Page 8 of Stalked (Mating Run #3)

Chapter eight

Toby

Before he could overthink it, Toby turned in Mason's arms and dropped to his knees in the soft forest earth. He looked up, taking in the full sight of Mason for the first time.

Holy. Fucking. Shit.

Mason Blackwood was goddamn magnificent in the moonlight, like some pagan god of sex and violence. His shoulders were broad enough to block out the stars, chest dusted with that silver-streaked hair that narrowed down to where his cock— Jesus, that COCK —stood thick and proud against his stomach. His face was all sharp angles and shadows, that perfectly trimmed beard framing a jaw that could've been carved from granite.

But those eyes. Those fucking eyes . They burned into Toby with a hunger that made his stomach drop like he'd just plummeted off a cliff. Mason wasn't just looking at him—he was seeing him. All of him. The parts Toby showed to the world and the parts he kept hidden even from himself.

He's beautiful , the thought blindsided Toby, punching through years of practiced denial. Not just hot or fuckable— beautiful . The kind of beautiful that made you want to write terrible poetry and burn down cities.

Toby licked his lips, watching Mason's pupils expand like black holes.

"Well?" Toby said, aiming for defiant but hitting breathless instead. "Are you going to make me beg for it?"

Please don't make me beg , his mind raced frantically. I absolutely would, and we both know it, but let me keep at least one shred of my dignity intact.

Mason's hand tangled in Toby's hair, tugging just enough to make his scalp tingle. The sting lit up nerve endings Toby hadn't even known he possessed.

"No," Mason said, his voice a rumble that Toby could feel in his fucking bones . "But I might make you choke on it."

Christ on a bicycle , Toby thought, heat flooding his face. Who actually SAYS shit like that? And why is my dick trying to explode about it?

A shiver raced down Toby's spine at the promise. His cock twitched, leaking like a broken faucet. He was way too horny to be embarrassed by how Mason's words were turning him into a quivering mess.

"Big talk," Toby said, raising an eyebrow in challenge. Even on his knees, naked and desperate, his mouth was still writing checks his ass might not be able to cash. "Let's see if you can back it up."

Keep pushing, you idiot , Toby thought recklessly. See what happens when you poke the apex predator with a stick.

Something dangerous flashed in Mason's eyes at the challenge, and for a moment, Toby wondered if he'd pushed too far. But then Mason's lips curved in a predatory smile that made Toby's stomach do a full Olympic gymnastics routine.

"Open," Mason commanded, guiding the head of his cock to Toby's lips.

Toby hesitated for just a heartbeat—one last moment of can I really do this? —before the hungry, demanding look in Mason's eyes demolished his final defenses. He parted his lips, Mason's thumb gently pressing down on his bottom lip, and suddenly the moment transformed from theoretical to breathtakingly, irrevocably real.

Toby's lips wrapped around Mason's cock, the firm warmth filling his mouth. His heart pounded so hard he could feel it in his ears, every beat sending waves of nervous excitement through him.

I'm actually doing this. I'm actually sucking his cock. He'd never done this before, never had the courage to go beyond the anonymity of photos and videos. Now, here he was, on his knees in the dirt, Mason's hard cock pressing against his tongue.

The taste was unexpected: salty, musky, undeniably masculine. Nothing like he'd imagined during those nights alone with his fantasies. It was better. Realer. Toby's eyes fluttered shut as he focused on the sensation, the raw intimacy of it. Mason's hand rested on the back of his head—not forcing but present, a gentle reminder of who was in control.

Don't fuck this up , Toby thought, panic briefly cutting through the haze of arousal. Don't be bad at the one thing you've thought about for years.

He bobbed his head experimentally, feeling the ridges and veins of Mason's cock against his tongue. Each movement sent shivers through him, the reality of what he was doing hitting him with full force. This wasn't just anyone; this was Mason Blackwood —the intimidating, authoritative man who had captivated him from their first meeting.

"That's it," Mason murmured, his voice deeper, rougher than Toby had ever heard it. "Just like that."

The praise sent a thrill through Toby's body, straight to his neglected cock. He moaned around Mason's length, the vibration making Mason's grip in his hair tighten.

"You like that?" Mason asked, a hint of amusement in his tone. "You like knowing you're doing well?"

Toby couldn't answer, not with his mouth full, but he looked up through his lashes, meeting Mason's glowing eyes. The intensity of Mason's gaze made him dizzy.

The promise in that gaze sent another pulse of desire through Toby. He fell into a rhythm, the initial awkwardness giving way to a fluid motion that had Mason's breathing growing heavier. With each pass of his lips, Toby gained confidence, experimenting with pressure and speed, cataloging which movements drew the strongest reactions from Mason.

A light sweep of his tongue across the sensitive underside of the head made Mason's hips jerk forward. A gentle suction while moving upward drew a deep groan from his chest. A firmer grip with his hand while focusing his mouth on just the tip had Mason's thighs tensing beneath Toby's free hand.

It was intoxicating, having this power. Being able to affect someone as controlled as Mason Blackwood. Toby's own cock throbbed between his legs, neglected but rock hard.

"Look at you," Mason said, voice strained with pleasure. "So natural. Like your mouth was made for my cock."

The crude praise should have embarrassed Toby. Instead, it sent another wave of heat through him. He moaned around Mason's length, the vibration making Mason's grip tighten reflexively—

A twig snapped somewhere to their left, the sound sharp in the quiet forest.

Toby froze, Mason's cock still in his mouth, as reality came crashing back. They weren't alone. They had an audience of werewolves—dangerous, powerful creatures driven by the same primal urges that had Mason hunting him through the woods.

He pulled off Mason with a wet pop, eyes wide as they darted toward the sound. "The others," he whispered, suddenly remembering the gleaming eyes he'd seen earlier. "They're still watching."

Mason's hand cupped Toby's jaw, drawing his attention back. "Yes," he said simply. "They are."

"Aren't you worried they might..." Toby trailed off, not entirely sure what he was asking. Challenge Mason? Try to take Toby for themselves?

Mason's smile was pure predator. "No," he said, absolute confidence in his voice. "They know better than to challenge me for what's mine."

Mine. The word hit Toby like a physical blow, sending a confusing mix of indignation and desire through him. He wasn't a possession. He wasn't property.

And yet...

"They won't touch you," Mason continued, thumb tracing Toby's lower lip. "You're safe. They're just watching because they can't help themselves. Because you're beautiful like this. Because they wish they had what I have."

There was something in his tone, something Toby couldn't quite identify, that made him believe Mason absolutely. Mason wasn't concerned about the others because he knew, without question, that none of them were a threat to him.

The knowledge should have scared Toby. Instead, it sent a thrill through him. He was on his knees in the moonlight, surrounded by werewolves, servicing an alpha. And he was perfectly, absolutely safe.

It was the most dangerous thing Toby had ever done, and yet he'd never felt more secure.

A strange giddiness bubbled up inside him—part adrenaline, part arousal, part the sheer ridiculousness of the situation. If someone had told him this morning that he'd end the day on his knees in the forest, sucking Mason Blackwood's cock while a pack of werewolves watched, he'd have laughed in their face.

Yet here he was. And he was enjoying it.

"Let them watch, then," Toby said, a new confidence in his voice. "Let them see exactly what they're missing."

Mason's eyes darkened, his grip tightening in Toby's hair. "Is that so?" he asked, something dangerous and thrilling in his tone. "You want to show off for them? Show them how good you are for me?"

"Yes," Toby admitted, the word falling from his lips before he could stop it.

Mason's answering smile was wicked. "Then show them," he commanded.

The challenge in Mason's voice sparked something in Toby—something reckless and wild that had been buried beneath years of careful restraint. He leaned forward, maintaining eye contact with Mason as he licked a slow, deliberate stripe up the underside of Mason's cock, from base to tip. The muscle jumped beneath his tongue, a bead of precome gathering at the slit. Toby lapped it up, savoring the salty taste, putting on a show of enjoying it.

"Fuck," Mason breathed, the curse barely audible.

Emboldened, Toby wrapped his lips around the head of Mason's cock again, sucking lightly as his tongue swirled around the sensitive crown. He hollowed his cheeks, creating a tight suction that had Mason's hips jerking forward involuntarily.

Toby took a deep breath, relaxing his throat as he'd learned, and took Mason's cock in one smooth motion, deeper than he had before. The stretch was intense, bordering on uncomfortable, but the groan that tore from Mason's throat was worth it.

Toby began to bob his head in earnest, no longer tentative or exploratory. Each downward motion took Mason deeper, each upward slide was accompanied by firm suction. He found a rhythm that felt natural, his hand working in tandem with his mouth, twisting slightly on the upstroke in a way that had Mason's thighs tensing beneath his free hand.

"Fuck, Toby," Mason growled, his composure slipping. "Your mouth…"

The praise spurred Toby on. He moaned around Mason's length, the vibration traveling through both of them. His free hand moved from Mason's thigh to his own aching cock, wrapping around himself and stroking in time with his movements on Mason—

"Oh no," Mason said, noticing the motion. He reached down, capturing Toby's wrist and pulling his hand away from himself. "Not yet. You come when I say you can come."

The command sent a pulse of need through Toby so strong it was almost painful. He whimpered around Mason's cock but didn't slow his movements, determined now to drive Mason to the edge first.

He could feel eyes on them from the darkness—multiple sets, watching intently. The knowledge added an edge to his arousal, a performance aspect that pushed him to try harder, to be better. To show them all exactly why Mason had chosen him.

Mason's grip in his hair tightened, guiding him into a faster pace. "Look at me," he commanded.

Toby's eyes snapped up, meeting Mason's gaze. The connection was electric, intense in a way Toby hadn't expected. Mason's eyes burned into his, seeing everything—the desire, the need, the desperation.

"I'm going to come in that pretty little mouth," Mason said, the words more statement than question. "And you're going to swallow every drop."

Toby moaned around the thickness stretching his lips, a sound that meant please and now and let me prove myself —all wrapped into one desperate vibration.

That was it. Game over. Mason's face transformed, control shattering like glass as his grip turned brutal in Toby's hair. His hips jerked forward—not enough to choke, but enough to claim —as a sound ripped from his chest that was barely human. More wolf than man. More primal than civilized.

The first shot hit the back of Toby's throat like liquid fire—hot, salty, slightly bitter. Oh my god I'm swallowing come. Mason Blackwood's come. Holy shit— His thoughts scattered like startled birds as Mason pulsed against his tongue again. It kept coming, filling his mouth faster than he could swallow.

Toby's own cock throbbed painfully between his legs, so hard it hurt, begging for attention, for release, for anything . But he wouldn't dream of touching himself now, not when he was determined to prove he could take everything Mason had to give.

He swallowed and swallowed, never breaking that intense eye contact. See what I can do? See how good I am?

When the pulses finally slowed, Toby gave Mason's cock one final, lingering suck, a cherry-on-top gesture that pulled a shuddering aftershock from the man above him, before letting him slip from between his swollen lips.

Mason's expression was a mix of satisfaction and something else—something almost tender that made Toby's chest tight. He cupped Toby's face, thumb brushing over his swollen lower lip.

"Good boy," Mason praised, his voice rough.

Toby leaned into the touch, a strange feeling of accomplishment washing over him. He'd never thought his first time giving head would be in the middle of a forest with an audience of supernatural creatures, but somehow, it felt right. Perfect, even, in its wild, reckless way.

"Now," Mason said, his hand settling around Toby's neck, "it's your turn."