Last Wolf Standing (26 page)

“Torrance.”

She heard him gasp her name as she tilted her head back, allowing the vivid sensations to spread through her, hyperaware of every inch that penetrated her, hard and hot and thick. He felt amazing. Huge, yes…but wonderful. And it felt so impossibly right, having him become a part of her, as if she really had been made for him—but as incredible as it felt, Torrance could see how hard he was trying to stay in control as she watched him through her lashes. Could see the rigid tension in his face, his shoulders and all those hard, bulging muscles as he strained to hold himself in check, because he was afraid of hurting her.

He was being so careful with her, but that wasn’t what she wanted.

With a tremulous curve of her mouth, Torrance smiled, deliciously aware that she was stepping out to the edge of a cliff, something new and wondrous waiting for her on the other side. “Mason,” she gasped. “Stop it.”

He groaned, holding himself completely still. “What, am I hurting you?” he asked tightly, his arms rigid as he held himself over her. His broad, bronzed shoulders gleamed with a fine sheen of sweat, dark hair damp at his temples, expression grim with restraint.

“No,” she said with a watery laugh. “I just want you stop holding back. Just let go. I promise you that I’m not made of glass.”

He stared down at her, the rugged planes and angles of his face slowly shifting into an arrested look of raw, savage hunger, making her tremble. “You want more?” he demanded in a low rasp, his hands suddenly fisting into the bedding so viciously, she heard the sharp, sibilant sound of ripping fabric. His hips pulsed, and he thrust into her a little deeper. “Say it, Torrance. Tell me.”

“Yeah,” she whispered shakily, smiling up at him as something warm and golden and bright seemed to burst into awareness beneath her skin, filling her up, spreading through her body in a molten rush of breathtaking emotion. “I want more. I want you, Mason. All of you.”

His body jerked as he held himself above her. “Hell,” he said huskily, his voice ragged. “This is so dangerous.”

“But…” she panted, the anticipation nearly killing her, “it’s gonna feel really, really good.”

“Damn right it is,” he grunted, his dark hair falling over his brow as his mouth curled into one of those impossibly wicked, slightly crooked grins of his—and he pressed deeper, keeping his eyes on her face, watching every flicker of emotion as he worked more of himself inside of her, stretching her, filling her to the point that the warm glow of pleasure spilled into something darker, deeper. “I knew it was going to be different with you,” he groaned, gifting her with a gorgeous, bone-melting smile. He lowered his head and stamped the impression of his mouth against her own, branding her with the force of his hunger. It vibrated through those long, powerful limbs. Tremored through the rigid strength and ropey sinew of his muscles.

She made a low, humming noise of appreciation, running her palms over the hot skin of his shoulders, lifting her hands to run her fingers through the damp strands of his hair, brushing the warm mass back from his brow.

“I’m never letting you go, Tor. Never,” he vowed harshly, watching her, his stare so hot she could feel its searing heat spread across her skin. His hands took her own, pulled them up high over her head, holding them there, stretching her out beneath him. His thumbs swept over the leaping, erratic pulse in her wrists…and he held her wide-eyed gaze, his jaw grinding as he finally began testing the give of her body, thrusting his hips. She was tight, but so wet that she gave way around him, and he began working her hard…harder, until she’d taken every inch and he’d completely buried himself inside of her.

His head fell forward, arms shaking as he pressed deep, just holding himself there, shoved up into her like a thick, heated pipe, solid and hard but throbbing with life. Then he pulled back, and lunged forward in another brutal, grinding motion that buried every inch of his cock inside of her all over again, slamming against her limit, and she screamed, the pleasure exploding instantaneously, as if he’d hit a switch. His eyes went wide, his expression stunned at the first clenching pull of her climax, and then he growled a feral, rumbling noise in the back of his throat and erupted into action, driving the pleasure into her until she didn’t know how to hold it inside.

He kept pushing her, making her come over and over, like a hedonistic gear being revved higher and higher, until the intense, breathtaking spasms bled into one another, forming one huge, explosive swell of sharp, mind-shattering sensation. The relentless, provocative push of his body into hers made her crazed with it, her skin damp and flushed with violent color. Writhing atop the wrecked bedding, Torrance spread her legs wider, wavering between begging for everything he could give her and pleading for him to let her rest, the hard, relentless burn of ecstasy almost too sharp to bear.

“Not yet,” he grated, his dark eyes golden, deliciously wild. “Just one more time, Tor. Let me feel it again, just once more.”

“I can’t,” she sobbed, gasping, her back arched while her head tossed restlessly on the pillow, their bodies covered in a glistening sheen of sweat, sex-damp and burning. “I can’t…”

“Yes, you can.” His lips pulled back over his teeth, breath ragged and fast, while his eyes burned down at her with a primitive, savage intensity.

“Mason,” she breathed, his name a plea, though Torrance was no longer even sure what she was begging for. She clutched at the powerful muscles in his back, feeling them shift and flex as he powered his rigid body into hers. The low glow of the muted bathroom light burned behind him, setting the bronzed skin of his wide shoulders to a warm gold, like a god come down to pleasure her, while the sensual curve of his wide mouth was pure, unadulterated devil. “Mason…”

“I know,” he growled. “Don’t fight it and just let me give it to you.” The pleasure; the dark, almost frightening intensity; his swollen shaft—it didn’t matter what he meant, she wanted them all. Her breath caught as he shifted position, slipping his hands behind her knees. He pushed them higher, nearly flattening them against her breasts, the tilted angle of her pelvis allowing him free access to that drenched, pulsing part of her that throbbed like a heartbeat, her sensitive skin stretched wide as he worked more and more of himself inside of her. She had no shelter, nowhere to hide.

Emotions surged, sensation building upon sensation…swelling…deepening layer by layer, like pigment building upon a canvas, creating something brilliant and stunning and new.

Something that was all hers.

Something she was dangerously afraid that she already loved.

“Torrance!” Mason shouted, the word guttural and raw as his own release roared through him, powering through his body in a thundering wave. It surged up from the very depths of his soul, destroying him at the same time all the scattered pieces of his existence seemed to finally snap into place. And when she followed him over, spasming around him in another sweet, crushing release, Mason thought the top of his head would come off. “Damn, that nearly killed me.”

She laughed a soft, happy sound, her face and chest flushed a beautiful blushing pink that made him want to howl. “You’re incredible,” he rasped, thrusting gently into her as the last waves of the most powerful orgasm he’d ever experienced pulsed through him. “God, I think I’m destroyed, but I want it again, Tor.”

I want it forever.

He released his hold on her legs and collapsed over her, a hard, exhausted grin lifting his lips as she wrapped her arms around him, holding tight, her face pressed into the hollow of his shoulder. “Just give me a second to catch my breath,” he whispered.

A rough, trembling giggle shook her body beneath him, and the grin playing at his mouth melted into a smile that seemed to bloom from somewhere deep inside of him. The sex had been so insanely good it blew his mind, but it was what happened afterward that broke him down. That destroyed him. He rested his face against her belly, his body wrapped in bliss as she stroked her fingers through the damp tangles of his hair, petting him like an animal, and he loved it. Loved breathing in the sweet, feminine scent of her passion. Loved her hands on him. Loved the sheer beauty of everything that she was, both inside and out.

“What now?” she asked softly, when their breath had returned to normal.

“I need…I need for you to trust me, Tor.” He regarded her almost solemnly, lifting his head to stare up at her over the pale line of her body, her skin glowing like a pearl. “You can, you know. You’re my mate.”

She let her head press back into the downy pillow. “And that means that I should trust you, Mason?”

“I would never betray you,” he said gruffly. “Not for anything. Not with anyone.”

A small crease formed between her brows. “You mean you’d never hurt me?”

“That’s exactly what I mean,” he rasped, wishing she could just see inside of him. What she wanted was there—he just couldn’t risk letting it out. Hell, he didn’t even know how to let it out.

But he could show her. And in those dark, provocative hours, he argued his case with the touch of his skin against hers, the press of his body, the ravenous hunger of his kiss—

Again…and again…and again.

Chapter 11

M ason stood at the bay window in the kitchen, staring out at the pale stream of light struggling to fight its way into the dawn sky. The shadows of night still hung heavily over the forest, nature quiet and still beyond the window in a perfect, suspended state of grace, while chaos reigned within him.

Though Torrance had slept peacefully in his arms, Mason had been the one who’d dreamed.

He couldn’t recall exactly how it began. One moment, there’d been nothing but the gently soothing darkness of sleep…and in the next, he’d found himself running through the forest, the ground damp beneath his feet, the air heavy and humid, thick enough to feel against his skin, just the way it is before a violent storm. He was tired, his body battered and bruised…aching as his muscles burned, but he couldn’t stop. He had to get there; only he didn’t know where he was running to. He just kept moving, his feet pounding at the underbrush, rocks and stones and broken twigs slicing at his soles, his body naked but for the jeans riding low on his hips.

It was night, the forest thick with shadows, his vision glowing as he used his wolf’s eyes to find his way in the dark. He ran harder, faster, driven by an insane sense of urgency, until the blinding moment when a hand grasped his shoulder from behind, jerking him to a stunning, stumbling halt.

Whipping around to confront his attacker, he’d come face-to-face with his brother. Dean stood as tall and proud as Mason remembered him, his thick hair brushing his shoulders, a small scar at the corner of his mouth, a souvenir he’d carried since their roughhousing days as kids. He held a small woman in his arms, her face pressed to his chest, ebony hair streaming over his brawny arms. Her feet, so narrow and pale, looked infinitely fragile beneath the hem of her eyelet gown, the white cloth charred in places, stained with streaks of dirt and blood in others. Christ, he thought. It was Lori. She’d been found wearing that same gown the night the fire had taken her life.

His brother was holding his dead wife in his arms.

Mason squeezed his eyes shut, while anguish burned a raw wound in his chest, his body rigid with pain and fury for the horrors of the past.

“You’re losing her, brother,” Dean called to him, and though he stood only a few feet away, his voice reached out to Mason like a thin, metallic stream of sound traveling over a great distance.

“What?” he croaked, the word no more than a hoarse whisper, emotion choking his ability to speak as he opened his eyes.

“Mason, listen to me,” Dean shouted, his features twisted with concern. “You’re losing her!”

“Losing Torrance?” he rasped, shaking his head in confusion, trying to make sense of Dean’s words as the forest around them began to spin. At first, it moved in a slow, revolving shuffle, gaining speed second by second, the leaves and limbs and sturdy trunks becoming a blur while Mason stood trapped in its center, as if caught in the eye of a hurricane.

“Don’t feel sorry for me,” Dean called out to him, the edges of his body blurred, fading into the surrounding, spinning forest. “I have Lori waiting at home, waiting for me. We’re together…always. Love doesn’t make you weak, Mason. Love makes you strong, and I wouldn’t have had it any other way.”

“Dean,” he groaned, wondering how to tell him that his wife was dead in his arms. “Dean,” he choked out, his throat trembling.

“Open your eyes before it’s too late, Mason,” he told him, walking forward. He held the woman in his arms out, offering her to him, and Mason stumbled back, his body quaking. “Open your eyes,” Dean growled. “I don’t want you to be alone.”

Before he could react, the icy weight of the woman’s body was thrust into his arms, against his chest, and Mason looked down in horror…only to see a fiery mane of red flowing over his arms, covering her face. His muscles shook as the truth crashed over him, through him, taking him to his knees, the damp earth of the forest soaking into his jeans. His breath caught as she stirred, her face tilting, a breathtaking smile of pure joy curling across the beauty of her mouth.

“I love you, Mason.”

No sooner had the stunning words left her lips, than the force of the spinning forest caught hold of her body, wrenching her out of his hold. In a state of horror, Mason watched the ravaging cyclone of wind and trees carrying her away, her arms outstretched, reaching for him, but no matter how violently he struggled, his feet were rooted in place, sinking into the ground beneath him as it gave way like quicksand.