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I trusted him with my life.
I trusted him with my body.
I trusted him with my virginity.
I tried to steady my breath as I wondered if I should somehow whisper it to him, my secret. To warn him. I didn’t know if he needed warning.
I wondered if I’d be able to push through the pain of my first time, wondered if I didn’t tell him, if he’d be able to tell anyway. Wondered if I dared whisper it to him, if the others would hear, if they’d snarl and chuckle and if it would fuel their sick desires.
Mason lowered himself over me, angling his body to block as much of me from viewing eyes as he was physically capable of. And it wasn’t hard, as I looked at his broad chest spread out in front of me. Seeing him on top of me like this, I realized just how big Mason really was. As I felt the weight of him sinking onto me, I realized just how dense and thick those muscles really were. He lifted a hand up to stroke my cheek with his thumb, and that’s when my eyes darted down and through a sliver of visibility.
I gasped at what I saw.
Mason didn’t look. He kept his eyes on mine, as I kept my eyes on what I saw.
He took my chin in his hand softly, and he whispered just as softly. “Don’t look at them, look at me.”
I finally flicked my eyes back to his. Those brown eyes were warm and sorrowful, regretful. “They’re recording us, Mason.” I breathed. As if being watched wasn’t bad enough, as if giving my virginity to Mason, like this, in front of these men wasn’t bad enough. They were recording it.
My mind raced a million miles a minute, trying to figure out, if I ever got out of this, how I’d track all these men and their phones, recording me, and wipe any record of this moment into oblivion.
“Focus on me.” Mason said even more softly, and I had to stifle a soft gasp that threatened to escape when his thumb made contact with my hip bone, bare and exposed now that my shirt was ripped open. My eyes flicked to him. “That’s it. Focus on me, focus on how this feels.” He rumbled down into my ear and the heat of his breath swept me into all that was Mason.
As his hands worked over my stomach, up the side of my leg, I could tell Mason was going to do his best to prime me up before he buried himself in me. His mouth met mine, softly. So, so softly. He gently swept his tongue over my lips before he worked over my jaw, and then the delicious soft place between my collarbone and my neck. It was a chaste kiss compared to how he’d kissed me last night. An apology, of sorts. I shuddered as the warmth of his touch caused a slick pool to form between my legs; a dull aching, a hungry pulsing. I shuddered at the thought of what it would be like to take him. To take a man for the first time. To take a man as these armed soldiers watched us, recorded us.
“Lose the clothes.” Someone grunted, and the others agreed.
Mason ignored them until I felt cool metal meet my cheek.
“Lose the clothes.” The soldier with the gun snarled.
As Mason pulled back, he gave the soldier a look so dark that it should have leveled him to the ground, and the soldier stood back.
In one swift movement, Mason pulled his blood splattered T-shirt up over his head, and in a second swift movement, he stepped out of his pants. My heart pounded as I took in his chiseled chest, and then my eyes wandered south. I swallowed hard at the angry erect member that loomed before me. Mason stood fearless, naked, defiant.
As I laid there, I reached down and unbuttoned my own pants, and willed myself to just look at Mason, to not flick my eyes to the wall and watch the men’s eyes as I undressed.
With one knee resting on the cot and one hand reaching for my waistband, Mason instructed me to lift my hips. In another swift movement, my pants were gone, and in the next Mason’s body was looming over me, once again shielding me from the prying eyes mere feet away. Merely a second of exposed skin, and now I was safely cocooned underneath him again.
I became suddenly aware of his hard length pressing against me through my underwear, and I let my hands roam over his chest as I softly bucked my hips up to meet his friction. An invitation, permission, longing, forgiveness all wrapped in one discrete movement. I saw in Mason’s eyes he understood.
“I don’t have all day. Get on with it, or my original threat stands.” The man in charge sighed like he was already bored with us.
Mason’s hands lingered at the waistband of my underwear, his eyes asking, questioning. I nodded in response.
His thumb slipped under the fabric and I couldn’t catch the whimper that slipped out of me when it connected with my throbbing center. I heard the men in the room shift and chuckle at the sound. I felt heat bloom in my cheeks.
Mason grumbled at their response, but I could tell there was a fleck of relief that I wasn’t repulsed by his touch. He lowered his torso closer to me as he slid my underwear down around my knees. “Bite my shoulder if you have to. Don’t let them win.” He gazed at me a moment longer. “Ready?”
“Yes.” I barely whispered as my back arched and his thumb circled my most sensitive spot so briefly.
One of his knees slid between my legs and nudged them just far enough apart to lower himself between them. I felt his head thick at my entrance, and I bit my lip as he so,sogently began to ease in.
I’d imagined this moment with Mason more times than I cared to admit, and now, as it was happening, I didn’t know what I wanted. I was conflicted at my true desire for Mason, and at the horrific situation that my dream was unfolding in.
Mason kept his eyes on me, watching, monitoring, alert, as his hands roamed and continued kneading over me. My breasts pebbled at every stroke and every sensation. I struggled not to writhe under him at both the pleasure, and now also the burning stretching. I squeezed my eyes shut, and rasped in unsteady breaths as he sank lower and lower, the stretching, the burning consuming me. Here it was. I had wondered what it would feel like, and I started to sweat as I focused on my breathing to push through the pain.
Suddenly, Mason froze as if he could read my mind, and when I opened my eyes, I realized I’d broken the skin on his biceps, digging my nails into him.
