Page 14 of Stalked (Mating Run #3)

Toby strolled across campus, his shoulders back and head high. The morning sun warmed his skin, and a light breeze ruffled his hair. The weight of his textbooks felt lighter, matched by the lightness in his chest.

A familiar shadow fell across his path. Caleb stood there with his two cronies, their faces twisted in practiced smirks.

They looked so… young. Stupid, prancing little kids. The sight that once would have sent Toby's heart racing now barely registered as an annoyance.

"Well, if it isn't our school's little pet human," Caleb spat, crossing his arms. His friends snickered on cue, like trained dogs performing a trick.

Toby paused, studying Caleb's face. The bully's features were pinched, desperate—a boy playing at being a man. The realization hit Toby like a splash of cold water. This was what he'd been afraid of? This insecure child who could only feel big by trying to make others feel small?

A laugh bubbled up from Toby's chest, genuine and free. The sound caught Caleb off guard, his practiced coolness slipping for a fraction of a second. "What's so funny?" Caleb demanded, but his voice cracked slightly.

"You. You're pathetic," Toby said, grinning. "And I'm done being afraid of you."

The words landed like physical blows. Caleb's mouth opened and closed, but no sound came out. "What the—what the fuck are you talking about? I'm going to make you regret th—"

A low purr of a luxury engine cut him off. A sleek black car rolled to a stop at the curb, its chrome details gleaming in the sunlight. Toby's pulse quickened as the back door opened and Mason emerged, his tall frame unfolding with practiced grace. He wore a charcoal suit that highlighted his broad shoulders, his presence commanding attention without effort.

Caleb's face lit up. "Hey, Dad!" His voice carried a desperate innocence that made Toby's eyes roll.

Mason didn't buy it. His eyes narrowed as they swept over the scene before him. The temperature seemed to drop several degrees as his gaze settled on his son. "Again, Caleb?" Mason's voice was quiet but carried an edge sharp enough to cut glass. "Is this how you represent our pack? After all our discussions, after all your promises to do better?" His disappointment was palpable, hanging in the air between them.

Caleb's face flushed crimson. "I wasn't—"

"Don't." Mason raised one hand, silencing him instantly. "I taught you to be a leader, not a tormentor. You're performing like a trained pup for attention." His gaze flicked dismissively to Caleb's friends, who suddenly seemed very interested in their shoes. "And from who? These two? Are they worth dirtying our family name for?"

Caleb's shoulders slumped, his bravado evaporating under his father's disappointment. He mumbled something under his breath.

Mason's expression softened slightly. He placed a hand on his son's shoulder, his grip firm but not unkind. "You're better than this, kid. I expect to see that better version of you at dinner tonight." He lowered his voice, but Toby could still hear him. "We'll talk more at home."

The mixture of discipline and underlying love in Mason's voice made something in Toby's chest tighten—a complex feeling he couldn't have anticipated. Here was Caleb, who had made Toby's life miserable for so long, receiving a stern but caring correction from his father. And oddly enough, Toby found himself almost enjoying the display.

In the weeks since that night in the forest, Toby had spent enough time at the Blackwood house to see this side of Mason regularly—the attentive father who expected excellence but offered guidance to achieve it. It was so different from the dominant Alpha werewolf who marked Toby's skin with bruising kisses in private, or the powerful businessman who commanded respect in public.

This was Mason at his most human, perhaps—caring enough to correct, loving enough to expect better. It probably said something about Toby's psychology that he found this aspect of Mason equally attractive. Some long-buried daddy issues, he told himself wryly.

And then Mason turned to Toby, his stern expression melting into something warmer as he placed a hand at the small of Toby's back. "Ready for lunch?"

Toby bit the inside of his cheek, fighting to keep his expression neutral as Mason guided him toward the waiting car. The look on Caleb's face—a mixture of shock, embarrassment, and dawning comprehension as he watched his father's gentle treatment of Toby—was almost comical. The classmate that once held such power over him now seemed small, almost pitiful. Mason settled beside him, his thigh pressing against Toby's in a way that sent sparks through his body.

As the car pulled away, Toby caught one last glimpse of Caleb in the side mirror. He stood frozen on the sidewalk, his cronies forgotten, looking lost and diminished in the growing distance. A weight lifted from Toby's chest.

The privacy screen slid up with a soft mechanical purr, cutting them off from the driver's watchful eyes. For a moment, they simply looked at each other, the air between them charged with three days of separation.

"Hi," Toby said, his voice softer than he intended, betraying how much he'd missed this man.

Mason's green eyes darkened as they traveled slowly over Toby's face, drinking him in like a man who'd been wandering in the desert. "You look tired," he observed, thumb brushing gently beneath Toby's eye where finals-week shadows had formed.

"Turns out werewolf mating rituals aren't covered in any of my textbooks," Toby quipped. "Had to improvise on my paper."

The joke earned him a low chuckle, but Mason's eyes remained intent, hungry. "Three days is too long," he murmured, the simple admission sending a shiver down Toby's spine.

"It was just a business trip," Toby reminded him, though his body was already leaning forward, drawn by the gravitational pull between them.

"Too. Long." Mason repeated, each word deliberate and heavy with meaning.

Toby found himself pulled onto Mason's lap, his body molding perfectly against the older man's strong frame. Mason's arms encircled him, holding him close, and Toby's heart raced

Their lips met, tentative for only a heartbeat before the hunger took over. Toby moaned against Mason's mouth, his body awakening like it had been sleepwalking these past three days.

"God, I missed you," Toby breathed as Mason's lips traveled to the sensitive spot beneath his ear. "Essay writing is no substitute for—oh!" His words dissolved into a gasp as Mason's teeth grazed his neck, sending electricity racing down his spine.

The kiss deepened, Mason's tongue claiming Toby's mouth with the same authoritative command he'd shown in the forest. Toby melted against him, his bones turning liquid as Mason's large hands slid beneath his shirt, palms hot against his skin.

"Come here," Mason growled against his mouth, repositioning Toby until he was properly straddling the older man's lap. The movement pressed Toby directly against the unmistakable hardness in Mason's expensive slacks.

"Already?" Toby teased, grinding down deliberately and delighting in the sharp intake of breath it elicited. "Is that for me, or has the stock market been particularly exciting today?"

Mason's eyes flashed with that now-familiar preternatural light. "Keep talking," he challenged, one hand sliding around to grip Toby's ass possessively. "See what happens."

"You know your whole scary wolf thing just makes me hotter, right?" Toby rolled his hips again, biting his lip at the delicious friction. "Three days without you and I've been going crazy. Had to use that toy you got me, but it's not the same. Doesn't fill me up like you do."

A rumbling growl vibrated through Mason's chest. Both his hands were kneading Toby's ass now, guiding his movements as they rocked together. "Did you think of me?" he asked, voice rough with desire. "When you were using it?"

"Every time," Toby admitted, feeling his cheeks flush even as he continued to grind down against Mason's erection. "But the toy doesn't talk back. Doesn't tell me how good I am, doesn't make those sounds you make when you're about to lose control." He leaned forward, lips brushing Mason's ear. "Doesn't come inside me."

The words had their intended effect. Mason's control visibly frayed, his hands tightening to the point of bruising as he captured Toby's mouth in a kiss that was almost savage in its intensity.

Mason's hand slid around to the front of Toby's pants, his fingers working deftly to unfasten them. Toby's breath caught in his throat as Mason's hand slipped inside, cupping his aching cock through his boxers. The touch was light, teasing, but it was enough to make Toby's hips buck forward, seeking more.

"Please," Toby whimpered, his voice thick with need. "Touch me."

A sudden thought pierced through his haze of arousal. "The driver—" Toby whispered, eyes darting toward the privacy screen. "He might hear us."

Mason's low chuckle vibrated against Toby's throat where his lips were pressed. "He knows better than to listen," he growled, unconcerned. He slipped Toby's pants down, baring him. "He knows what happens when an alpha gets his mate alone."

The casual possessiveness in those words sent a fresh wave of heat through Toby's body. God, that shouldn't be as hot as it was, the idea of being claimed so thoroughly that Mason didn't care who knew. It was primal and inappropriate and absolutely, devastatingly arousing.

Mason obliged Toby's earlier plea, his hand wrapping around Toby's cock and stroking him with slow, deliberate movements. Toby's head fell back, a moan escaping his lips. The pleasure was intense, almost too much to bear, but he craved more.

This is insane, Toby thought, even as his hips thrust helplessly into Mason's grip. Having sex in the back of a car like a pair of horny teenagers. Not exactly the responsible student image he'd tried to maintain. And yet here he was, whimpering and grinding against Mason in broad daylight, hoping the tinted windows were as opaque as they looked.

Not that that was going to stop him.

Toby's own hands fumbled with Mason's pants, desperate to feel the heat of his skin. He managed to unfasten them, his fingers trembling with excitement as he freed Mason's cock. It was hard, the head already glistening with precome. Toby's mouth watered at the sight.

No matter how many times he saw Mason like this, it still sent a thrill of disbelieving joy through him. This powerful man wanting him with such raw, unfiltered need. College life had never prepared him for this—for the visceral feeling of being both prey and prize.

Toby's breath hitched as Mason's free hand slipped into his suit jacket, retrieving a small packet that he pressed firmly into Toby's palm. The wordless command was clear—clearer still in the hungry intensity of Mason's gaze.

Toby didn't hesitate. Couldn't, even if he'd wanted to. They'd fallen into this rhythm so naturally, this dance of command and willing surrender. His fingers trembled as he tore open the packet, his heart racing, pounding in his chest as he squeezed the cool, slick substance onto his palm.

Mason leaned back against the luxurious leather car seats, his eyes half-lidded with dominant pleasure as he watched Toby prepare to satisfy them both. Not a single word needed to pass between them—Mason's desire was Toby's desire, their needs perfectly aligned.

Toby's breath hitched as he wrapped his hand around Mason's thick, hard cock. He loved the feel of it, the weight and heat against his skin. Mason's cock was perfect, long and thick, with a slight curve that Toby knew would hit all the right spots inside him. He stroked it reverently, spreading the lube from base to tip, his fingers gliding over the silky smooth skin.

The sensations were incredible, the slickness of the lube mixing with the heat of Mason's cock. Toby could feel every ridge and vein as he worked his hand up and down the shaft, his own arousal growing with each stroke. He loved the way Mason's cock twitched in his grip, the way the head glistened with precome. Toby's mouth watered at the sight, the urge to taste Mason almost overwhelming.

"You should see yourself," Mason murmured, his voice a deep rumble that Toby felt in his bones. "The look on your face when you touch me. Like you're worshipping me."

Toby didn't deny it. How could he, when it was the truth? Still, he had a reputation to keep up. "You're the one that couldn't wait until after class before snatching me away."

Before Mason could react, Toby was lifting himself up, positioning his body over Mason's lap with newfound confidence. The hesitation of their early days together was gone, replaced by someone who knew exactly what he wanted—and how to take it. Mason's strong hands found Toby's waist, steadying him as the slick head of his cock pressed against Toby's entrance. The contact alone was electric, sending currents of anticipation racing through Toby's nervous system.

Their eyes locked in that moment of breathless suspension. Mason's gaze asked the question his lips didn't need to form. Toby answered with a quick nod, his bottom lip caught between his teeth. Yes. God, yes.

As Toby began to sink down, the burn and stretch made him gasp. His body resisted, then yielded, opening up for Mason as it always did. The sensation walked that exquisite line between pleasure and pain that never failed to make Toby's mind go beautifully blank.

"Fuck," Toby hissed, fingernails digging half-moons into Mason's shoulders as he took him deeper. The reality of what they were doing—Toby impaling himself on the alpha werewolf CEO in the back of a moving car—sent a forbidden thrill through him, making him clench involuntarily around Mason's thickness.

Mason's hands tightened on Toby's hips, his fingers pressing hard enough to leave marks. "Easy," he murmured, though his strained voice betrayed his own struggle for control. "We have time."

But Toby didn't want easy. Didn't want slow. Three days without Mason had left an emptiness that needed filling: now, completely, without gentleness. "I don't want time," Toby breathed, rolling his hips experimentally as he adjusted to the fullness. "I want you ."

A low growl rumbled from Mason's chest as his hands guided Toby into a rhythm. Toby's fingers splayed across Mason's chest, feeling the thundering heartbeat beneath expensive fabric. Such raw power contained in tailored perfection, the contradiction of Mason that never failed to intoxicate him. "That's it," Mason purred, his voice darkened to a rough-edged timbre that Toby felt as much as heard. "Take what you need."

The words hit Toby like a physical touch. He loved this—Mason giving him control while somehow still commanding the entire encounter. Permission wrapped in ownership. It made Toby feel simultaneously empowered and claimed.

"What I need," Toby gasped, picking up speed as pleasure began to override the discomfort, "is for you to fuck me so hard I feel it through my entire Ancient Civilizations final tomorrow."

A dangerous light flashed in Mason's eyes—challenge accepted.

Mason's cock hit a spot inside Toby that made him see stars, a cry falling from his lips. He angled his hips, trying to hit that spot again and again, desperate for more of that mind-blowing sensation. The car swayed as they rounded a corner, adding an unexpected element to their rhythm, causing Mason to slide even deeper. Toby's thighs trembled with the effort of rising and falling, but suddenly Mason's grip on his hips tightened, those powerful hands taking control.

"Let me," Mason growled, and then Toby was being lifted and dropped in a pace he couldn't have maintained on his own. The force of it knocked the breath from his lungs with each downward motion.

Outside the tinted windows, the world continued—people walking, cars passing—oblivious to the fact that Toby was coming undone in Mason's lap. The car hit a small bump in the road, the jolt sending Mason impossibly deeper, making Toby bite his fist to keep from screaming. His body bounced helplessly in Mason's iron grip, the man's supernatural strength allowing him to use Toby as though he weighed nothing.

"Oh god, oh god," Toby panted, one hand braced against the car's ceiling as Mason established a punishing rhythm that matched the pulsing heartbeat in his ears. The leather seats creaked beneath them, the sound mixing with the hum of the engine and Toby's increasingly desperate moans. Each time Mason pulled him down, his cock struck that perfect spot with unerring precision, sending white-hot waves of pleasure crackling through every nerve ending.

"Right there," Toby gasped, his voice tight with need. "Don't stop. Please don't stop."

Mason's grip tightened, his thrusts becoming more forceful. He pounded into Toby, the wet sound of skin on skin filling the car. Toby's cock bounced with each movement, precome leaking from the tip, smearing against his stomach. "Look at you," Mason growled, his eyes raking over Toby's body. "So fucking beautiful. So perfect on my cock."

Toby's mind raced with the knowledge that the driver could hear every sound they made, every moan and gasp of pleasure. The privacy screen might shield them from sight, but it did nothing to muffle the symphony of their passion. Rather than embarrassment, the thought sent an illicit thrill racing up his spine, his body clenching tighter around Mason in response. Each noise became more deliberate, a performance as much as an expression—the wet slapping sounds of their bodies meeting, the hitch in Toby's breathing when Mason hit that perfect spot, the low rumbling growls that vibrated through Mason's chest.

The car slowed at a traffic light, and Toby caught a blurry glimpse of pedestrians just feet away through the tinted window. So close, yet completely unaware of the claiming happening on the other side of the glass. What would they think if they knew? The polished, intimidating CEO of Blackwood Enterprises, with his carefully cultivated public image, fucking his young lover senseless in broad daylight?

A stray memory surfaced in Toby's pleasure-hazed mind—hunched over his phone at 2 AM in his old apartment, carefully angling a shirtless bathroom selfie, fishing for validation from strangers. How many nights had he spent that way? Editing photos, crafting just the right caption, then refreshing endlessly for hearts and fire emojis from men whose real names he'd never know. The hollow rush of superficial desire, a digital balm for the ache of real loneliness.

How laughable that seemed now, as Mason's hands branded his hips with possessive heat. As if those disembodied compliments could ever compare to the raw hunger in Mason's eyes when he looked at Toby. As if carefully posed thirst traps could match the bone-deep satisfaction of being truly seen, truly wanted—sweat-slick and messy, making unflattering faces in the throes of genuine pleasure.

Toby laughed softly, the sound mixing with a moan as Mason hit that perfect spot inside him again. He didn't miss his old life, not one bit. Not when he had the real thing, a mate who saw him, all of him—and adored every inch. He rode Mason with abandon, his hips rising and falling in a steady rhythm. Each downward thrust drove Mason's cock deep inside him, filling him so completely that he saw stars.

Mason's thrusts became more urgent, more desperate. His grip on Toby's hips tightened, his fingers digging into the soft flesh. Toby could tell he was close too, could feel the way his cock pulsed inside him, could hear the raggedness of his breath.

"Come for me, baby," Mason growled, his voice strained with the effort of holding back his own release. "I want to feel you come on my cock."

God, he was so weak for Mason's commands—always had been, always would be. That authoritative tone bypassed his brain entirely, shooting straight to his cock.

"Mason—I'm—" was all Toby managed before his orgasm slammed into him. No gentle waves of pleasure this time: this was a fucking tidal wave, dragging him under. His cock pulsed violently, come shooting across Mason's ridiculously expensive shirt. Oops. Except not really, because there was something deeply satisfying about leaving his mark on the perfectly put-together CEO that way.

"Fuck, you feel so good," Toby gasped through the aftershocks, grinding down harder, determined to push Mason over the edge with him. "Want to feel you come inside me."

Mason's response was a sound that couldn't possibly have come from human vocal cords—a rumbling snarl that vibrated through Toby's very bones. His hips snapped up with enough force to lift Toby slightly off the seat. One brutal thrust and Mason was coming, pumping him full, claiming him in the most primal way possible.

Holy hell. The sensation of Mason's hot release filling him triggered another shock wave of pleasure that had Toby seeing white. His thighs quivered uncontrollably, completely spent. "Jesus christ," Toby panted, collapsing against Mason's chest. "Jesus—Fuck."

Mason's laugh was low and satisfied as he wrapped strong arms around Toby's trembling form. "So eloquent," he murmured, pressing his lips to Toby's temple.

"Can't form... proper sentences... after that," Toby mumbled against Mason's neck. His heart was still racing like he'd run a marathon, and he could feel an answering pulse where they remained joined.

Mason's hands, which had left bruises minutes earlier, now traced gentle patterns along Toby's spine. The duality of him never failed to amaze Toby—how those powerful hands could destroy or cherish with equal devotion.

"You're perfect," Mason whispered into his hair. "So perfect for me."

Toby closed his eyes, breathing in Mason's scent—designer cologne layered over something wild and untamable. "Says the actual physical embodiment of perfection," he retorted, but snuggled closer, secretly thrilled by the praise.

Outside their little bubble, streetlights flickered by, casting shadows across their intertwined bodies. Toby knew they should probably clean up, put themselves back together before they reached the restaurant. But not yet. Just a few more moments in this perfect space where nothing existed but the two of them.

"Think the driver deserves a massive tip," Toby murmured, a slightly hysterical laugh bubbling up as reality began creeping back in. "Hazard pay for werewolf sex transportation services."

Mason's chest rumbled with suppressed laughter. "Worth every penny," he said, tilting Toby's chin up for a kiss that was surprisingly tender after the frenzy of before.

Toby's mind drifted as he lay in Mason's arms, his body sated and his heart full. He thought back to the shy, insecure boy he'd been just a short time ago, the one who'd hidden his desires behind a screen, too afraid to reach for what he truly wanted.

That boy seemed like a stranger now, a distant memory of a life that no longer fit.

Everyone had always told him to get over being bullied.

No-one had ever told him that this was one way to do it.