Page 9

Jax

I have all of five seconds before I realize what is actually happening, because I can barely comprehend anything except the weight of my cock in my hand.

I snap open my eyes, turning to see Mason through the glass shower door, his amber eyes flashing from the robe on the floor to me .

My cock pulses, despite the fact I feel frozen in place.

A part of me thinks maybe he’s just in here to take a piss or something, but when I see him casually remove his shirt, then his pants, leaving them atop the robe on the floor, I can’t deny that every ounce of me perks up with delight.

Heat envelopes me, and I know it’s not entirely from the rainfall showerhead, or the water itself.

I let out a slow breath as I rub my finger over my leaking slit, my gaze locked on his as he saunters across the small divide, opening the glass door. Up close like this, with the light illuminating him from behind, he looks every bit like a devil; tempting and so fucking divine.

“Thought you were tied up with dessert,” I say, my voice betraying no hint of how nervous his proximity is making me.

I fight really hard not to look down at his cock, which I know is on full display.

I don’t want him to think I’m that easy, but the truth is …

My gaze dips without much resistance, because I am that easy.

“I am,” he says, his voice thick with lust as he closes the door. He takes a step closer to me, which makes me take a step backward, though I don’t feel uncomfortable, like I know I should. In fact, it’s the exact opposite .

My cock throbs in my hand as I lay my gaze on his.

Last night I hadn’t gotten the best look because it was dark, but I could tell by the way he filled my hand he was sizable, and my judgment had been more than correct.

His thick, solid cock on display before me makes my mouth water, and my own cock throbs as a flurry of very inappropriate thoughts perpetuate my brain. If insanity is part of this Jack-O-Lantern curse, I think I might be in trouble.

My back hits the tile wall, the side sprayers hitting both of us like kamikaze fountains of rain.

I’ve never been backed up against the fucking wall before, and I know I should be concerned—worried, even.

But I’m not in the least, and certainly not when Mason leans one hand out, bracing his palm against the tile by my shoulder. His gaze implores mine.

“I’m not much of a fan of apples, but—” Mason stops midsentence.

His amber eyes of fire glisten with a gold sheen that makes me think of Grandpa’s stories.

In all the ones he’d told me, the part that always stood out to me was the part where all my ancestors got to find their treasure.

I’d always assumed it was gold, because what ten-year-old thinks treasure means anything else.

I’d always imagined maybe I would grow up to find some fabled treasure, some pirate chest full of gold and gems or something—like that was my legacy as a Gallagher, not turning into a fucking pumpkin.

Looking in Mason’s eyes, something clicks. It’s like I know this man is my treasure, even if it makes not a lick of sense.

“But what, Mason?” My voice lowers an octave, my gaze falling to his perfect lips.

I struggle to inhale when I feel his hand on mine. The one covering my dick, to be exact. I let him push my hand away, relishing in the warmth of his hand around my cock.

“I’ve always been more of a pumpkin guy.”

My lips turn up into a wicked grin as I lay my hand on his hip. He makes no move to push me away. Instead, he settles his grip on my cock, slowly pumping my shaft, the same way I did for him last night.

“You don’t say,” I taunt as I lift my chin, thrusting against his hand. My head is spinning, and I don’t want him to stop, but he does. And for a moment, I think he’s going to realize what’s happening, and things are going to go up in fucking smoke, but they don’t.

Instead, Mason drops to his knees, taking my cock into his damn mouth, drawing out a surprised cry from my throat. It’s been a good while since anyone has had their mouth on my cock, but Goddamn!

My eyes shut as my entire body tenses, like every nerve, every part of my body is controlled by him . His hands slide up my thighs, and I reach out one hand to brace myself against the wall. Instead, I find soft, wet hair. It feels good between my fingers, so I don’t fight it.

“Mhmm,” he murmurs around my cock, his tongue circling me before pressing into my slit. With one hand, he cradles my balls while the other squeezes my ass, pulling me closer, deeper, until I hit the back of his throat.

“Oh fuck,” I curse, my pleasure building as that familiar gooey-warm-mushy feeling returns. Everything feels like at any minute, I might explode into a million tiny pieces.

Instinct takes over as my hips thrust forward, eliciting a deep moan from the man with my cock down his throat.

Pumpkin Whisperer, indeed …

“Mason,” I try to speak coherently, but it’s hard to focus on anything other than the fact I feel like I might come any blasted second.

His fingernails sink into my ass, and he doubles down, until my eyes can barely stay open, until my legs feel like they might give out.

My grip in his hair tightens as I come undone with a groan that is strained and euphoric, because I’m acutely aware that nothing and no one has ever felt this good sucking my damn cock. I want to fucking scream as I brace my free arm against the tile wall.

I come—hard. So hard, I think I see spots behind my eyelids, but Mason just keeps on sucking, drinking me like I’m his favorite dessert.

“Mm,” he moans, his tongue lapping at me as he squeezes my ass, swallowing every fucking drop.

I’m somewhat embarrassed to say there’s a lot, way more than usual.

When I return to earth, the water’s run cold.

Mason stands, wiping the back of his mouth with his hand, the grin on his face truly a work of art.

Maybe I kiss him because he’s damn perfect. Maybe it’s because I’ve never felt so fucking amazing in my life. Either way, I don’t fight what feels so right.

I pull him against me, taking his lips against my own. As my tongue strokes his, all I can taste is the sweetness of pumpkin spice, and I melt all over again.