't even sure what he was begging for. Harder, faster, more, everything . He just knew he needed Mason like he needed air, craved the feeling of being so thoroughly claimed and possessed.

Mason's hands gripped Toby's hips hard enough to bruise as he pistoned in and out, the obscene slap of skin on skin echoing through the clearing. Toby could feel the heat of the other werewolves' gazes on his exposed body, knew they were drinking in the sight of him being split open on Mason's cock. The knowledge sent twin currents of shame and arousal coursing through him, his untouched erection throbbing between his legs.

He should have felt mortified, being debased like this in front of an audience. But all Toby could focus on was the mounting ecstasy, the sense of rightness. Like his entire life had been leading up to this moment, to being taken and owned by Mason.

No hiding who he really was, no childish power plays—just a werewolf alpha claiming his mate in public for all to see, primal and natural.

Toby tossed his head back with a throaty moan as Mason changed the angle of his thrusts, his thick cock now dragging deliciously over that sensitive bundle of nerves inside him. Sparks of pleasure ignited behind Toby's eyelids, his body quivering as he climbed higher and higher towards the peak.

In that moment, Toby felt cherished, worshipped, like the center of Mason's universe. The shy, awkward boy who had always been overlooked and underestimated was transforming, blossoming under Mason's touch into something wanton and desirable.

Toby keened, desperate. Nothing existed beyond the relentless slide of Mason's cock and the weight of his body. Holy fuck, he was being ruined—absolutely wrecked—and he never wanted it to stop.

"Fuck, look at you take it," Mason growled, his voice rough as gravel. Sweat trickled down his temple as he fought to maintain control. "Gonna fill you up. Make sure every wolf for miles knows who you belong to."

The filthy promise sent a bolt of electric heat straight to Toby's cock. He should've been embarrassed by how much those possessive words turned him on, but he was too far gone to care.

Something tugged at Toby's attention, telling him he should think about something — werewolves, come, breeding…? — but it was impossible to concentrate with Mason pumping into him. His mind went blank, all higher thought processes shutting down until there was nothing but sensation. The heat of Mason's body blanketing him, the musky scent of sweat and arousal, the obscene sound of spit and precome as Mason's cock drove into him over and over.

He could feel his orgasm building, his untouched cock throbbing in time with his racing heartbeat. Mason's thrusts grew erratic, his rhythm getting sharper as his own climax approached.

He was so close, every nerve ending alight with pleasure bordering on pain. Just a little more, a few more perfect hits against that spot inside him...

Then Toby felt it—something impossibly thick pressing against his already stretched entrance.

Oh. Mason's knot.