His Pawn (The Manhattan Tales Book 1)

by Thorne, Willa

  “Please just… fuck me,” I begged him as his fingers continued to bring me to the edge of an intense climax. My whole body shuddered as ripples washed over me.

  Mason suddenly withdrew his fingers from me, and I nearly cried from the withdrawal. I whimpered pathetically.

  He grasped me by both arms and turned me to face him. “Is that what you really want? I’ll warn you now: If I take you, I won’t go soft. I’ve had one hell of a week. I’ll fuck you hard. Long. Rough.”

  Oh. My. God.

  I was panting, and he knew it. Was he ever as desperate for me as I was for him? I looked up into his handsome gaze. He looked down on me with such hunger as he kept his grip on my hips.

  “An answer, Jilian,” he ordered.

  “Yes,” I responded immediately, without hesitation. “I want you. However you need me.”

  His light brown eyes suddenly became hooded with black lust. He looked me up and down. I was wearing nothing but a black Led Zeppelin t-shirt and black lace panties. It was the complete opposite of his very expensive black suit with matching silk tie.

  Without a word, He grabbed me by the arm, and led me up the narrow wooden stairs.

  “Rick said this was only storage,” I said.

  “Rick says what I tell him to say.” Mason stated calmly.

  He unlocked the door and opened it, but did not turn the light on. He entered the room, seeming to know his way around without any light.

  “What are-” I began to ask, but he suddenly took hold of me firmly and held me against the wall.

  “Don’t move,” He ordered in a low voice.

  “Yes… Sir,” I responded.

  I sucked in a sharp breath when I heard the faint clink of metal chains. He took one of my hands and I felt soft, thick leather grasp my wrist. He bound my other wrist in the smooth cuff and my arms were now bound above my head. Then I heard the sliding rattle of chain against a steel beam and it suddenly locked into place.

  “You know I will never hurt you,” He said quietly, and I sensed that he could barely contain his hunger.

  “Mason, I know you would never hurt me,” I looked up at the shadow of his face.

  He suddenly switched on the light, and I caught the glimpse of strange furniture, contraptions and chains…

  What. The. Hell?

  Then he slipped his fingers beneath my panties again and I lost my brain. Two fingers slipped into my soaking heat and I spread my legs a little more for him as he rubbed with fervor against my most sensitive spot.

  “Mason,” I threw my head back and whimpered loudly, closing my eyes, feeling my legs grow weak.

  He gripped the back of my head and forced my gaze on his face. I couldn’t move my hands, completely captivated by him, as I was brought to the brink of such pleasure. Then suddenly he withdrew his fingers, denying me yet again.

  He grabbed the lace around my hips and tore furiously. I felt a slight sting on my skin as he tore the fabric away so fiercely. He undressed himself, in great frustration, as though he could not step out of his clothes fast enough.

  Then, he stood before me, firm, fully nude. His solid, muscled, olive tone there for me to admire. His cock was rock hard and ready for me. I savored the sight of him, feeling the fiery desire for him course through my veins.

  Before I could think, he gripped both globes of my ass and lifted me and I instinctively wrapped my thighs around his waist. He hadn’t entered me.

  Instead, he began kissing my neck, licking and sucking every inch trailing down to my collarbone. When he could go no further because of my shirt, he kissed my mouth with such a starving passion. Good grief. It left me panting. I leaned in and kissed him desperately, caressing his tongue tenderly, but hungrily. I felt like an animal, and it was exhilarating. The passionate exchange lingered for some time until he finally pulled his lips away from mine. I could feel how hard he’d grown just from the kiss. His solid length pressed against my pubic bone and it made me want him that much more.

  “You belong to me,” He spoke with a controlled yet authoritative calmth. It wasn’t a question. It was a statement.

  “Yes,” I moaned in a whisper.

  “Yes, what?” He demanded.

  “Yes, Sir.”

  At that moment, he impaled me to the hilt. I threw my head back and cried out as shocks of pleasure erupted throughout my body. I felt my toes curl, with my legs wrapped around his waist as he held me firmly in place.

  “I’m going to fuck you, Jillian. Hard.”

  My heart was a monster in my chest, roaring furiously as he instantly began pumping me with an intensity that I didn’t know existed. Again, I threw my head back, overcome with pleasure as he drilled into me rampantly.

  “Oh, F..ff.. Mason,” I cried out loudly as he took me without mercy.

  This wasn’t some sweet reunion; this was him unleashing something that he’d been harboring for a long time.

  But fuck me, it felt amazing… Wow, I wouldn’t have thought something like that two months ago…

  “That’s right, baby. Take everything I give you. Say my name,” He coaxed amidst his own pleasure. He held me firmly against him, groaning into my ear.

  “I love how you take me and fuck me,” I whispered, moaning as he took out all his frustrations on me.

  This only encouraged him and his pace picked up, not that I thought it was possible at this point. I felt sore, but I wanted his claim on me.

  The chains rattled, and the leather cuffs began to rub against my wrists. Still, I wanted more. He ground his cock deeply into me, putting pressure on my G-spot again, massaging me in ways that made me feel drunk with pleasure. I lost myself, crying out loudly as my body convulsed in orgasm and I felt myself clench around him. Still, he didn’t let up his pace. He continued furiously.

  A few minutes later, I felt his body tense and he growled in my ear as he released. He gripped my ass harder, digging into my flesh as he came hard. He held me for a moment as he came back down to earth, breathing heavily. He kissed me deeply for a few moments, and then gently set me down.

  Tenderly, he unclasped the cuffs and then massaged my arms and wrists as he locked his lips with mine again. Then he withdrew and looked down at me, assessing me to know what I thought about all of this. It didn’t surprise me that he had a kinky … I really didn’t know what to call this. The room was large, an entire third floor. There were leather benches and tables with cuffs built into them. Chains were mounted into the walls. There was a contraption that looked like a cross mounted on the far side of the wall, although at the moment I didn’t know what it was. On the opposite end of the room there was a large, four-post bed with shackles built into the wood. The decor was dark and sleek. I blinked, trying to process everything.

  So, this is what he meant when he said his apartment was better equipped.

  “I never promised I was a saint, Jillian,” Mason finally spoke, looking down at me.

  “I never accused you of it,” I answered breathlessly, still trying to process the scene, as well as the mind-blowing sex I’d just had with him. “I’m not surprised.”

  “You’re not, at all?” He asked, quirking a dark brow at me.

  “No. I’m just not,” I answered. “Is this why you’ve held back from me? You thought I’d be scared?”

  He ran a hand through his hair lightly. “Not all women can handle it. I had to know what you could and couldn’t take before I ever let you come up here.”

  So many questions raced through my mind. How long have you been into this? What made you want this? What made you decide I was worth bringing up here?

  “Come with me,” He said, taking my hand. He led me out of the room and back down to the second floor.

  “What made you decide to bring me up there?” I finally asked, as he led me by the hand into the marbled bathroom.

  He looked down at me as he pulled my t-shirt over my head. There was a smirk on his face.

  “You let me take you hard and rough just before I
left for Mumbai. Instead of telling me to stop, you begged for more that night. After, I worried that I had hurt you but when I called you the next morning, you seemed to want more.” He gave me a feral grin.

  “I did,” I smiled up at him.

  “Then I walked in on you pleasuring yourself. My resolve went out the window.”

  “Did you think about bringing me up there often?” I asked with a playful grin. I was still on a high. My thoughts and emotions were all over the place.

  “All the damn time,” he answered. “Your brother had you so sheltered. I never imagined you could handle me, though.

  “Travis was overprotective, but I’m not made of glass.”

  “I can tell,” Mason grinned as he turned on the bath. He was much more relaxed now, acting more human and less predatory now.

  I watched the bath water run as he picked up a glass jar from the shelf near the sink and poured some lavender scented crystals into the water.

  “You’ll need a warm soak. Your muscles aren’t used to what I’ve just done to you and you might be sore in the morning.” He said this as he tested the foamy water. “The water is perfect. It should relax your arms.”

  He kissed my lips chastely and then turned to exit the bathroom.

  “Wait, you’re not joining me?” I asked, knowing that I appeared crestfallen. Why did he always bring me to the edge of passion only to leave me hanging over the cliff? He kept me at arm’s length and it was hurting.

  “I don’t bathe with women.” He responded in a clipped fashion.

  “What about with me? Just me, Mason.”

  He was quiet for a long time; His eyes flared as he stared down at me with a stormy expression. A stone mask replaced the once-tender expression he held in his eyes. I held my hand out to him and it was shaking slightly, possibly from the probability of rejection.

  “Please.” It was all I said, and enough to make him break. To my surprise and delight, he took my hand and guided me into the bath water. He lowered himself into the foam and rested his head against the marbled ledge before he gently pulled me down to him. I was cradled against him, nestled as he wrapped his arms around me.

  He kissed the nape of my neck as he rubbed my biceps with both hands. I lay my head back against his chest and my heart felt so full.

  “Jillian Pryor, I swear…” He whispered into my ear, but his voice trailed off. It was as though he didn’t want to finish that sentence.

  I took his hands in my own and held them to my lips, kissing them tenderly before he continued massaging my arms.

  He was so gentle and tender with me as though I wasn’t some outlet to be used solely for sex. In that brief moment, I had a taste what it would have been like if I was Mason’s love. I already knew I was in love with him. I knew this arrangement was going to leave me broken. Shattered. I tried not to dwell on it. I wanted to live in the moment, and enjoy this precious time with him. It was a fleeting moment which I’d keep with myself forever. I wanted to pretend.

  What if…

  ****

  That night with Mason was darkly magical. Sadly, I wouldn’t see him again while his family remained in the city. I had to wait for his calls, because my calls always went straight to voicemail. When I texted him, I’d wait hours before I read a response from him, and they were always vague and brief. I tried to brush the hurt away.

  You don’t know what he is dealing with, I reminded myself.

  To my dismay, that was the one and only night Mason took me into his private floor of kinky bondage. I’d had one incredible night with leather cuffs, chains and a steamy bath. I didn’t realize then that I wouldn’t see him for several days.

  “When am I going to see you again?” I had asked once during a brief phone call from his office.

  “Soon.” I could hear him grit his teeth.

  His voice was on edge and his body was wound tight again.

  “Once my father is finished auditing my production at the New York office, we’ll be clear.”

  If I didn’t already know Mason so well, I’d have been intimidated by him for sure. I almost felt sorry for his office staff, but I felt worse for him. What kind of family did he have that made him so callous and edgy during their once-a-year visit? I wanted to hold him and comfort him but I knew he would never let me.

  Mason explained that his family was staying in other rooms within his hotel, not actually staying within his penthouse. This information made me feel even more like a dirty kept little secret.

  “Why did you have to remove me from your penthouse?” I finally had a ballsy moment and asked him while he’d slipped away to call me one afternoon. We were now going on day three that we had not seen each other. He only phoned me on occasion when nobody was around.

  “Jill,” his voice warned.

  “Mason, I’m just so confused.” My voice was soft.

  “I’m protecting you.” He spoke bluntly and I believed him.

  “You are safe at my other address. Nobody will berate you or try to make you feel inferior. You have everything you need and you can still ring Mrs. O’Malley if you need her to bring any money-”

  “I need you.” I blurted this, and he fell silent.

  “I have to go,” His voice was icy, conflicted and a bit hurried.

  “I’ll see you as soon as I can.” Then he ended the call.

  I stared at my phone with such a heavy heart. I was in deep, deep trouble.

  I busied myself with other agenda as best as I could. I finished my assignments, prepared for two exams and had dinner with Elyse at our favorite Mexican restaurant.

  On the fourth night of Mason’s absence, I sat in the living room with my text book. Reruns of Seinfeld played on the television, providing background noise. I laughed at some of the jokes that played on the television as I highlighted an entry in my text. As background laughter erupted from the audience on the sitcom, I heard the front door close and lock.

  Mason! My heart jumped in my chest, feeling such joy. I tossed my textbook aside and jumped off the sofa to greet him in the front room.

  “You’re back!” I exclaimed softly as I darted into the front hall, but I stopped dead in my tracks. My voice halted in my throat when I saw the tall, gorgeous woman standing in front of the door.

  She was waif thin, dressed in a decadent emerald gown of silk and chiffon. Diamonds sparkled around her throat and draped from her ears. I could smell the gentle scent of her expensive perfume. Her hair was styled to one side, sending a cascade of rich, black curls down the nape of her olive neck. Her green eyes scrutinized me blatantly and a frown creased her face.

  I felt my heart stop beating. So many thoughts whirled through my mind at this second. Here I was, standing in front of this woman in plaid pink pajama bottoms, bare feet and a white t-shirt, no bra. My hair was bunched in a messy bun at the top of my head. Alright, I wasn’t expecting Mason over this evening and I was studying for an exam, but still… I never felt more inferior in all of my life than I did at this very moment.

  Who is this woman? And why does she have a key? Why does she look like she just stepped off the red carpet? I finally exhaled shakily when I felt my face turning blue from lack of oxygen.

  “Hi,” I finally said, finding my voice. The woman continued to stare at me appraisingly and it was unbelievably strange and uncomfortable.

  “I saw the gossip clippings from the newspaper,” she finally spoke in a flawless British accent. “I did not expect you to be so fat.”

  What the hell?

  I stared down at my frame. I wasn’t fat. Sure I wasn’t waif thin like she was, but Mason seemed to like what he saw…

  “Meeting someone for the first time while they’re in their pajamas, studying for an exam is not a fair assessment.” I responded.

  I was trying to mask my nerves, but the British tone, and similar features told me everything: This is Mason’s sister, Zara.

  “Still, I think it wouldn’t make much difference.” I watched the elegant wo
man carry herself with a decorum of grace as she left me standing there in the front hall, and went into the kitchen. She helped herself to an unopened bottle of red wine.

  “Would you like a glass?” She asked me, as though she had not just insulted me and called me fat.

  “No, thank you,” I answered. She barely acknowledged me as she poured herself a glass and sipped it. Then she finally turned to me.

  “Where is Mason?” I asked.

  “He is still at the gala with our parents,” She answered, taking another long, healthy sip of wine. She finished her glass and then refilled it half-way.

  I tried to come up with a diplomatic way of asking why she was here, but there was no polite way around that question.

  “Why are you here?” I asked. Judging by the way she treated me, it wasn’t for pleasantries.

  Her exotic green eyes darted toward me as she sipped her wine. “I’m here because my brother is a damn fool and we all know it.”

  I felt an uncomfortable heat spread over my body; This was not the same type of heat I felt when Mason touched me. At this very moment, I understood why Mason kept me hidden from his family.

  “For the love of God, what does he see in you?” She asked aloud, taking another deep sip of wine. She seemed to be asking that question in amazement, rather than to me.

  “I wondered that myself,” I answered, feeling ashamed that my opinion of myself felt so low at this point.

  She crossed the kitchen and stood closer to me now. Her frame towered over me and she looked down at me with a hint of sympathy. Or, perhaps that was my imagination playing tricks on me.

  “You cannot love him, dear.” She spoke more softly this time. “He is our father’s only son. There are big plans for him, and they do not involve you. Surely you must understand this. Loving you could cost him billions. You wouldn’t want that for him, would you?”

  She looked at me as she drained her second glass of wine. Something told me this woman had a drinking problem. Being in a family like the Woodwards, I can’t say I blame her. Still, her words reached into my chest and yanked my heart out. I was trying to piece together the weird shit she was saying to me.