Mason (Iron Reapers MC #1)

Chapter 7

SEVEN

CARLIE

"Never thought I'd see someone like you at one of these things," Dagger's gravelly voice cuts through the noise.

"Me neither," I admit, a half-smile tugging at my lips. I stand beside him, watching his tattooed hands expertly flip a sizzling burger. "But here I am."

"Here you are," he echoes, flipping the patty onto a bun with a practiced flick of his wrist. He leans back against the picnic table, one corner of his mouth pulling up. "Mason's got a knack for bringing in the unexpected."

"Is that what I am?" I ask. "Unexpected?"

"Damn straight." The edges of his eyes crinkle. "Most don't waltz into our world without fear. You got guts, Darlin'."

Embarrassed, I grab a beer from the cooler and pop the cap. "So, tell me about this world. What's it really like, being an Iron Reapers member?"

"It's more than just riding, it's living by your own rules. But it's also about the guy next to you, the bond." he starts, gaze drifting to a point beyond the fire. "Like Mason, he's more than our Pres. He's the glue that keeps this brotherhood from unraveling."

I sip my beer, absorbing his words. "He talks about loyalty a lot, but it's more than just a word to you all, isn't it?"

"Damn right," Dagger confirms, his nod solemn. "It's the code we live by. Loyalty is what gets us through the shitstorms. Betray that, you betray everything we stand for."

"Has anyone ever—" I pause, wondering if I should ask, if I have the right to know something that seems so personal.

"Betrayed us?" The hardness in his eyes is unnerving. "Yeah. And they paid the price. We protect our own, and God help anyone who crosses that line."

"Sounds intense," I murmur.

"Intense, yeah." Dagger softens slightly, catching my gaze. "But there's freedom in it too. Out on the road, wind in your face, brothers at your back—there's nothing like it."

"Must be nice," I say, more to myself than to him, the idea of such unbridled freedom sparks something deep within. I’ve always been the good girl, doing what I’m told and following a narrow path. Coloring outside the lines is wrong and being wild has always been a sin.

"Nice isn't the half of it." Dagger says, offering me a genuine smile. "Stick around, Carlie. You might just get a taste of it yourself."

"Maybe I will," I reply, my heart thrumming with the possibility as I look at the flickering flames, the smoke carrying away whispers of a life I’m only beginning to understand.

The laughter and chatter of the Iron Reapers grow as the night goes on. I stand at the edge of it all, the warmth from the bonfire brushing against my skin, casting golden light on the faces around me. They're not just a club, they're a family, forged in the fires of loyalty and rebellion.

"Never seen anything like it," I murmur to myself, watching as one of the bikers slaps another's back, roaring with laughter over a shared joke.

"Feels good, doesn't it?" Mason says in a low rumble behind me, his breath a hot whisper. Before I can turn, his strong arm bands around my waist, and I'm pulled backward into the solid wall of his chest. His lap cradles me like I belong there, and maybe I do.

"Mason—" My protest dies on my lips as his mouth finds the tender skin of my neck, dropping kisses that sear straight through to my core. My pulse races, betraying my craving for more of his touch, more of him. Beneath me, I feel him harden, a silent promise of what's to come.

"I want to show you something," he murmurs, his words laced with an edge of desire that matches my own.

"Where?" My voice is barely above a whisper.

"Somewhere private." He stands, lifting me effortlessly with him, and strides toward his bike, that aura of danger and charisma never faltering, even in the simplest actions.

A few minutes later we are out of the compound and on the open road. The ride is a blur, the roar of the engine melding with the pounding of my heart. We climb higher, away from the lights of the clubhouse until we eventually reach a lookout that reveals the world stretched out below us.

Mason helps me off the back of his bike, my legs shaking as I follow him to the look out. We lean our arms on the bars, holding us back from falling below.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Mason's voice cuts through the silence, but his eyes are on me, not the impeccable view.

"Stunning," I reply, though I'm not looking at the horizon either. His gaze is intense, a stormy sea that threatens to pull me under, and I'm ready to drown.

"Never been one for small talk, Carlie," he says. "So I'll just say it—You’re not like the other women I’m used to. You stand out among them all like a siren calling me. I want you Carlie– I want to touch you, taste you, own you. But I’ll warn you now, once won’t be enough. I don’t know if I’ll ever get enough of you."

His honesty sends a thrill through me. "Then take me, Mason. I want you too. I want this." My admission hangs between us, heavy with longing and the weight of a decision that feels both reckless and inevitable.

"Fuck, Carlie." He runs his hands over my curves, stoking the fire that rages inside me. "You have no idea how happy I am to hear you say that."

We don't speak again as he guides me back to the bike. The ride back is charged with unsaid promises and yearning, every turn bringing us closer to what we both crave.

The rumble of Mason's bike fades into silence as we pull up to his house on the compound. I can hardly breathe, anticipation like a live wire under my skin. His hand finds mine, rough and sure, as he leads me inside.

"Never done anything like this before," I admit, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Me neither," Mason says gruffly, turning to face me in the dim light of his living room. "Wanting more than just a quick fuck from someone... it's new."

I search his dark eyes, finding an ocean of unspoken promises. Then, his lips are on mine, urgent and claiming, as though he's trying to speak through the kiss. Every touch is a word, every caress a sentence in a language we're writing together.

"I need you," he rasps against my mouth. “Fuck, I’ve never needed someone so badly, baby.”

"Then have me," I breathe back with a boldness I’ve never felt before.

We stumble down the hall and into his bedroom, his mouth as insistent as his hands. He pulls my shirt over my head, before slamming me against the wall to continue his ravenous exploration.

Reaching behind me, he pinches my bra together releasing the clasps. It falls down my arms and he gets a look at my large breasts I’ve been ashamed of for years. They aren’t perky and perfect like most women you see.

His eyes widen and his tongue darts out licking his lips. “Jesus Christ, you’re beautiful,” He murmurs, running his knuckles lightly over one of my breasts. That simple touch has me gasping his name. His eyes flick to mine and he smirks. Cupping both of my breasts in his strong, capable hands, he kisses me deeply and continues to massage my breasts. His rapture is intoxicating. He kisses down my neck as one of his hand moves from my breast down my stomach until his fingers dance over my pussy, lightly rubbing me over my jeans.

“Mason,” I moan. “I need more.”

Getting on his knees in front of me, he looks up at me as he undoes my button and pulls my jeans down my ass. Carefully, he pulls the jeans over my feet, until I’m free and all I have on is a black cotton thong.

He runs his hands up my thighs until he’s gripping my hips. He leans in, his nose traveling between the crevice of my pussy lips and he inhales my scent. “Carlie, fuck woman. It should be illegal to smell this fucking good.”

Embarrassed, I try and shift away but he holds me in place with one hand as he rips my panties away with the other. The slight sting fades fast as his tongue licks between my lips to circle my clit making me moan loudly.

“Are you going to be a good girl and stay put?” He growls, his hooded eyes looking up at me.

Biting my bottom lip I nod. I couldn’t move if my life depended on it. The man has me frozen to this wall as I watch what he does to me.

His cocky grin is back, bigger than before. “That’s my girl.” Using his thumbs he spreads my lips apart and places a kiss against my center. He runs his tongue up and down my slit. I throb painfully from the pleasure. I need so much more than just his tongue, yet I’m not willing to push him away. When he pushes a finger into me and I gasp, “More.”

“Such a needy pussy,” he growls, before pushing two fingers in and out of my center as he licks and sucks at my clit. I’m a live wire stretched tight ready to snap at any moment. He’s pushing me further than I’ve ever been and his assault only gets more aggressive the more I squirm. The moment his teeth graze my bundle of nerves, I crash, crying out his name.

His eyes find mine and he’s up in an instant, kissing me deeply until I’m no longer losing my mind. He picks me up, one hand behind my back and the other under my knees, and carries me to his bed. “You’re beautiful when you come.”

“Th–thank you?” I mumble.

I watch as he rolls on the condom, his jaw is set in a hard line. He looks at me with something fierce in his gaze. "Next time, I want nothing between us." It's both a vow and a plea.

Next time? I don’t know if I’ll survive one night with him, let alone a next time.

Kneeling between my spread thighs, he presses his cock to my pussy and looks up. He looks unhinged, like he’s about to fall right of the crazy train with me. “Tell me you want this, Carlie.”

“Yes,” I moan and he pushes into me, slowly. Agonizingly slow.

“Mason, don’t make me beg,” I growl.

“Fuck baby, but you do it so prettily,” He groans, pulling out and then thrusting back in quickly.

“Oh,” I sigh.

With his hand a pillar above my shoulder, he leans down and kisses me. He thrusts in and out of me. I’ve never felt anything like this in my life. The way his dick completes me, touching every nerve.

Moments bleed into each other, a blur of passion and whispered confessions. Mason worships my body with a hunger that leaves us both breathless, our connection deepening with every thrust, every moan, every look.

“God damn, baby. Never been like this before,” He moans sexily, before biting my shoulder lightly. He tangles his fingers with mine, pulling them over my head. He kisses me as he squeezes my hands, thrusting into my harder and deeper than before.

“Don’t stop, please don’t stop,” I mewl, on the precipice of falling over the cliff.

He thrusts in one last time before we both shatter together.

We’re lying together, wrapped in each other’s arms when his phone shatters the silence, its shrill ringtone slicing through the afterglow. He curses under his breath, reaching for it. The moment he answers, I know there’s trouble.

"Fuck," he growls, snapping the phone shut. "Walker's making moves on one of our businesses. We gotta get back to the clubhouse." Adrenaline replacing desire. We dress quickly, urgency propelling us forward.

Back at the clubhouse, the air is thick with tension, a tangible force that wraps around us. The members gather, faces grim, hands ready for war.

"Listen up," Mason commands, his voice full of authority. "We move fast, hit 'em where it hurts. Protect the club, protect what's ours."

They nod, a silent pact formed in the depths of their brotherhood. I stand by Mason, my heart hammering in my chest. This is the life—a life of loyalty, love, and sometimes, battle lines drawn in the sand.

"Stay close," Mason murmurs to me, his hand squeezing mine. "It's gonna get rough."

I nod, determined to stand strong beside him.

Mason's fingers dance over a map spread across the table, his eyes scanning every inch. "We gotta lock this shit down. Walker's made it personal, and that means no one's off-limits."

Dagger leans in, arms folded like steel cables over his broad chest. "Give me a crew. We'll secure the perimeter, make sure our turf's tight."

"Good," Mason nods, his jaw set like concrete. "Take Bull and Ghost. Set up patrols, keep your eyes peeled for anything that smells like trouble."

I hover at the edge of the room, watching them, feeling the weight of the moment settle on my shoulders. This isn't just biker bravado, it's a promise to defend their own at all costs. A world away from lesson plans and gentle reassurances I'm used to giving.

"Everyone clear?" Mason stands tall, a commander rallying his troops. "Let's move out."

"Clear!" The chorus of voices is a unified force, strength resonating in the single word.

As they file out, the determination etched on each face tells a story of unyielding loyalty. I take a deep breath, ready to do my part in the dance of danger and devotion that defines the Iron Reapers.

Mason's shadow falls over me. His hand, rough and calloused, wraps around my wrist, pulling me up to stand face-to-face with him. The urgency in his eyes is like flint striking steel, sparking a fire that makes my heart pound.

"Come with me," he says, voice low and gravelly. It's not a request, it's an order, one I don't think of disobeying.

We move away from the bustle, into the dim hallway that smells like oil and old smoke. Mason's grip on my hand is firm but careful, as if I'm something precious, something he can't afford to break.

"Mason?" My voice is barely above a whisper, a contrast to the chaos outside.

He stops and turns to me, his dark eyes locking onto mine. "Carlie, this shitstorm we're riding into..." He pauses, jaw working like he's grinding down the words before they come out. "You've gotta stay here, with the other old ladies."

"Mason, I—" But he places a finger over my lips, silencing me.

"Listen to me. You're startin' to mean more to me than I expected." His admission hangs heavy in the air, charged with a raw honesty that takes my breath away. "And I can't have you out there where it's gonna get nasty. Promise me, Carlie. Promise you'll stay safe here on the compound."

My throat tightens, but I nod, unable to find the right words. "I promise."

"Good." He leans down, pressing his lips against my forehead in a gesture so tender it feels at odds with the inked warrior I know him to be.

"Stay safe, Mason," I manage, my voice steady though everything inside me is shaking.

"I will," His response is a growl, laced with a fierceness that reassures and terrifies me all at once.

He strides back toward the commotion, leaving me in the quiet of the hallway. My fingertips linger on the spot where his kiss burned into my skin.

The rumble of engines vibrates through the walls, a thunderous prelude to the storm that's about to break. I peer around the corner, watching as the Iron Reapers mount their bikes, their faces etched with lines of determination.

"Move out!" Mason's command slices through the night.

Engines roar to life, a symphony of defiance, as the members pull away from the clubhouse. Each headlight fades into the darkness, carrying a brother ready to defend, ready to bleed.

In the empty silence left behind, my heart races with a mix of fear and pride. These men are going to war.