by Ella Frank
Lena didn’t give two hoots about the man next to her but he didn’t seem to be giving up without a fight. “Come on man, don’t poach. I’ve bought her drinks all night, at least let me give her an Orgasm.”
Lena kept her eyes locked with Mason’s and watched his jaw tense up. Then he nodded. “Fine. I’ll let you get her the drink, sir.” He reached under the bar and pulled out a glass along with all the ingredients he needed for the drink, including a more than decent amount of vodka. He slid the glass across the bar to her and looked at the man. “That’s thirteen dollars, please.”
Mason took the money and Lena noticed the man looking at her. She turned to him and smiled. “Thanks. I needed that.”
“You’re welcome, honey. What’d you say your name was again? Rebecca?”
She heard a cough behind her and knew it’d come from the bar. She nodded. “That’s right.”
Looking back at Mason, ready to play, she took a sip, licking her lips. “This place is busy tonight.”
He looked as though he was about to say something when a tall, stunning redhead pushed her way to the bar and gushed in a high-pitched voice, “Mason! Oh my god it’s been way to long, sweetheart.”
She looked right past Lena as though she weren’t even there.
“This place is packed! I don’t suppose,” she said, leaning across the bar to a mute Mason, “we can run out to the back for a minute or two? For old time’s sake?”
Lena looked across the bar at a wide-eyed Mason and narrowed her eyes in his direction.
Mason could not believe what was happening. First, he had to stand there and watch some moron drool all over the delicious doctor, while all he’d wanted to do was reach over and punch him out. Now, just when he was about to start flirting outrageously with the curvy goddess, Trisha had to show up. God, could this moment get any more awkward? He looked at Lena, who was glaring at him as if he were dog shit on her shoe, and then turned to try and get rid of the immediate problem—Trisha.
“No, Trisha, not tonight. Can’t you see we’re jam-packed in here?”
He watched Trisha look around again and this time she actually physically bumped into Lena, who turned her glare on her.
“Oh, I’m sorry.” Trisha then spun back around and leaned over smiling at him. “Oops. Now I’m running into your customers.”
Mason saw the moment Lena heard what Trisha had said and watched her shoulders stiffen and her back straighten. Oh shit, he thought, that was her grenade-lobbying pose and he and Trisha were in the line of fire. Just as he was about to say something to Lena he saw Shelly walking toward them. She looked at him, then Trisha, and lastly at Lena. Mason watched as the usually friendly Dr. Monroe got a look on her face that almost matched Lena’s when she was pissed. Fantastic. Just what he needed. The only ally he had now hated him. Turning back to Trisha, he said in a sterner voice, “You should leave, Trisha. I can’t get free tonight.”
She pouted and then asked, “How about tomorrow night?”
He was about to say, how about no night, when he saw the writer from Elegant Dining being escorted over to him by Wendy. He bit the inside of his cheek and willed himself to calm down. He was a professional and although this was turning out to be a huge clusterfuck, he could deal with it. He noticed Shelly had taken a seat beside her friend, who was still glaring at him in the hopes of him disintegrating into a pile of ash, and Dr. Monroe had leaned over and was whispering something in Lena’s ear. Lena didn’t turn to face her; just arched an eyebrow and kept deadly silent.
“Mason,” Wendy said, all smiles as she brought forward Peter Ryder from Elegant Dining.
“Excuse me,” Wendy said and finally, finally, saved him by pushing Trisha out of the way. Finally taking a hint, Trisha waved. “Call me.”
Not likely, he thought, if he ever got out alive.
“Mason. What a wonderful place you have here,” Mr. Ryder told him as he looked around the dining room and then turned back to face him.
Smiling stiffly and wiping damp palms on his thighs, he glanced over at Lena, who was still seated, back ramrod straight and a grimace in place as her eyes continued to glare at him.
“Thanks, Peter. I hope you enjoyed yourself tonight?”
“Oh, yes,” Peter said with a chuckle, “but not as much as you, I’m sure. Who was the redhead?”
He winced and just when he thought things couldn’t get worse, Lena threw her grenade.
“Oh. She’s number thirty- four.”
He watched the train wreck unfold in slow motion as it slowed down to a complete crawl before plowing into him.
“Excuse me?” Peter asked with a laugh turning to face who he assumed was an attractive stranger. Lena smiled at him but her eyes stayed cold.
“The redhead. She’s number thirty-four on his list. Didn’t you research him before you came?”
Peter glanced over to Mason who was now looking at Lena as if she’d lost her mind. Shelly, who’d been seated beside her, stood up.
“I don’t quite understand what you mean,” Peter replied, glancing from Lena and then back to where Mason stood behind the bar.
“Oh, let me explain it for you. If you Google this fine man here, it’ll show how many redheads, brunettes, and blondes he’s had ahhh—what did you call it, a good night with? That lady was number thirty-four.” She paused in her tirade for a moment and then added, “For this year alone! Who knew someone could be so very talented to juggle that many women around?”
“Lena, stop it,” Mason heard Shelly hiss under her breath, but nothing was going to stop her now. He watched with silent fury as she coolly decimated his character in front of a goddamn reporter.
“Oh, and do you know this man well?” he heard Peter ask.
She smiled sweetly, looked over to Mason, and then back to the reporter. “Oh yes. I was with him on Wednesday night. You see, I was planning to be number thirty-four, but I guess I got pushed out of the way.” With that parting shot, she bent down to reach for her purse and shawl.
Mason was still trying to wrap his brain around everything that’d just happened and how extremely pissed off he was when she started for the door. Shelly trailed behind her and he knew if he didn’t act now this would be it for him and Lena. Over before it began. Peter glanced at him with a confused look and Mason muttered under his breath, “I’m sorry.”
Knowing he was committing career suicide, he ran around the bar and took off after Lena. She was just about out the door when he grabbed her by the arm and pulled her into the door leading to the room upstairs. She looked at him with eyes so cold he thought they would freeze him. He saw Shelly behind her stop and wait, not knowing what to do. He looked at her and said through gritted teeth.
“Give us a minute, Shelly.” Then he dragged her up three steps, slammed the door shut, and locked it with a deafening click. Luckily, the dining room was not booked tonight due to some repairs that were being made on the fridge, so for the moment, this was the most private and secure place he could think to take her.
“What the fuck was that all about?”
Lena watched as he climbed one step and turned to face her where she stood against the wall. She still had some height on him because she was on the stair above. This she was happy about because, at this moment she needed all the leverage she could get.
“Screw you,” she spat at him, seething over the whole evening that’d gone to shit so quickly she couldn’t even begin to imagine when it’d been going right.
“Screw me?” he asked through clenched teeth, “Oh, Lena, trust me. You screwed me really good out there in the bar,” he said, waving his hand toward the bar.
She looked down at him and narrowed her eyes. “Oh, I’m so sorry that I stopped you from taking a minute in the back with that redhead number—”
“If you even mention a number, so help me God.”
Glaring at him, she realized he’d stepped forward, effectively pushing her against the wall. Then with slow concise words he ask
ed, “Now tell me what you were doing out there?”
“It dawned on me what a colossal mistake this has all been.” She paused, took a breath, and felt her chest heave. “That’s right, Langley. I saw the light in the space of five minutes with a redhead and some stranger called Peter.”
“If you’d shut your mouth for one second out there tonight I would’ve explained everything to you. But no, instead of waiting for a logical explanation, Dr. O’Donnell flipped the fuck out and turned into a raging bitch. Do you know what you cost me tonight?”
Lena just wanted to leave. She was so mad and possibly more inebriated than she originally thought, but this huge wall of a man wouldn’t get out of her way. So instead, she snapped at him. “Seven minutes of heaven in the back closet.”
He moved quicker than she could blink and he moved up a step and had one of his hands wrapped up in her hair and the other gripping her waist tight.
“Let go of me,” she spat at him.
Instead of complying, he just moved in even closer. He tugged her hair so she was now looking up at him.
“Your little temper tantrum was in front of Peter Ryder of Elegant Dining magazine. He was here tonight to interview me and get us into the national market.” He paused and she felt his whole body shake against hers with restrained anger. “But instead of a piece on my food, customers, and location, he’s probably going to write about how I fuck a different woman every night.”
Lena shook as he pushed against her. His hand at her waist slid down the curve of her hip and grabbed her ass as he hitched her up the wall and pushed his hips in tight to hold her there on tiptoes. She couldn’t breathe. In fact, she couldn’t think. She couldn’t even remember why she was so was pissed off and why she’d turned into such a raging lunatic. All she could think about was how hard his thick thighs and erection were as they pressed up intimately against her. The hand in her hair had softened a little but still wound tight, holding her still. He moved his pissed-off face in close to her and she saw the anger shimmering in his eyes.
“The problem with that story, though, is the only woman I want every night is trying to drive me in-fucking-sane. So tell me, Lena, what the fuck were you doing out there?”
Mason watched her pulse flutter at the base of her neck and he couldn’t help himself. Before she could answer him, he leaned in and kissed her neck. He heard her suck in a deep breath and was surprised to feel her reach up to grab his hair in her hands. She tightened them and pulled his head back. He looked at her with narrow eyes, noticing her flushed cheeks and beautiful green eyes that were now glazed over with hunger, and released his hold on her hair, dropping his hand down to her waist. She hadn’t put her shawl on when he’d dragged her into the stairwell, so she was pushed up against the wall wearing only a little black dress. Although he was furious with her, she looked absolutely delectable.
He trailed his eyes down over her beautiful breasts and then told her, “You’re going to keep your mouth shut and I’m going to give you that orgasm you asked for.” He thought for a moment she was going to tell him to get lost, but instead she leaned her head back against the wall and pushed her hips out toward him. He groaned low and moved in, grinding himself up against her. “Spread your legs just a little for me,” he instructed her boldly.
When she complied silently, he trailed a hand down her thigh to stroke the bare skin of her leg with his fingers. Her shoulders were pressed against the wall, pushing her chest out to him, and her hair was spilling down all around her. Her legs were spread apart just enough to make it look as though she were inviting him inside. Her short little skirt had ridden so far up her thighs he could now see some black lace of her panties peeking out at him. Tracing a line up behind her thigh until he reached the edge of that black lace, he watched her as she looked down between their bodies and then back at him. Her eyes were so wide, vulnerable, and devoid of all anger that he felt all of his frustration disappear as quickly as it’d come. He moved in close to her, placing his free hand by her head against the wall and then dipping his knees a little as he ground his hard cock right up against the lace of her panties. He rested his forehead against hers.
“What the hell are you doing to me?” he asked her, insane with his own raging desire to possess her.
She took a deep breath and her breasts rose up to him and then fell back down. He watched her lick her lips as she closed her eyes and whispered, “I’m so sorry.”
He gripped her waist with his free hand and pushed his hips hard against her, and he wasn’t sure if he was doing it for her pleasure or punishment, but either way it felt damn good. When she moaned softly, he lifted a hand to the neck of the dress and tugged it down along with that amazing bra. She opened her eyes slowly, rolled her hips into his, and thrust her naked breasts forward. So he did what any red-blooded, horny as fuck man would do. He leaned down and took one of her nipples into his mouth.
Lena moaned loudly when he dipped his head and sucked her nipple hard. She felt as though her skin was on fire and his mouth seemed to have a direct link to the nerves between her thighs. She reached up with one hand to grip the back of his hair, but this time she gently tugged him forward as he flicked her taut nipple with his tongue.
“Stop teasing me,” she demanded. When he looked at her, she saw the twinkle back in his eyes. She didn’t like fighting with him, but when that redhead had come through the door, it was as though Lena had lost her mind. All she’d wanted tonight was his hands on her, and instead that bimbo had been asking for the same thing. She knew she’d done what she had out of jealousy. Jealousy and fear, because what could he want with her when he had women like that throwing themselves at him? Right then he seemed to decide to show her because one of his hands made its way down between her thighs and started rubbing against the damp lace that was irritating her aroused skin.
“Please—” she panted softly with her head against the wall and her fingers in his hair.
He looked up from where he’d been kissing and asked with a smug grin, “Please what?”
Shutting her eyes, she shook her head against the wall and bit her bottom lip, pushing her hips out against his hand, trying to get his fingers where she needed them. “I knew you’d do this to me.”
“Do what?” he asked, leaning in grinning against her lips.
She smiled too and bit his bottom lip gently. “Make me beg.”
He brought his free hand up and tugged on one of her wet nipples and finally he slid his other finger between her panties and her wet slick folds. She groaned loudly when she felt his finger slide backward and forward, teasing her clitoris with each pass. She shut her eyes and heard him groan. “Damn, Lena, you’re fucking dripping.”
Swallowing, she pushed against his hand and finally she felt his finger slide inside her. Her eyes flew open and locked with his as he pulled the same finger out then slid it in again. He smirked at her. “Good?”
Licking her top lip, she nodded and then reached down to grab his other hand. She brought it up to her mouth. When he pushed inside her again, she sucked his other finger into her mouth deeply. He bumped his hips up against her.
“Fuck,” he muttered, and leaned down to take her mouth. He slid his tongue deep between her lips as he pushed his finger in and out between her slippery folds. Groaning, he felt himself hitch her up and she wrapped her legs around his waist as he wedged her against the wall and fucked her with his fingers. Panting harder, she wrapped her arms around his neck and felt him take one of her nipples into his mouth right when he pushed two thick fingers into her. She screamed and her thighs clamped down hard against his hand, crushing him against her breasts as the orgasm washed over her.
Chapter Eleven
Lena woke the next morning with a killer hangover. She winced as the sun streamed into the bedroom across her pillow. Groaning, she rolled over on the bed and ran into something solid. She froze. Please no, please no. She turned her head slowly and there was Mason, lying beside her with his head nestled i
nto one of her pillows. How had this happened? The last thing she remembered was their huge fight, him pulling her aside, and blowing her mind on the stairs. After that, there was nothing. Again, she looked at him, very careful not to make any sudden moves that might wake him. He was lying on his back, and his hair was so dark against her white pillow she almost reached out to touch it. She bit her lip and pulled her hand back to her chest, clutching the sheet tightly. His eyes were closed, and she noticed those long sooty lashes against his cheek. He truly was an absolutely breathtaking man. Scooting quietly, she moved to get out of bed when his eyes opened and locked onto hers. He didn’t move, just stayed right where he was, as though she’d invited him. For all she knew, maybe she had.
“Good morning, Lena,” he said in a low, gravelly voice.
“Ahh . . . morning.” She watched as he lifted an arm and casually draped it over his head, giving her an amazing view of his bicep as it flexed and the soft hair springing out from under his arm. Dragging her eyes up to his face again, she saw him watching her.
“Where were you going?”
Arching a brow at him she asked, “Have you forgotten you’re in my bed?” Pausing for a moment she then rushed on, “Actually. Why are you in my bed?”
With his other hand, he lazily scratched his chest and then grinned. “You invited me.”
Lena’s mouth fell open and she shook her head. “I find that very hard to believe, Langley. Especially after . . .” She paused.
“Especially after our fight?” he asked.