Boarlander Beast Boar(23)

He was afraid he wouldn’t be able to make her happy because he felt broken. But he didn’t see it. She was broken, too, shattered into the perfect shape to match his tattered edges. He could keep his claiming mark and take it slow if that’s what he needed. She understood now, and she would wait for him. She would find her patience if it meant she could live more moments like this when a big, dominant, scarred-up beast of a man held her heart so gently in his hand and promised wordlessly to protect it for always.

She loved him. Loved him. Just being capable of this intense emotion after Robbie had stripped her soul bare was a testament to how inherently good Mason was. She wouldn’t have given herself to anyone less. Not after all she’d been through.

So she would wait. And she would love him. And she wouldn’t guilt him for being careful because he’d nurtured deep love once, and even if he didn’t realize it yet, Mason knew how to build it again. With her.

He was worth waiting for. Worth the effort. Worthy of her “all in.”

With a content sigh, she slipped out of his kiss with a soft smack and rolled over, gave him her back. Her revved-up instincts told her Mason really was a beast boar. Robbie used to take her from behind and hurt her, and she’d sworn never to let a man do that to her again. But then Mason had come along, and he wasn’t just some human male trying to dominate her. Trying to stifle her shifter by putting her beneath him. Sex with Mason was different. It was more animalistic, and this was the test. If he didn’t trigger her to panic, then she really was getting better.

Mason’s reaction was instant. His arms slid around her, pulled her back tight against his raging hard erection. He rolled his hips gracefully with her seductive movement. And when she reached behind her and gripped the back of his neck, she could feel his teeth on her shoulder, as if he couldn’t help but tempt himself to bite.

She thought he would take her hard and fast since that’s what rutting men did, but instead, Mason slid his hand down her quivering belly and cupped her sex. And when he brushed his finger down her wet folds, she gasped and spread her knees wider for him. For a while, he toyed gently with her clit, bringing her closer to climax with every touch, and when she was bowing against him, pleading, he finally slipped his finger inside of her.

Against her back, Mason rolled his long, thick erection. She wanted that. Wanted him in her, wanted them connected, because when they were in each other’s arms, the rest of the world slipped away. Beck reached between her legs and drew his dick between her thighs, against his hand as he fingered her.

Mason grunted and pushed a second finger inside of her, and she was gone. Her orgasm pulsed through her, and he worked each aftershock out of her until she was sensitive and twitching under his touch. And then he kissed her neck as she recovered. Sensual, commanding lips, a hint of tongue, and nipping teeth had her begging silently again. She arched back, tempting him as his dick slid through her wet heat.

“Are you sure,” he whispered against her neck.

Oh, he’d listened when she’d told him Robbie used to take her from behind just so he didn’t have to look at her face, but this was different. Mason was different. Sex like this with her mate was exciting and erotic. She loved that he made her come before he took pleasure for himself. Good man. Good boar. Good mate.

“With you, I’m sure.”

Mason rolled her up on her hands and knees and threw the covers off them. “On your elbows,” he said in a gravelly voice. “Arch that back for me so I don’t hurt you.”

A delicious shiver trembled up her spine and landed in her shoulders at the commanding confidence in his voice. She bowed like a stretching feline and spread her knees farther apart on the soft mattress. “Like this?” she teased, tossing him a look over her shoulder.

Mason’s eyes sparked like blue fire, his gaze locked between her legs.

He ran his big, calloused hands down the sensitive skin of her outer thighs, lifted up on his knees, and pressed his taut stomach against her back, like he was testing how much weight she could bear. Rocking them forward gently, he brushed her sex with the head of his cock, and now he was the one teasing.

“Touch yourself,” he whispered, hand over hers, guiding it between her legs.

Touch herself? Eeek! She hadn’t ever done that in front of anyone before, and now—oooooh. Mason pressed her hand over her clit, and she could feel his shaft as he dipped into her by inches. He eased back and then pushed into her deeper, filling her with delicious pressure, stretching her with his girth.

His arm was locked on the bed beside her cheek, and she turned and bit his bicep as he rubbed her hand between her legs again. A low rumble rattled his chest, vibrating against her back.

“Deeper,” she pleaded.

Mason pushed into her until his hips met her ass. Rolling her eyes closed, Beck sighed out a helpless sound as she moved with him. His abs flexed against her as he pulled out and pushed in, and when she pressed his hand against her sex to feel where he was entering her, to feel how wet he’d made her, Mason jerked his hips, bucking into her faster.

She was already toeing the edge, about to fall over the side when Mason slammed into her with one more deep thrust, and… “I’m coming,” she gasped out. “Mason, I’m coming.”

Mason bucked into her again and froze, gritting out a feral sound as his dick pulsed heat inside of her. Over and over he throbbed, matching her release, until warmth trickled down her thighs. God, she loved this. Loved him wild. Loved how he made her feel like the sexiest woman on the planet. Her sexy beast boar, filling her with his seed until she couldn’t hold anymore.

Minutes stretched on as they slowed their pace and savored every aftershock, and at last, with a slick sound, Mason pulled out of her.

He ran kisses down her back, right along her spine, coveting her, showing her sex wasn’t his end game. Showing her it was just the beginning of his affection. “Yes,” he whispered against her fevered skin.

“Yes, what?” she asked in the dark.

“Yes, I would love to Change with you.”

The grin that stretched her face felt so good. Wordlessly, Mason stood beside the bed and held out his hand, palm up.

“I should clean up,” she murmured, slipping her hand into his.

Mason lifted his chin proudly, his blue eyes glowing from the inside out. “No. My animal likes you smelling like me.”

With a steadying breath, she padded out of the bedroom, through the living room, and into the night, holding the hand of the man she loved. Mason didn’t mind touching her anymore. He didn’t balk or panic. In fact, the sound rattling his chest, just above her senses, sounded content, and his skin heated where it touched hers. She couldn’t even bring herself to be embarrassed by the warm wetness that trickled down the insides of her thighs to her knees. If this was the only mark Mason would allow himself on her, then she was fine with smelling like him.

“You first,” he said low. “I like to watch you take off.”

Beck’s heart fluttered like wings in her chest. Whether that was from the giddy feeling he gave her or from her owl proudly testing her wings inside, she didn’t know. Lifting up on the balls of her bare feet, she kissed him, brushed her tongue against his once, then stood back, proud of her animal for the first time in her life. Why? Because Mason loved her, not despite her animal, but partly because of her animal. There was beauty in that—in being accepted completely, owl and all.

With a quick breath to brace for the instant pain that always came with her Change, Beck hunched inward and let her animal explode from her skin. She could see everything in this form. Every facet of Mason’s beautiful, awed face. Every rippling muscle on his body as he strode forward on his powerful legs and lifted his face to watch her circle above him. The trailer park below her was silent in the hours before dawn, but his slow smile was like music. It filled her head with joy. Filled her with the idea that despite the scar he withheld, she was really his. The proud look on his face said as much.

She let off a long screech, inviting his boar to come out and play. She’d never shifted with anyone, and how fitting that Mason was her first. The white of Mason’s breathtaking smile flashed in the instant before his beastly boar ripped from his skin. His coarse, black hair spiked up in a line down his back, and his tusks shone white against the dark. His eyes were the blue inhuman color she’d come to adore instead of fear. She waited to feel afraid as flight shifters often did around shifters higher on the food chain, but all she felt was an overwhelming elation that he was hers. Her safety, her mate, her love. Whooo whooo was the lucky owl? Beck was.

She circled around as Mason trotted for the tree line on those sure, glossy black hooves of his. Dive-bombing closer, she cried out a happy noise as Mason lifted his head, cutting proudly through the air with his razor sharp tusks. Nothing could hurt her with a mate like him. Big barrel chest, powerful front legs, head high, ears erect, tusks ready for ripping, muscles moving easily with every galloping step. Mason was grace and power. He was perfection. Mine, her possessive owl declared.

Together they wound through the Boarlander woods, faster and faster, ducking and dodging the ancient pines of the forest. Mason wove through trails just below her, while she zigzagged gracefully around the trunks, her eyes ever dancing back to him. With a grunt, Mason looked up at her, then pushed his legs faster. Damn, he was quick, and she heaved breath as she rushed to keep up with him. God, she loved this—the wind brushing through her flight feathers, the night sounds quieting as they passed, the noise of Mason’s breath below her. Steam puffed in front of his face in the cool night air as he ran faster. She’d never felt joy like this. She’d never felt complete freedom. Changes near her hometown had to be done carefully so that no one saw a snowy owl where one didn’t belong. Here, in Damon’s mountains, she was safe to be herself. Safe to fly fast and far, and her mate was below, pushing her to test her wings.