My Father's Dirty Friend

by Ava Carpenter

  Before they can answer at all I see the woman’s eyes grow wide, staring at something over my shoulder, and at once she begins to straighten up and detach herself from the support of the man she clings too. Then I can smell it and before I even have a chance to turn around I hear his voice: “If it isn’t the Eyberg’s,” the voice calls.

  From my right, a body steps into this bubble in the flow of bodies the three of us have created. The man stands a little straighter himself, trying to measure up as he speaks. “Mason Lockwood, good to see you here,” he exclaims a little too loudly.

  My heart beats in my chest, I can’t even look at him.

  Instead, I stare at Mrs. Eyberg and recognize in her that her heart is thumping in her chest too and suddenly I feel a pang of jealousy that she is literally drooling on the spot at the sight of Mason. But my mind reels me back in, reminds me of Mason and his ways, of our past, his betrayal.

  “We’re talking about publishing, indeed? That’s something I never got into,” Mason says.

  I can see an expression growing over Mr Eyberg, too and he becomes fidgety, moving from one foot to the other, planning his escape I assume. He holds his wife a little tighter, a little too close, claiming his woman who continues to fawn over Mason like he is a piece of meat.

  “Well,” Mr. Eyberg says finally. “We must be going, we have to talk to several people before the hour. Stacy, Mason, always a pleasure.”

  With that he disappears into the crowd, trailing his wife behind him who seemed to be in the process of saying goodbye to Mason before being yanked away. Again a pang of jealousy slips into my being; a stupid feeling or not. But those feelings are quickly superseded by the realization that I am now standing beside Mason Lockwood once again, and neither of us are speaking. I continue to look straight ahead, pretending to be interested in some phantom spot in the crowd.

  Eventually, he speaks. “Publishing. I seem to remember you mentioning something about that before.”

  I chew on my lip, intent on not replying, even though I remember exactly when I mentioned my interest in publishing. I want to speak to him, I want to shout it at him, but I can’t, not here, maybe not ever. I mentioned it in your limo. When I first sucked your cock, Mason, you remember that? The words echo in my mind but I find that better than speaking them aloud.

  “Stacy,” he beings to say.

  I hold up my hand to stop him, still looking ahead, still afraid to bring my eyes to him once more, afraid of everything to do with our relationship. “You aren’t even meant to be here,” I say, loudly to make sure he can hear me. “If my father sees you here…”

  At once Mason steps in front of me, faces me, brings those dazzling eyes down onto mine. I allow myself to look into them for a few seconds before my gaze drifts. “Yes, I’ve been asked to leave. But let me worry about your father. Stace, can we talk?”

  “We aren’t talking anymore,” I tell him. “Even now, you can’t consider this talk because it isn’t. Now, leave me alone, Mason.”

  He shakes his head. “In private, Stace.”

  “There’s nowhere private here, Mason.”

  Slowly he points a direction through the crowd, “over there.”

  Before I can complain he takes me by the arm and I find my mind frozen by his audacity as he whisks us around the crowd and through a door into the side hall. The sound of the metal double doors clanging behind us reverberates down the service corridor and cuts off into a choked silence when Mason finally breaks to the side and rushes me into a small room.

  He closes the door behind him and turns to face me.

  “What the fuck,” I say, staring up at him with an intent to kill.

  “Stace,” he begins to say but I’m already trying to move past him, his stupid broad shoulders stopping me. “Stacy.”

  I realize my attempts to escape are fruitless and I stop trying to budge my way past his bulk. His eyes are wide, and he towers over me still so I take a step backward. “What is it, Mason?” I ask, my voice quiet and pathetic and muffled in this small room.

  “I just want to talk.”

  There is nothing I can do but roll my eyes before replying. “And like I told you, I don’t want to talk to you anymore. I’ve gotten over your spell, Mason Lockwood.”

  Mason takes a step closer to me and I find myself craning my neck even more to look up at him. He tries to speak, his lips starting to form words but I don’t let him, my mind adjusting to this situation, wanting to take the control.

  “No, fuck that,” I say sharply. “I do want to talk, I want to tell you what an asshole you’ve been, I can’t believe you used me like that, especially after all we’ve been through.”

  He says my name and places his hands on my shoulders and I consider trying to shake them off but his sudden touch, his grasp of my body overwhelms me and I remain quiet. “I didn’t use you, everything we’ve been together this weekend has been authentic—”

  “— my ass, Mason.”

  “— authentic, Stace. You think any of this is easy for me to say?” His lips curl into a half-hearted, crooked smile. “I’m Mason Lockwood after all, the womanizer; I have a reputation to uphold, you know?”

  The attempt at humor almost makes me laugh, but I catch myself and push against his chest with my open hands, instantly regretting the move now that I find myself pressing against his rock hard pectorals. “Mason, please,” is all I can say.

  His grip on my shoulders alters as he holds me tighter between his hands, looking down at me, and I can see a certain glimmer in his eye again, something I’ve noticed any time I have been in his presence.

  That way he looks at me…

  Mason takes a breath. “Stacy, I love you.”

  I stare blankly at him, expressionless, taking moments that must seem like years to him to formulate even the simplest of sentences. “You love me?” I ask. “And has this love got anything to do with my family’s business, Mason?”

  “No, Stace.”

  The feelings coursing through me still run red with anger and hearing his words just fuels it further, the notion of having being used still heavy on my mind, but that look in his eye and the tone of his voice contradict what I should be feeling but even though I know this I’m too angry to stop myself. “Why should I believe you, Mason?”

  “I mean it,” he says sternly. “You know me, Stace. Has there ever been a time where you’ve seen me say something and never mean it?”

  He is right, of course, all the times throughout the years where I heard him talking business with my father, the few times I saw him conduct business in a boardroom or two. But I’m not willing to admit this to him after all he has put me through, why should I?

  “All these feelings just happened to occur when you were here trying to buy out my family’s business, right?” I almost spit the words at him.

  “Yes,” he says. His words echo flatly in the rooms stuffy atmosphere. “These things can’t be controlled.”

  He’s right, of course… but there is no way I’m going to tell you that, Mason Lockwood. Had I been able to control myself during the course of this week? It takes two to tango, Stacy, and all that.

  Aware that my heart is racing I remove my hands from Mason’s chest and wring them together, thoughts and memories of the week — even further back, Stace — going through my mind like a blur. I had come to care for him recently, hadn’t I? But that wasn’t true either; it wasn’t recently, I had simply realized that I cared for Mason, or rather, come to admit it to myself. The belated admission from a repressed mindset.

  “Do you realize how much it hurts me that you used me? How worthless that makes me feel?” I say.

  Mason sighs. “Stacy, I’m telling you, I did not use you. I honestly care for you.”

  “Mason…” I trail off, staring into those eyes.

  He stands up straight. “Just listen to me. I love you, Stacy Bradley, and I need you. I want you.”

  The last word drifts from his mouth in a whisper, an e
xasperated exhalation at the end. I let my hurt feelings grow numb from their raw pain for just a moment and regard his demeanor. In my heart, I can tell his true intentions immediately from that profession of love, but it takes my brain some time to catch up.

  He does mean it…

  I’d been wrong and jumped to conclusions.

  But who could blame me? Suddenly I’m overwhelmed with the feeling of guilt, this whole thing was my mistake, I had let my own lack of self-confidence shadow Mason’s true intentions. And here he was, making an admission of his love for me, despite all of this.

  “Mason…”

  He brings a finger to my lips. “Stacy, I want to take care of you, and I want to be with you, always,” he speaks slowly as if I might misunderstand even one word. “I want you to be my wife.”

  It takes my brain time to translate all this into something I can work with, something I can understand at the most basic level. Adrenaline courses through my veins and I feel all my emotions begin to overflow the well deep within.

  “Mason… I love you, too,” I tell him.

  He takes me into his arms in a crushing hug that almost squeezes the life out of me but I’m thankful for it all the same. His body radiates with a warmth that makes me feel safe and happy and carefree. Gently he pulls me out of the caress, runs a hand through my hair, looks down at me thoughtfully.

  “Will you be my wife, Stace?” he asks.

  Tears stream from my eyes and I nod before blurting, “yes, yes I will.”

  “Good,” Mason beams the biggest, brightest smile I have ever seen him wear

  I wipe my eyes clean before my makeup becomes completely ruined. “But what about my father? How can we ever explain this to him? And he knows, already, too.”

  Mason simply shakes his head. “I’ve already talked to Thomas, Stace.”

  “You have?”

  He nods. “I cleared the air with him, I told him about us, so he would hear the facts. The family legacy lives on.”

  “He sold the business?” I ask incredulously.

  “All Thomas wants is to keep the business in the legacy, so in a roundabout way he’s getting what he always wanted, only now everything will work out much better for all parties involved. Everyone’s future.”

  All of this information processes. “I can’t believe it,” I say, “he really did sell the business.”

  “He sold it to us, Stace. It’s yours and mine. In my opinion, it’s in the safest hands it can be. You won’t have to worry about your future, anymore.”

  I laugh. “Oh great, now I own a hotel business I’ve been trying to get out of inheriting all my life.”

  Mason chuckles. “We’ll have people in our employ that will be doing that. No, you Stace will be too busy running your own business”

  I laugh, it’s all I can do to calm my nerves. “My own business?”

  “Sure, isn’t that what you want to get into? Well, whatever it is you want to try, by my guest, I’ll support your decision.”

  A million possibilities surge through my mind but only one stays the course. “I might have an idea or two,” I tell him with a smile.

  He motions around us with his hands. “Not the most romantic of proposal venues,” he says. “Sorry about that.”

  The ridiculousness of it makes me burst out in laughter and I have to clear the tears from my eyes again. “It’s rather charming,” I tell him. I motion to his head with one hand while I grab his tie with my other and pull him closer. “Only whats in here matters between us, Mason. Any location on Earth is just as good as another if we are there together.”

  I plant the smallest of kisses on his lips and the feeling of his flesh on mine in such an intimate manner sends pangs of joy coursing throughout my body. We break from the kiss but a moment of pure blissful heat locks us together until I can’t resist him anymore and I pull his head back down to press my lips against his. He tastes just as good as ever, our tongues caressing and teasing, our bodies desperate to match our mental connection with a physical one.

  We kiss long and deep, even while he fumbles with his pants and I hear the buckle of his belt open and the sound of his fly getting torn down. And then he lifts me and sets me on one of the tables behind us and his body is pushing against me.

  One of his hands is under my purple blouse, kneading my breast, fingers playing across my nipple — squeezing, pinching. His other is running along my inner thigh, the sensation, the anticipation causing great ripples of pleasure through my body.

  I spread my legs as his hand disappears under my pencil skirt. His fingertips glance across my mound as they hook under my panties and jerk them to one side. Our kiss breaks as he moves closer to me and I spread my arms out on the table to support my body, my legs up, wrapped tightly around his waist.

  He moans loudly as he reaches down to take hold of his cock and rubs it against my folds, causing me to bite my lip in response. Before I can even imagine it, he is pushing forward, moaning loud into the room as his cock slides into me. I stare him in the eyes as his big cock stretches me out, every inch of it inside me.

  Legs squeezed tightly around his torso, palms of my hands pushing against the tabletop for support as Mason begins to buck his hips, his cock sliding in and out of my soaked pussy again and again. I reach forward with my legs and wrap them around his back, holding on as tight as I can as he ravages me.

  Our moans are loud and carnal, madly uncaring if anyone can hear us. Mason buries his face in my neck and his probing lips send shivers through my spine that I can feel even in my nether. I bite on his ear and it only makes him pound me harder as he takes me on this table.

  The intense rhythm sends my body into overdrive and I can’t bear any more pleasure and when I hear him moan my name into my ear as he comes inside me I let myself go as well, sinking my teeth into his neck to stop myself from screaming the room down in sheer ecstasy.

  “I love you, Mason,” I whisper.

  Chapter 14

  Stacy

  As the elevator doors slide slowly closed and my view of the penthouse anteroom disappears an odd feeling washes over me. It feels something like serenity mixed with nostalgia, and maybe a certain dose of closure, too.

  I stand in silence beside my bags as the car rumbles quietly during the descent. Earlier this morning I had already cleared out my own room but had to make this stop at Mason’s penthouse to pick up a few items of clothing left behind last night. It feels like I’ve been running these little errands all over the hotel the entire morning, but I glance at the clock above the elevator door and find it surprisingly not even ten o’clock yet.

  Closure…

  I take a deep breath. That is really what it feels like, what it is. I can feel the descent I’m making in the elevator car, the floor beneath my feet rumbling, my body rumbling both outside and in. Ever since last night, my mind has been trying to come to terms with the changes that are coming. All very good changes, to be sure, but all very scary at the same time.

  I lose so much track of time thinking the ding of the elevator bell scares me and I almost drop the bag I’m carrying. The door opens into the lobby but I find myself rooted to the spot, gazing out past all the people moving around toward the main doors beyond. At one point in my life those doors always looked so far away but now they seem but nothing more than a few steps.

  The elevator doors grind to a halt when I lean into them to stop them from closing. I swing my bag out deftly and pull the cart with my other cases through the gap before the doors slide shut again.

  Here we go, Stace.

  I lumber halfway across the lobby before I need to stop and adjust the strap on my bag. One of the bellboys spots my trouble immediately and is at my side in a blink, offering assistance. He’s one of the new kids, so I don’t even think he knows who I am, who my father is. I thank him but turn down his offer and secure the bag around my shoulder a little more carefully.

  The lobby seems just as big as it used to when I ran around it as
a young child, and even though there have been numerous alterations to the layout and decor since those times it still looks and feels the same. Those same weird feelings return but I remind myself that it’s not like I won’t be returning to the hotel anytime soon; it’s going to still be here for a long time coming, and Mason and I will be the people in charge.

  Mason…

  So much has changed since I returned here, a broke, down on the dumps twenty-something that needed to return to her parents and ask for help. But I had done it, and they hadn’t spoiled me, and more importantly, they hadn’t looked down on me for it and for that now I am thankful. And even now, my father especially, is proud of me, that I’m keeping the family business intact. How ironic that turned out to be… in charge of the very business I didn’t want a part of. Though, it’s not like I’m going to have to be involved in the daily running of this place, anyhow.

  But damn, Stacy — what a change…

  The feelings Mason and I have for each other had finally blossomed and been acted upon, and now I’m set to marry him and we are to spend our lives together — it all feels like a dream. Even now as I stand in the lobby, glancing around amid the flow of people around me, the atmosphere is that of a dreamy nonchalantness.

  With this quiet peacefulness in my mind, I cross the rest of the foyer and through the main doors that are kindly held open for me. Outside the city is awake and bustling. I breathe the cool air and it feels invigorating.

  After a few moments, the black limo pulls up right on time and the driver gets out, comes around and tries to take my bags. “I have this,” I tell him.

  He smiles, shakes his head. “I have this now, Ms. Bradley,” he says politely before wrestling the bag from my shoulder and the cart handle from my hand. “If you don’t mind,” he says.

  I can only smile, this is something I’m going to have to get used to now that I’m marrying a billionaire. I watch as the driver struggles down the steps with my things and I find myself really fighting the urge to help him.