His Pawn (The Manhattan Tales Book 1)

by Thorne, Willa

  Even during our sophomore days in college, she was withdrawn and stand-offish toward me. She worked as a barista in this very coffee shop, and since I frequented almost daily, we began talking more and more. We discovered that we both had a love for thrifting, shelter animals, and she was my inspiration for changing my major from Economics and Marketing to Social Work. Someday, we’ll open a community Center for Disadvantaged youth.

  “So… let’s talk about you.” Elyse suddenly turns the topic onto me. “It looks like you’re doing just fine.”

  I shrugged. Apparently neither of us wants to own up to our own situations. I watched her pull out a pink starburst from her pocket and unwrap the candy before popping it in her mouth. I don’t understand how she can eat those and drink a latte at the same time, but it’s part of the Elyse package.

  She studies me for a moment and takes another sip. “Jillian Katherine Pryor, you’re not telling me something.”

  I let out a sigh as I fumbled with my coffee cup. I couldn’t keep it in any longer and spilled. “The Sloanes fired me, and I didn’t have anywhere to stay.”

  Elyse’s blue eyes became round. “What! Why?”

  “Lara found my vibrator and ran around the house, teasing me with it. That was the night her mom had a soiree. They weren’t too pleased. Horrified actually.” I could feel my face flush with embarrassment at the memory.

  Elyse rolled her eyes. “Nobody told that girl to go through your personal things in your room. So, where have you been living then?”

  She looked me up and down, critiquing my clothes before her eyes fell on the coat and designer bag that lay beside me on the bench.

  “Mason Woodward,” I busied myself with another sip of my now-cold latte.

  Elyse looked at me, confused. “Your brother’s ex-friend? Isn’t he the heir to some Fortune 500 enterprise?”

  “Yeah…”

  “I’ve read about him in the entertainment sections. He sounds like a real dick.”

  I gave her a tight smile. Elyse was my dearest friend, but I still couldn’t give too much information because of the confidentiality agreement.

  “He can be really sweet sometimes. Besides, it’s not me he’s mad at. He said I could stay with him until I get back on my feet… but you can’t tell a soul.” I looked at her in all seriousness.

  She enjoyed her own privacy, so I knew she wouldn’t press for anymore information that I didn’t give.

  “Sure thing, babe,” she gave me a wary look, like she didn’t trust my decision to stay with Mason, but there wasn’t anything she could do about it. She wasn’t in a position to open her door to me, and unbeknownst to her, I’d signed a contract.

  We talked in the coffee shop and then walked around for a while. She told me about her two half-sisters who are four and six. She acted like she was annoyed by them but I could tell she was starting to become fond of them. It was great to hear her funny stories about their antics and served as a good distraction from the secrets I kept buried deep within me.

  ****

  I arrived home around six, with just an hour to prepare for Mason’s arrival. My heart was skipping wildly in my chest at the thought of seeing him again after so many days. I wondered how he would make love to me this evening. My blood heated and sent a tremor down to my core at the very thought of how he handled me the first two times we’d been together. It was as if he knew exactly what I needed, like he had a telepathic connection to the needs I hadn’t even known existed. I showered and pulled on a red-lace thong, lace thigh-highs, matching bra, and then reluctantly slid my glasses onto my face before I stepped into the polished Louboutin heels.

  I stared at myself in the mirror. If not for the glasses, I wouldn’t even recognize myself. Already, I could picture his strong, precise fingers trailing down my body, caressing me, gripping me…

  I arrived in the library with my arousal heightened. A simple note lay on the coffee table closest to the hearth, which was conveniently lit by the staff. I opened the note and saw his own script:

  Bend over the cushions of the armchair, and wait for me.

  I glanced around the library and spotted the closest plush emerald colored armchair and with an escalating heartrate, I bent over, resting my elbows on the plush velvet. My ass, which is too round in my opinion, feels exposed. The sheer lace of my black thong is already damp and I feel too vulnerable but this only adds to the heated anticipation. I wait for what seems forever.

  My feet start to ache lightly in the perfect five-inch heels. Finally, I hear the door open and close lightly. I sense his pace come closer to me and I dared to look at him over my shoulder. He’s still wearing his dark gray Armani, but his tie is loosened around his neck. His stormy eyes catch notice of my gaze.

  “I did not give you permission to look up, Ms. Pryor,” and immediately I looked back to the cushion of the chair.

  “I only wanted to see you,” I answered.

  “I’m gone for one week and already you are forgetting the rules, sugar.” His voice is firm, disconnected.

  He seemed distant, cold, like I was nothing more than a hired call girl…

  “... Sir,” I blurted, correcting myself, but it was too late.

  I still feel my heart thrumming in my ears as he stands over me. I can feel the heat from his body on the back of my thighs and my ass. His hands caress my arms, and my lower back, trailing down to my exposed ass. Then he leaned over and kissed my neck as his expert fingers pulled the thin lace of my thong aside and brushed his fingers over the wet heat. I was already throbbing for him.

  He plunged a finger into my slit and I let out a soft moan. I writhed lightly and tried to push my ass into his hand.

  “You’re already so slick for me. I can smell your arousal,” he leaned over and whispered into my ear.

  I felt his hot breath on my neck as a hand firmly pinned me into the cushion. He plunged a second finger deep into me and began pumping fiercely. I gasped and cried his name out in response.

  “Oh, F-fu… Mason!” I whimpered. I could sense his dark smirk over me.

  “Go ahead, sweetness. You’re not the pure flower you once were. You can say the F-word,” his seductive whisper was sinful.

  It wasn’t my nature to say that word for no reason at all. Sometimes I’d lost my temper while venting about the Sloanes to Elyse, but that was not often. I bit down on my lip as I whimpered into the chair. His fingers still plunged mercilessly into my channel, now adding a third, and I was trying desperately to grind my ass against his hand. His free hand firmly gripped my hip and held me in place.

  “Don’t move without my permission,” he commanded, and it stilled me.

  “But I want you,” I pleaded, desperately. I knew I sounded pathetic but I didn’t care.

  His fingers continued to force their way deeply into my dripping heat. In, out, in, out. I couldn’t handle much more of this as his hand caressed my tailbone lightly up and down. I was on the verge, clenching around his fingers. I felt my climax about to rip through me, and then he suddenly pulled away from me and I cried out in agony.

  “You were very defiant on the phone with me earlier,” his tone was reprimanding.

  “Mason… Sir, please…” I pleaded, feeling completely out of my element from his torment. I’d been denied an orgasm and it felt unbearable. My core ached with a need to release, with overwhelming desire.

  “Consider this your punishment, the repercussions I warned you about earlier when you were quite cheeky with me over the phone.” His hands stroked firmly through my wild waves, then I felt him put distance between us. I felt a slight chill with the absence of his body so close to mine, even though the hearth was still burning. From across the dimly lit library, he spoke again.

  “You’re going to earn your orgasm, my little Jilly Bean. Come over to me.”

  Hell, his words were so silky. I took a second to gain my momentum. My legs felt weak and shaky from the pleasure he gave me, and the denied release. I didn’t trust my
self to walk in these expensive heels, but slowly I straightened. I turned and found him lounging across the room in a sofa that matched the green arm chair. He unfastened his fly and then rested back with his hands behind his head.

  Steadily, I crossed over to him. His gaze on me was animalistic. His eyes blazed with lust. There was not a trace of that heated sweetness I felt from him the last time.

  “On your knees,” he prompted. I stared into his eyes as I compliantly fell to my knees in front of him. I was confused by what he was doing to me, and how he was acting. I was also incredibly frustrated by the torment he’d given me. Glaring up at him, I pulled out his rock hard cock and massaged it between my hands. I wished for once that I could make him weak and out of control, but his eyes burned down on me and he grabbed fistfuls of my hair before he pushed my head down.

  “Take it, sweet heart. Hands behind your back,” He ordered.

  Now, I was beyond frustrated. The flicker from the blazing hearth illuminated his face, emphasizing the heated desire on his face. I took the tip between my lips and ravenously licked the tip, tasting the salty bead of precum.

  I sensed his body tense from the pleasure I gave him as my tongue massaged the sensitive spot between the tip and the base. I’d learned that from last time. I took my pent-up sexual frustration out on his thick length. His breathing became raw, raspy.

  I felt such exquisite power. My lips pumped furiously up and down, pausing briefly to massage the head with my tongue. I heard his groans as both hands grasped my hair roughly; it was encouraging. Despite being agitated, I still wanted to please him. My lips continued their rapid pace, even when I felt my jaw become sore. I felt him losing his control; the more he gripped my hair, twisting my scalp. It was painful, but I loved it because it showed me how lost he was at this moment. I did that to him.

  “Oh fuck,” he gave another guttural groan and I drove my mouth further up his length until it hit the back of my throat. That was all it took for him to lose himself completely. I felt his hot, salty liquid spurt into my mouth and run down my throat. Some of it dribbled down my lip, but I swallowed what he gave me.

  His breathing was ragged as he came down from his orgasm. His grip loosened in my hair and I finally pulled away and looked up at him. His lips were parted slightly and he closed his eyes briefly, and I could tell he was trying to regain his control.

  “Bloody hell, Jillian…” It was all he could say for the moment.

  I couldn’t help my smile as I looked up at him. Without thinking about it, I slid my hands up his firm torso. I was beyond aroused at this point. I loved the feel of his heat on my skin. He suddenly gripped me by both arms.

  “No,” he said huskily. There was hunger in his eyes as he quickly pushed my hands away and stood up, towering over me now.

  I thought he was going to envelop me in a passionate kiss; I hadn’t felt his lips on mine in a week and I craved the taste of his mouth. Instead, he gripped me by my waist and bent me over the arm of the sofa. The sudden tear of my thong sent shock of wanting down to the very wet area between my thighs.

  “Do you want release, Ms. Pryor?” He whispered into my ear in between nibbles on my neck.

  “I want you, Sir,” I breathed pathetically.

  His hands firmly ran up and down the curves of my body, feeling my round hips, my ass, and my breasts. He pressed his firm body against mine, and I felt his erection growing thick and hard against my ass again. I was aching with need at this point.

  “Tell me what you want,” his voice was lustful in my ear.

  “I want you. Inside me. However you want…” I pleaded.

  “Good enough,” he answered, and grabbed my wrists as he bound them behind my back in one grasp. His other hand was firmly positioned on my hip as he rammed into me without any further warning. I felt the entire length of him drive into me, to the hilt.

  I let out a deep cry, gasping and moaning as he took me without mercy from behind. I felt my slick walls tighten around his cock as I gushed around him. Still, he continued to pound me through my orgasm.

  The slippery sounds of skin against skin echoed in my ears as he continued his furious tempo. His grip on my wrists was tight, but I hardly cared. The electric shocks of pleasure racing up and down my core were more than I could handle.

  “Who do you belong to?” He roared, and I felt a sudden sting on my ass as his free hand rang down on my bare skin. I cried out again, moaning as he continued to drive deep.

  “Yours, all yours, Sir,” I responded instantly.

  “Damn straight you are mine. This body belongs to me,” he never relented as he fucked me hard. “You’ll remember every thrust, every damn stroke of my cock. Every time you sit, stand, or lie down, you’ll remember I was here.”

  His filthy words brought about another wave of lust pooling between my thighs, and my legs were completely weak with need. I moaned his name loudly, begging him not to stop, and he didn’t… not until we were both too exhausted to continue.

  Without a word, he kissed the nape of my neck and then carried me to my bedroom. He tucked me under the covers. It was foolish of me to hope he’d stay in the bed with me, but then he switched off the bedside light and closed the door as he left my room.

  Mason was correct about one thing for certain: I was sore, very sore, even lying down, and the sensations and images of that evening replayed in my mind over and over again until I finally drifted off into a deep sleep.

  10. Mason Woodward

  Jillian began her last semester that following Monday. It was the start of a new kind of schedule. I quite liked knowing I could have her at my beck and call any time of the day while she was on holiday from classes. Still, I had to remind myself that I was a means to an end just as she was a means to an end for me. These days, her course load seemed intensive and I was not about to disrupt her studies. I had her give me a printed copy of her course schedule, in case she could afford a mid-day visit to my office in between classes.

  I did have her visit on occasion, with the guise of bringing me coffee and she never disappointed. It soon became clear to me that I would not tire of her after three months. There was an electrical chemistry between us that even I could not deny at this point. The components of my plan had already unfolded the minute she spread herself on the office sofa for me.

  My pen tapped idly between my fingers as I sat in my office chair, thinking. Of course, I stuck to the stipulations of our contract. I pulled my end of the deal, and she followed my specific instructions at the end of the day, but I’d become careful about placing the needed distance between us.

  The pull between us, although strong, had to be tapered. She was still willing and able to please me, but the light that was once in her eyes had faded as the weeks went by. Good, I attempted to convince myself but there was no denying that I missed the way her face illuminated when she saw me.

  “Who’s the woman?”

  A familiar female voice broke me from my thoughts, snapping me back to the present. I looked up from my desk and saw my cousin, Piper, sit across from me in the highback leather chair. She held up the current gossip section of the New York Times, which displayed a picture of me walking with Jill on the campus of NYU.

  With a scowl, I rounded the desk and ripped the paper from her polished fingers. Piper didn’t seem upset. Despite her question, she already knew about Jillian. My cousin never displayed much emotion about anything. She’d made a very successful career as a therapist, and it was no wonder. Her clients could freely spill their woes without feeling an inkling of judgement. Her attire was often as bland in appearance as her facial expressions. If we hadn’t grown up together, and if she didn’t already know all of my family’s secrets, I wouldn’t have adopted her as my own therapist. She was probably the only person in the world I could trust. Aside from Jill. I immediately pushed that thought far from my mind.

  Piper took the paper from my hand in one swift swoop and read the column aloud. “British-American Playboy fin
ds new girlfriend.” She stops reading and looks up at me.

  “Sources say that the son of J.A. Woodward and Company has found a new flavor of the week on the campus of NYU. Although the woman remains unidentified, it is evident from this picture that Mason Woodward looked quite cozy with-” I interrupted this hideous gossip read and snatched the article from her hands again. I crumpled the paper and shoved it into my top desk drawer.

  “I don’t do relationships. Everyone knows that,” I barked.

  “No, you do revenge fucking instead,” Piper responds plainly, but with a raised brow. “Tell me, how do you plan to go about ruining her and sending that news on to her brother?”

  Weeks ago, my plan was flawless. I knew exactly how I was going to seek retribution.

  “What sense of satisfaction will this ultimately bring you?” She asked that last question.

  “I don’t remember booking a therapy session this week,” I snapped instead.

  “You need to let this go, Mason. This is about more than just your best friend screwing your fiance. You know it.”

  I felt the tick in my jaw knot, my blood boiling. Yes, I confided in Piper, but we always did it on my terms. She had much more to say, seeming desperate to save this poor girl from me.

  At that moment, my office phone buzzed. Angrily I picked up the phone.

  “Yes?” I snapped into the receiver. I could practically see Elizabeth jump in her chair.

  “Mr. Woodward, your three-o’clock appointment is here.”

  “Brilliant. Send them in,” I slammed the receiver down on the hook. Normally, I loathed these late-afternoon meetings but at this moment, I welcomed them.

  “Think about what you’re doing,” Piper said blandly as she scooped her designer bag from the chair and exited my office.

  I knew I intimidated the investors that I had arranged to meet with. Piper had put me in a mood just before the appointment. I barely listened to a damn thing either of them said to me, but they still agreed to consider my terms. By the time they left, it was four o’clock. I pulled out my mobile and sent a text to Jillian.