“Oh,” I mumbled, watching him drop his pants.
A familiar ache settled between my thighs as I stared at him. He was such a beautiful man. His bronze skin and toned physique complemented each other perfectly.
I hoped he was going to attempt to sleep tonight. Then, I could attempt to sneak out. I’d spotted the living room on our way back upstairs.
I couldn’t come up with a logical reason why he should take me to see it right then. I should have asked for a tour.
He turned to face me, and I traced the outline of his abs with my eyes. I’d never seen him work out, but he had to do something to maintain his shape. I doubted killing people was a muscle booster. Though, if he lifted enough bodies, I guess that could be equivalent to lifting weights.
“Katie.”
My eyes snapped up to his.
I took in the smile on his face and gave him one that matched. He was so hot and cold—mostly cold. Learning about his mother made me understand his obsession a little more, at least from my point of view.
“Pick four questions,” he said, walking towards me.
Of course, everything had to be some kind of game with him. If he was only giving me four questions, I wanted them to count. And I already knew some small things about him, partially thanks to Declan. Like the fact that he’d grown up loved.
His past wasn’t the mystery, though. He was.
“When did you start…or how did you start painting?” Killing, I silently added.
“That’s an easy one.” He climbed over me and sat down, bracing his back against the headboard and pulling me up to his chest.
“I killed my nanny one morning while she was making me breakfast. It was the day after my eleventh birthday. I never really like her; I can’t give you a reason why. I just didn’t.” He lifted a strand of my hair and began to twirl it around his finger.
I wanted to ask how he did it. I tried to picture an eleven-year-old Mason killing someone. I made a bold move and knocked his hand away, moving up to straddle his lap. He blinked at me in surprise for once, keeping his arms by his sides.
Trying to act natural, I placed my palms on his chest, one right over his heart.
Me attempting to seduce him was laughable. I had no clue what to do, only that I needed him to sleep, and sleep heavily. Sometimes on television, guys would fall asleep after sex. I wasn’t sure how well that worked in reality, but it was really my only option.
The last time I attempted to do something sneaky, his dogs tore a woman apart.
“Where is Max?” Crap. I hadn’t meant to waste one of my questions, but I’d forgotten all about the large black dogs until just now.
“That’s two. Declan has him in the guest house.”
Two questions left.
I studied his face. He looked more awake than before. He wasn’t even touching me, but I could feel the outline of his cock through my underwear.
I was stiff, and I knew he could tell; he just wasn’t commenting or reacting to it. Determined, I slid my hands to the back of his neck and fully settled on his lap, holding back a breath of air.
“Are you trying to seduce me?” he teased softly, finally placing his hands on my hips.
“I don’t know how,” I muttered. This was a stupid idea. I went to let go of his neck, but he stopped me.
“You don’t have to do anything special to make me want you.” He moved his hands to my ass and squeezed, forcing me to grind against him, showing me how hard he was. “Do you feel that? You do this every time you look at me.” He brought his mouth to the crook of my neck and gently bit down, continuing to make me move on top of him.
“Jesus, Mase.” I readjusted my grip, tilting my head to give him better access to my neck. His tongue moved in a circular pattern, traveling lower and lower.
“You still have two questions,” he reminded me, pushing his hips upward. I groaned as the fabric between us stimulated my clit.
He was trying to distract me, but it wasn’t going to work. Keeping one hand wrapped around him, I snaked the other between us, wiggling it beneath the waistband of his boxers so I could grip his hard length.
It was warm and pulsed in my hand; I squeezed it, hiding a grin when a grunt slipped from his mouth.
“How do you know my dad?” I asked in a breathy voice.
“He worked for me.”
“Doing what?” I asked without meaning to, wasting the last question.
“He used to bring me new girls, and then he promised me you.” With ease, he lifted me up and began tugging my underwear off.
“Mason,” I attempted to stop him, letting him go to push against his arms.
“You had four questions and got four answers. Now, you’re going to give me something I want.”
He was out from under me within a second, pushing me down on my stomach and spreading my legs apart. I should have foreseen this happening; Mason always dominated me during sex.
“Mason, wait! I just—” I cried out as he grabbed hold of my hips and forced his way inside me, not bothering to remove his boxers all the way.
My underwear was still around my ankles, forcing my legs to remain locked where they were, making the fit impossibly tighter. If I hadn’t been so wet, he would have hurt me.
He kept one hand on the back of my neck, forcing me to muffle my screams in the sheets. It was getting hard to breathe, but I couldn’t move with him crushing me the way he was.
My hands clenched the linen on either side of me. My ass jiggled; the mattress made a steady squeaking sound as he drove into me with hard, fast strokes. I felt myself contracting around him as he pushed me towards a harsh climax.
When he suddenly stopped and pulled out, I sucked in a lungful of air, suddenly finding myself on my back, staring up at him. He settled between my legs and eased himself back inside my pussy.
His strokes went from rough and hard to slow and gentle.
We were chest to chest; he had one hand tangled in the hair at the crown of my head, the other massaging my clit. His tongue licked away the tears that had started to spill down my face. I wasn’t sure where they had come from. My mind was spiraling, and at the core of everything was him.
“You’re so pretty when you cry,” he murmured in my ear, his warm breath skating down my neck.
I dug my nails into his back, spreading my legs as wide as I could to take all of him. I loved him being inside me, loved the way he didn’t take no for an answer.
I loved him.
I loved everything about him. The good and the bad.
And that scared me.
Chapter Forty-Six
I winced at the soreness between my thighs, grasping the banister like my life depended on it.
Every few seconds, I paused to listen for Mason—or anyone else who might be awake. I’d put on actual sleep pants and a tank top in case I ran into his father.
So far, the coast was clear.
My bare feet soundlessly moved over the cool marble floor. The house was so large that the quiet coupled with the darkness gave me chills.
I darted to the living room the second I was off the last stair, but once I got there, I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to be looking for. Nothing seemed out of place or appeared to have an answer.
Why did I just accept Declan’s word? Sighing, I scanned the pictures on the mantelpiece, pausing on one close to the end. Walking up to it, I saw what appeared to be a wedding photo. Carrying the golden frame to the sofa, I turned on the table lamp and sat down, holding the picture beneath the soft glow.
It was obvious the groom was Mason’s dad, which meant the pretty woman beside him was his mother.
There were things that stood out in the photo that immediately unsettled me more than anything I’d discovered thus far.
His father was older than his mom, which was clear to see. Her eyes held no happiness in them. In fact, the wedding as a whole looked off. That wasn’t the worst part, though.
No, the worst part about the photo was
that my parents stood off on one side with a few other guests, and a woman who looked identical to me stood on the other.
If I hadn’t been one hundred percent sure the photo was taken before I was born, I’d think I was staring at myself. She was smiling, looking carefree, like she belonged there.
“Find what you were looking for?” a smooth voice came from the doorway.
I jumped out of my skin, nearly dropping the picture frame. My stomach dipped as I locked eyes with Mason’s father.
Regardless of what anyone said, I knew the man didn’t like me. He had a hardness in his eyes every time he looked at me. When he walked into the room, it was the first time I noticed he had a slight limp. Declan said he was in the car when his wife drove it off the cliff; it wasn’t surprising he got hurt.
I went to stand up when he got too close for comfort; he gripped me by the shoulders and pushed me back down onto the sofa.
“No, no, no. I never said you could get up.” He clucked his tongue at me.
Fear bloomed in my heart; I didn’t want him anywhere near me.
“Her name was Dawson.” He pulled the picture from my hands and pointed to the woman who looked like me.
“I don’t remember much about her, other than your dad taking a strong interest.”
I began inching down the couch, attempting to move away from him. This time, he didn’t stop me. He waited until I stood and took two quick steps towards the doorway before speaking again.
“Your father raped her in my old barn. I guess you could say he got a little carried away, because…here you are.”
I turned back around and glared at him.
“My dad was not a—”
“That wasn’t the first time, sweetheart. He fucked up and let the girl get away. Your father is—sorry, was—a pathetic man.
“He’s dead?” I whispered.
“Ask Mason.” He shrugged, sitting the picture back where it came from. “It’s not my place to tell you.”
I turned around before he could see how badly his words were getting to me. Roy’s words swirled around my head. “You don’t know what kind of crazy motherfucker you’re dealing with.”
This family was sick; the games they played, the lives they took…
I just had just scratched the surface.
“I think you’re ready,” he commented, making his way back out of the room.
“Ready for what?”
“The truth.”
When I got back to the room, it was empty. Undeterred, I went straight to the closet and swapped my pajamas for regular clothes and a pair of black flats. I heard the bedroom door shut and knew it was Mason.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m leaving,” I told him flatly.
“Oh.” He nodded. “And where are you going?” He crossed his arms and looked to me, waiting for an answer.
“I’m going home, Mason.”
He looked thoughtful for a minute before responding. “I don’t like the idea of you being home alone. I’m more comfortable knowing you’re safe and not doing anything rash.”
What? What the hell was he talking about?
“I’ve been alone half my life, Mason, and I’m sure my mom will be around. I haven’t seen her in…”
How long had I been with him?
“Katie, you’re not making any sense. My father slit your mother’s throat the day you were born. And you’ve never been alone; I’ve always been watching,” he explained innocently, as if I should have known this all along.
Blinking slowly, I turned to face him, grasping for a response. I didn’t know if he was twisting his words again or telling me a solid truth.
If the woman in that picture was my mother, and his father killed her, then it made sense why Glenda despised me. I was the result of her husband’s disgusting aversions. Knowing exactly where my train of thought went, he continued.
“Glenda wasn’t able to have kids after Annie. You were supposed to be a little boy, by the way. That’s the only reason she agreed to take you in as her own. But I’ve been inside you, so I think we can both agree that things didn’t work out.”
“No one will ever want you.”
“The real world would destroy you; you’re weak.”
“It’s your fault he’s gone.”
“You ruined my life.”
Glenda’s condescending voice echoed in my head.
My father did the devil’s dirty work and I assumed he had paid the price. Nothing was as it seemed this entire time. No, that wasn’t true. Mason was. He was always the one constant.
“I heard your conversation with my dad. Figured now was as good a time as any.”
“You mean, you finally grew a pair of balls?”
He started to full-out laugh.
“Katie, if you were wise, you would see I’ve been protecting you all along.”
I have seen it. I let him continue, biting my inner cheek to refrain from grinning like an idiot.
“I want to go home,” I repeated quietly.
“When we’re together, you are home. You want to go back to the woman who was going to kill you for money?
“Search for a father that used you as collateral for a debt? I own everything that was ever theirs.” His green eyes bored into mine and he stalked towards me. “I own you, and I will never forfeit that right, so get the fuck over it.” He stopped, staring me down. “You’re the perfect puppet. No matter how hard I pull on your strings, you don’t break.”
I stared up at him, trying to hold a poker face like he often did.
“You’re not leav—”
“You’re right,” I cut him off, stepping forward and wrapping my arms around his waist. He stiffened, his entire body going taut. “I’m not ever going to leave you, Mason.” I squeezed him as hard as I could, willing him to hold me back. I knew he was confused, probably thought I was trying to get one over on him—none of that was true.
I felt more emotion regarding him saying that than I did about all these revelations about my freakshow of a family.
After a solid minute, his arms came around me and I felt the air expand in my chest, able to breathe again.
“You’re learning fast, Katie-Kat.”
I smiled against his chest. Of course, it wouldn’t take him long to figure out what I’d done. It was his fault, really. I’d figured out a way to get what I wanted.
Poking the dragon always seemed to get me the answers he held back. His obsession was my greatest strength and his only weakness. Being in this house swiftly taught me I’d need to play his game and assimilate if I ever wanted to get anywhere with him.
At the end of the day, despite our drastically different approaches, we both wanted the same thing. After all this, I was finally starting to realize that.
Chapter Forty-Seven
I kissed his dimpled cheek and dropped my head to his sweaty chest, keeping our hands intertwined.
“I don’t know if I want to punish you for toying with me, or fuck you again for pulling it off.” He massaged my scalp with his free hand, comfortably leaving me sprawled out on top of him.
“Both,” I yawned, laughing when he slapped my ass.
“I’ll never get tired of hearing that laugh, seeing your smile.”
He kissed my head, unwinding our hands to lift me away from his flaccid cock.
“Does that mean you won’t make me cry anymore?”
“I’m always going to make you cry. Your tears make my dick hard.”
What a typical Mason thing to say. Shaking my head, I rolled onto my back and stared up at the ceiling.
“How long are you going to gloat?” he grumbled like a little kid.
“How long are you going to pout?” I asked back, smiling to let him know I was joking. I didn’t know what would make him snap or what wouldn’t, but I was learning. I’d keep learning.
“Who was the driver of the blue car?”
I looked over at him, waiting to see if he would spin me another rid
dle or not.
“Declan,” he openly confessed, giving me a boyish grin.
“I didn’t trust your mother—Glenda—not to hurt you, so I sent him to keep an eye on you.”
I would definitely be discussing how creepy that was once I saw him again, and telling him I didn’t appreciate almost being run over.
The change in Mason was almost mind boggling. I knew he could be gentle, and I knew he made my heart break and smile within seconds of the other, but I didn’t know he could ever be this relaxed.
How could he be that worried about me trying to leave him? Rejecting him?
He was the only thing I ever had that was good—the only thing I could call mine.
But…if we were ever going to get anywhere, I needed to know everything.
“The house in the woods was Annie’s,” he added after a minute.
I had already assumed that. I fully believed Mason wouldn’t touch another woman and hadn’t touched another woman since being with me.
“Can you take me to her?”
Silence.
“Mase,” I used his new nickname, “I need to see her.”
He was silent for a few minutes longer before finally agreeing.
“I’ll take you to her.”
He was nervous about this.
No matter what I said, he had already decided in his mind that I would hate him for whatever he had done to her.
How bad could it be?
“She was never in the corridor,” I noted as he led me in the opposite direction.
“No, she wasn’t. I set you up to fail.”
“Mason, you’re such a romantic,” I deadpanned.
I think I actually preferred his twisted truths to his brutal upfront honesty.
“I’ll never be romantic, but I’ll always make you come. That has to count for something.”
We stopped outside a door at the opposite end of the house, and then we just stood there.
“Um…is it open?”
“Yeah.” A single word response, blunt and crisp.
Squeezing between him and the doorframe, I took a deep breath and turned the handle.
The room was empty—well, I suppose it was full if you counted everything dead inside of it. If I thought the room at his house was full of paintings and skulls, this was a whole other level.
Obscene: A Dahlia Saga Novel Page 14