Page 43 of Twisted Trails (Rogue Riders Duet #2)

His mouth finds the inside of my thigh, and I gasp, my whole body locking for a second before melting into him.

His stubble scratches as he plants open-mouthed kisses up my leg.

When he reaches my center, his tongue flicks out, teasing the place I really want him, and my knees nearly buckle.

His free hand slides behind my other leg, anchoring me to him, and I grab his hair as I let out a shaky breath.

He continues teasing me. Kissing. Nipping. His teeth graze just enough to make me shiver.

“So soft.” He nuzzles the inside of my thigh, his breath hot against my core. “ Fuck, Bambi . You don’t even know what you do to me.”

If it’s anything like what he’s doing to me now, I do. I’m already soaked for him, thighs trembling, heat curling low and tight inside me.

I want him to have all of it.

Because in this moment, I’m not broken. I’m not fighting to prove myself. I’m just a woman wanting the man on his knees before her.

And he’s looking up at me like I’m the goddamn moon.

His dark eyes flare as he drags his hand from the back of my knee to the curve of my pussy. He pauses again, his fingers ghosting there, that same question written across his face.

“You say you always watch me. That we don’t hide from each other. You know exactly what I think and what I want better than anyone.” My fingers slide deeper into his hair, pulling his head back to make sure he sees the truth in my eyes. “You don’t have to ask what I want. You already know it .”

His lips part, and he exhales one word that sounds like a confession and a curse all at once. “ Fuck .”

Then he surges forward and licks me, memorizing me, and rewriting every fucked-up moment that’s ever made me feel inadequate.

His hands grip me tighter as he works me open, his tongue moving with purposeful flicks, then deeper strokes that make my whole body arch.

I cry out, my hips jerking against his mouth before I can stop them. My hand fists harder in his hair, anchoring myself to him as my knees tremble.

He groans low against me, the vibration making my legs twitch and my belly tighten. He buries his face deeper, eating me out like he’s fucking starving for me.

Then he slides two fingers into me, and they curl just right, stroking that sensitive, aching spot inside me while his tongue continues to circle and suck at my clit.

“Yes,” I breathe out, barely able to form the word. My head falls back, eyes fluttering shut. “Mason?—”

Heat spirals out from my center, building fast, and I try to hold on, try to delay the edge he’s pushing me toward, but it’s no use.

I shatter.

My body bows as pleasure detonates through me, and I sob out his name as I come, pulsing around his fingers. His tongue doesn’t stop moving, like he wants every last tremor from me.

Mason stays there, licking, tasting me with slow, wet kisses like he’s savoring the wreckage he caused. Then his lips start to travel upward as he stands, moving across my hipbone, my stomach, the underside of my breast, my sternum, the hollow between my collarbones.

He’s worshiping me.

One kiss at a time.

When his mouth finds my throat, I feel tears prick behind my eyes because not too long ago, I was sure I would lose him.

I reach for the hem of his jersey and tug, wordlessly telling him what I want.

He gets it immediately and pulls the fabric over his head, muscles flexing.

I help him peel off the chest guard next, my fingers brushing over soft skin, and then his pants and padded boxers follow, sliding down his thighs in one fluid motion.

He stands there tall, lean, and utterly beautiful.

My gaze drifts over every inch of him—his defined chest, the curve of his hipbones, the dark trail of hair leading down his stomach to the thick length of his cock. My thighs clench at the sight of him, and I feel how wet I am from the orgasm he just gave me.

I sit down on my bunk, drinking him in with my eyes. “You’re beautiful.”

He pauses mid-step, blinking like he didn’t expect that.

“No, seriously.” I grin, biting my bottom lip as I reach out and run my fingertips over the lines of his chest, lingering where his heart pounds strongly beneath my touch. “Luc’s right. You are a pretty boy.”

He narrows his eyes, amusement flickering in them as he pushes me onto my back, then dips his head low and nips at my nipple in retaliation.

I gasp, body jerking under his mouth. “Mason.”

“That’s what you get,” he mutters, his smirk brushing against my skin.

Then he shifts again, bracing himself as he climbs into the bunk and over me.

His body covers mine, caging me in without making me feel trapped.

His hands slide down to my thighs, and he spreads them apart, guiding them open with possessive care.

I let them fall wide for him, my breath catching the second I feel the blunt head of his cock brush against my still-swollen pussy.

His eyes find mine, and everything stops as he cups my face, cradling it with both hands, and the way he looks at me, full of things he hasn’t said out loud, hits me so hard I forget how to breathe.

Like he’s baring his whole soul.

Every scar.

Every quiet hope.

Every jagged, bleeding piece of himself.

And I meet him there. No hiding. No mask.

I let it all show, every ounce of trust I’ve fought to rebuild, every drop of longing I’ve tried to swallow, the love that’s been curling in my chest since the night he looked at me like I wasn’t broken at all.

He nudges forward, and I gasp as he pushes inside, stretching me, filling me, never once breaking eye contact. His brows pinch slightly as he settles into me with a deep groan, and my nails dig into his back, trying to ground myself in the flood of sensation.

He starts moving with slow, deep thrusts, but it’s already too much. All of it. His body, his heat, his eyes still locked on mine.

Overwhelmed, I let my head fall back and my eyes fall shut, and he stills. Mason’s fingers are firm on my chin, tilting my face back toward his.

“You look away, and I stop.”

I swallow, nodding, forcing my eyes open, and he moves again, every thrust dragging across that perfect spot, making my toes curl. We stay locked like that, eyes open, hearts exposed, as he fucks me in the most deliberate way I’ve ever been touched. Like every inch of me matters, and I’m his.

When he kisses me again, it’s hot and full of need, and I open for him, moaning into his mouth. His lips trail down to my throat, then to my ear, where he breathes filth softened by reverence.

“You’re doing so well for me, Bambi . Fuck. Take me so well.”

“Didn’t Luc say that this is new to you too?” I whimper, gripping his shoulders tighter. “How are you so good at this?”

He takes my hand and kisses the center of my palm. “Do you know what image training is?”

“Yeah.” I nod, breathless. “You imagine yourself in the situation as if it’s real. Like standing on top of the trail, but in your head, you’re riding it, going over every root and every corner.”

“Exactly. You do it again and again. Dozens of times. Hundreds .”

He thrusts again, harder this time, making me cry out. His mouth finds mine, swallowing the sound in another kiss, then he moves lower, licking down my neck as his fingers slide to my chest.

He starts flicking my nipple until I gasp, head falling back again as pleasure zips through me like fire .

“You’d be shocked … ” he murmurs, lips brushing the edge of my jaw, “ … at the kind of things I imagined, watching you every day.”

Fuck.

My whole body shivers beneath him.

His hips keep rolling into me, and when he tilts his chin toward me, I know what he’s asking. I lean up and kiss him, open-mouthed and messy, swallowing both our gasps as his cock drags deep inside me.

When his fingers tighten around my hips, anchoring me harder to him, I slow down and shift my knees wider, letting him slide even deeper. His head drops to my shoulder with a groan, and I swear I can feel his restraint in every inch of him.

Without a word, he flips us. He lays me back and sits up, his hands gripping my thighs and guiding me down onto him again, and I gasp, back arching as he fills me from below.

“Mason.”

His hands slide to my waist, guiding every movement. I ride him at his pace, my hands braced on his chest, feeling his heartbeat thundering beneath my palms. His eyes stay on mine the whole time, like he’s watching every flicker of pleasure that crosses my face, memorizing every sound I make.

But after just a few moments, my hip starts to stutter, muscles twitching from the effort and the position. My thighs tremble, my breath catches, and I feel my body starting to falter.

As if he knows, Mason rolls us again, reversing our positions in a fluid motion. One second I’m above him, and the next I’m on my back again, his body stretching over mine. He catches my moan in his mouth as he crashes into a kiss that steals every last thought from my head .

And then his hand slips between us, his fingers finding my clit and rubbing tight, perfect circles, the rhythm synced with every deep, slow thrust of his hips. The combination almost undoes me, and a sob breaks in my throat, unrecognizable even to me.

“Come for me again,” he growls against my mouth, his voice rough with want. “Let me feel you break on my cock.”

And I do.

I fucking shatter.

There’s no build-up, no warning, my entire body just locks up, spine arching, heels digging into the backs of his thighs as my orgasm slams through me. My hands claw at his back, my head pressed into his shoulder as the pleasure hits me like a fucking avalanche.

I clamp down around him, my body milking him with every wave that rolls through me, and Mason breaks right along with me.

“F-fuck, Al.” He chokes, his voice half-growl, half-plea, as his hips jerk one final time.

He buries himself deep with a curse, his body shaking above me as he comes, spilling inside me in hot pulses. With his face in my neck, his breath ragged and hot, he wraps one arm tightly around my waist and cradles my head with the other, squeezing me to him.

“You’re fucking everything,” he whispers against my sweat-damp skin.

I hum in response, too breathless to speak, chest rising and falling in uneven bursts, while my heart pounds like it’s trying to memorize the rhythm of his.

My fingers slowly trace the curve of his spine, like I can draw my love into him through touch, and if I’m gentle enough, he’ll understand all the things I’m not ready to say out loud.

He doesn’t move .

Doesn’t pull out.

Doesn’t let go.

He just holds me.

Like letting go was never even a fucking option.

He’s my nobody, and maybe that’s exactly why this feels like everything.