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He locks his hand around mine and presses it to his chest.
I can feel his heart beating against my hand. “Rebirth.”
Grief pangs through me. Why else would he need to have been reborn if not for me? “I’m sorry, Mason,” I whisper.
“Is it that bad of a tattoo?” he says with a teasing air.
“That’s not what I’m–”
“I know, joking. I’m joking. Bad joke.” His hand caresses mine, ginger and tender. “Don’t be sorry. I’m happy with who I am. Who I’ve grown into.”
I swallow, wishing I had been around to witness that growth. To be a part of it. “That’s good, Mase.”
He massages my thigh, then lifts my hand to his mouth, kissing each knuckle. Then, he pulls me into his chest, tucking his mouth against my ear. “I’m happy that who I’ve grown to be has brought me to this moment with you, Lane.”
I sigh, high-pitched and tremulous.
I remember his thickness, pressed against me, and I salivate at the thought.
Taking Mason’s hands in mine, I slide his arms up by his ears, then lower my lips to the hummingbird at his chest where I begin a path of kisses lower and lower until I graze the vee of his hips leading into his sweatpants.
Mason cups the back of my head, though there is no force in his grip. It is delicate, gentle.
And I remember.
Remember how safe I felt with him. How I always rushed back to his embrace.
How I loved him.
I never forgot that. Never gave it up.
But I’m falling in love with Nate too.
What am I supposed to do?
“You’re killing me, Lane…” Mason moans, pushing his hips up in eagerness.
I grin up at him. “Still impatient, huh?”
Mason laughs, raw in his throat. “I’ve waited years for this.”
“Then you can wait longer,” I say in a sing-song voice.
“Laney Kathleen Briggs–”
“Don’t you dare use my middle name!”
Mason gets up on his elbows, looks me in the eye. “I’m begging you, Laney–”
“Oh, well, if you’re begging…” I drag his sweatpants down his hips, revealing his cock.
Not as long as Nate’s, but thicker. I’m already thinking about the way he’ll stretch me, but first and foremost, I want to build the anticipation.
I wrap my mouth around the head, reveling in Mason’s immediate, long moan.
My lips and tongue remember his shape, the thick vein that runs down the underside of him, head curving into the edge of a heart shape.
I bob up and down on his cock, swallowing more and more of him until each stroke comes with me nearly gagging. It’s worth it to hear the way he’s at my mercy under him.
