I bite him again for good measure.
I'm not sure if it's the right thing to do or the wrong thing to do, but I'm suddenly no longer against the wall. I'm in his arms, his mouth on mine, while he storms down the hall, grinding me against his cock with every step.
Within seconds, we're in a bedroom, and I'm on my back beneath him, sinking into the bed. His body is plastered to mine in one hard line, pinning me in place.
"Who are you obsessed with?" he breathes, his lips against the side of my throat.
"You," I moan. "I'm so damn obsessed with you."
He bites the edge of my jaw, dragging his beard across my skin in a way that makes my whole body turn to liquid.
"Jesus, Olive," he groans, rolling his hips so his cock rides right against my clit. "You know what you do to me?"
"Tell me," I beg, gripping his hair so tight I know it has to hurt.
He answers with his hands, not words. He yanks my shirt up, breaking the front clasp of my bra with a twist, baring me to his gaze. He doesn't waste time pretending he's gentle. He just palms them and bends to suck one nipple deep into his mouth.
The wet, greedy sounds he makes turn me inside out. I arch up, rubbing myself shamelessly against the bulge in his jeans.
He moves to the other breast, biting down just hard enough to make my hips buck, and then lets go with a pop.
"I want to wreck you," he rasps. "I want to make you forget anyone who ever taught you that you couldn't trust your own judgment. You want that, Rebel?"
"Yes," I gasp, my throat tight with need. "Please, Mason. Now."
He slides a hand between my legs without preamble, yanking my shorts and panties down.
I nearly come unglued when he presses two fingers against my clit, greedy and impatient. He works me slow at first, and then faster.
My head falls back, my eyes squeezed shut as pleasure rips through me.
"Look at me," he orders.
I force my eyes open, meeting his gaze. His eyes are wild and hungry, so blue they look lit from within.
"Don't look away," he says, his voice low and as deep as thunder. "I want you to see exactly what you do to me."
His thumb drags over my clit in slow, deliberate figure eights. I can't think, can't breathe. I can't do shit except writhe beneath him, clinging to his biceps for dear life.
He watches me, his gaze hooded and so intense it feels like a physical force. He's not even naked, and neither am I—my shorts are still trapped around my thighs—but I feel exposed in the best way. Owned.
"You look so fucking pretty when you want to come for me, Rebel."
He presses two fingers inside me, and I nearly scream. They're so goddamn thick, so perfect. He fucks me with them, his palm angled just right to grind into my clit with every thrust.
My body bows, chasing the friction, desperate, greedy. I can't keep my eyes open, but he doesn't allow me to look away.
His free hand comes up, clamping around my jaw, his fingers still wrecking me. "Watch me, baby," he growls. "You don't get to look away until you're coming apart for me."
I whimper his name, caught in his gaze and the way he makes me feel—in the way he looks at me like I'm the only thing that matters. It's too damn soon to feel this much for him. But I feel it anyway, beating in my chest like a second heartbeat, consuming me alive.
"Mason, I…I…"
He curls his fingers up, his thumb pressing against my clit at the same time.
I detonate with a sharp cry, convulsing beneath him. Waves wrack me, dragging me under again and then again. I can't move, can't breathe. All I can do is take it as he unravels my entire world and remakes it.
He doesn't let up until I'm trembling beneath him and chanting his name, so far gone I don't know which way is up anymore.