by Aubrey Cara
He pulled into the garage, powering it shut after he'd parked. Walking around he opened Mimi's door for her and helped her out, only to push her up against the side of the jeep. He could take her right here. He'd always loved the garage. The smell of metal and oil. It was so dirty and she was so clean.
Sunshine and roses.
The idea of stripping her down and making her get wild and dirty against his jeep was growing on him as he covered her mouth with his. His tongue exploring and dancing with hers.
Mimi moaned low in her throat, her hands fisting in the front of his shirt to draw him closer even though he was as close as he could get.
He was about to tear off her shirt, his fingers already teasing the soft skin of her belly when he heard the dogs whine on the other side of the door leading to the garage. He knew Mimi heard them too because she whimpered in regret. Like an answering call the dogs crying grew louder as they snuffled and scratched at the door.
“We better go let your dogs out.”
“They're pathetic. They're just being dramatic.”
Mimi pushed him away when he would have lingered but he took her hand not willing to relinquish all contact with her as he led her in the house.
“I guess it's time for you to meet my girls, Daisy and Jenny,” he said, opening the door to two happy dogs. He shooed them through the kitchen to the back door as they danced around his and Mimi's legs. Daisy almost knocked Mimi over in her enthusiasm and Mason wondered how they'd be with Zeke. They were good with his housekeeper's kids but they were teenagers, nearly adults.
“You named your dog after a girl you dated in high school?” Looking at him incredulously, but there was a teasing light in her eyes she couldn't hide.
“You mean Jenny Walker?” he asked, recalling Mimi had mentioned Jenny being the reason she'd turned him down for prom. “We went to one dance together. It was hardly a date. Definitely not dating,” he said with exaggerated exasperation as he teased her back. “And Jenny—my Jenny—is named after Forrest Gump's girlfriend. Jen-nay,” he said doing his impression of Forrest Gump, making Mimi giggle.
Jenny, his golden retriever, sat at his feet and cocked her head expectantly, thinking he was talking to her. This made Mimi laugh all the more. Her giggle was throaty and cute. It reminded him of the way she chuckled and moaned simultaneously when he kissed and nibbled the curve of her belly that was ticklish. He stifled a groan as the powerful erection of earlier made itself known by pressing against the front of his jeans.
“Make yourself comfortable.” He couldn't help his eyes wandering over her, from her glossy brown hair to the tips of her shoes hiding her dainty feet. He hoped he'd come back to find her naked, spread out on the couch. He knew that was unlikely but a man could still dream. “Come on girls,” he said trying not to walk weirdly as his erection led the way to the back door. His boxer briefs were proving inadequate protection against his pants zipper rubbing up against his mighty Mr. Man.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Mimi looked around Mason's living room a bit surprised by how warm and cozy his home was. From the outside design, and from Mason's office at Coleman Automotive, Mimi had expected something more retro post modern, and masculine. What she got was overstuffed cream colored sofas. Dark hardwood floors. Plush area rugs. Lamps that gave the room a warm glow. Plenty of exposed brick and aged wood made up the walls, along with book shelves.
The interior of Mason's house reminded Mimi of a cabin. A very high end comfy cabin retreat with a gourmet kitchen. The countertops of his kitchen probably cost more than what she had saved up for a down payment on a house. Mimi ran her fingers over a throw blanket that lay carelessly balled in the corner of the sofa. Cashmere.
Mimi sighed as she released the decadent material. The blanket and the couch wouldn't last a day around Zeke. Neither would half the pricey knick-knacks on all the side tables and lower shelves, artfully arranged in front of books.
This was the home of a very wealthy, very single man. This was the home of her boss. It had been easy to forget Mason Coleman was both those things. He'd somehow become Mason. The man that had an easy camaraderie with her son. The man that took them out for pizza, babysat, and held her on her couch while she cried. And in her bed after he'd made love to her.
He'd broken through her defenses and become just an average everyday man. The kind she could see settling down with. But he wasn't.
She looked around and wondered what she'd been thinking. Mason wasn't an average everyday guy. He was a powerful and privileged business man. His home may be understated, but it didn't hide the fact that he was from a different world than her own. Besides building Coleman Automotive, he was from money. A lot of money.
Like Jay.
The unconscious comparison made her uncomfortable and she tried to recall all the ways they were different. Mason was not Jay, she reminded herself. With Jay, there had been no forgetting wealth and status. He'd been sent to prep schools and raised to remember he was better than everyone else. He had been casually elegant, to inelegantly snobbish.
Mason didn't wear his status nearly the same way. Mason was refined. A gentleman. Yet he was also relaxed and grounded in a way that made him friendly and open.
Although Mason wasn't completely open. He had a part of himself he hid so well she hadn't even known it existed. Mimi thought back to the drive over here. Mason usually wore a stoic mask. She thought of it as his poker face. He wore it often while at work. It was a look that drove her crazy because she couldn't read him. Normally not one emotion would cross his handsome face.
Earlier, on the drive over, she could read him loud and clear. He was hiding the pain of losing his family. At Christmas.
Her heart broke a bit for him. She'd gotten choked up and had to blink back tears, like she was now just thinking about it. She knew they would be unappreciated and possibly make him feel guilty for opening up. Stupid man.
Still, she couldn't stop thinking about the pain he must have suffered and was still living every day. She realized for the first time how truly lonely he had to be. His family was gone and he kept the family he had at arm’s length because they reminded him of what he'd lost.
A part of her wanted to fill that void. Not to fix him, but to heal him. Make him whole. He said he wanted to be a part of her life and she wondered if that meant he was okay with her being a part of his. And there was a difference.
Jay had been a part of her life, but she'd never been a part of his.
Feeling eyes on her, she looked up and realized Mason stood in the wide doorway. He wore the same charged look he'd shot her in the car when he'd said, I know how you are going to make it up to me.
Earlier it seemed like a distraction, a change of subject. Whether for himself or for her she wasn't sure. She didn't care either way. She loved when he looked at her that way. Like she was the most desirable thing he'd ever seen. Like he had a list of dirty things he wanted to do to her and was thinking about each and every one of them. Maybe that was just wishful thinking on her part.
“I didn't see you standing there,” she said unable to move, trapped in his penetrating gray gaze.
“I told you to make yourself comfortable, Miriam.”
Like Pavlov’s dog knowing it was about to be fed her body flushed, her pulse instantly beating faster. She loved it even more when he added an authoritative bite to his voice. It rumbled through her and awakened each and every nerve ending. She was pretty sure he was aware of it. Used it to his advantage like he was trying to infiltrate all of her defenses until she had none left. She'd work up the angst to resent that if it didn't turn her on so much.
“How would you like me to make myself comfortable, Mr. Coleman? I aim to please you, sir.” Yes, she knew how to play this game and was very willing.
His lips twitched like he was fighting a grin. Not a sweet grin, but the kind a wolf has before devouring a meal.
Arms crossed, he leaned up against the wall, scratching his chin as if in contemplation.
The pose should have been casual but she could see his muscles were tense. An enigmatic energy fairly radiated off him. “The shirt, Ms. Westfall. It should probably come off.”
“What if I get cold?”
“The shirt, Miriam,” he said ignoring her question. Playful Mason was gone, replaced by an intense man she didn't quite recognize.
A chill stole through her. Part fear of uncertainty, part arousal. Button by button, Mimi opened her shirt, holding his gaze until the fabric whispered down her arms. Her eyes naturally closed at the sensation of silky material sliding off her body. Goosebumps sprang up in its wake, her nipples beading to hard, aching points of awareness.
“The bra now.”
She unclasped her bra, letting it fall to the floor and had to fight covering herself from his scrutinizing gaze. She recalled feeling the same standing in the corner of his office. She realized he liked this. Making her feel exposed. A bit intimidated. Vulnerable. The knowledge filled her with arousal, and she felt the power shift.
He may be in command but she was the only store in town that carried what he needed.
“Pants,” he said simply.
She toed off her shoes. Undoing her zipper she hooked her thumbs in the waistband of her pants and panties, ready to drag them both down her legs when he said, “Stop.”
Like a marionette, she froze, pants and panties halfway down her thighs. Air kissing her bottom.
“Leave the panties on. Those are mine to take off you.”
A flush swept through her chest at his words. She wasn't sure why that affected her so but it did. With shaky hands she raised her panties back to position before she slid her jeans down her legs and stepped out of them.
Nipples pebbled, the crotch of her panties damp, covered in goosebumps she stood there as he looked his fill. She tried to relax her hands at her sides and not squirm under his gaze.
Slowly he pushed off the wall. His walk was deceptively casual. His muscles looked tight. Coiled. His stance controlled, like a panther about to pounce on his prey. Her.
He circled her, leaning in behind her like he was breathing her in, but not touching her. A gentle finger skimmed along the peach lace material of her panties.
“These are fancy, Miriam,” he said softly from behind her. She could feel his gaze on her. Could imagine his eyes tracing the same exposed cheeks of her ass his fingers were skimming over.
“Who were you thinking about when you bought these panties?”
She tried to recall when she'd bought them. Her thoughts were already muddled. “I-I wasn't thinking of anyone. I just wanted to feel sexy,” she said honestly if not a bit weakly.
The sudden pulling and tearing of fabric against her skin made her gasp. Mason ripped the waistband of both sides of her lacy thong. Holding a fistful of material in the front and back he pulled up, grinding it against her core until she went up on tiptoes. He relaxed his grip, catching her with the strong band of his arm around her waist when she would have stumbled forward.
“Do I make you feel sexy, Miriam?” At her nod he continued, “I've decided,” he said, his face pressed against her neck. “I want to be the only thing that makes you feel sexy from now on. If a scrap of material makes you feel sexy it's because you bought it thinking of me. You'll only wear panties you bought while thinking about me.”
Her spine stiffened a little. That was the most arrogant, pigheaded dictate she'd ever heard. Yet she knew she'd never buy underwear and not think of him ever again. Dammit.
“Do you need to be reminded who's in charge, Ms.Westfall?” he asked, obviously aware her hackles had been raised at his outrageous demand.
“No,” she said, a bit petulantly.
“Go to the kitchen.” With that he pulled the torn cloth forward. Lace scraped against her beaded clit making her squeak.
Mimi walked on shaky legs to the large kitchen, glancing at Mason over her shoulder, wondering what he had in store for her. He gave nothing away, but his gaze seemed to have taken on a decidedly wolfish gleam.
She stopped once in the kitchen. The tile was cool under her bare feet. The lights were on low, the dark wood cabinets making the room look even darker. Mason crowded her into the wide island in the center of the room. She gasped against the cool feel of granite under her belly as he pressed her forward, reaching around her.
He opened a drawer and rooted around before he seemed to find what he was searching for. Standing behind her he held a flat rubber headed spatula up, seemingly for her inspection. The handle was wooden and the wide head was a sunny yellow.
“Open up.”
“What?”
“Your mouth. Open it.”
Dutifully she opened her mouth and bit down on the long flat wooden handle of the spatula.
“Up you go,” he said.
She almost dropped the spatula from her mouth when strong hands gripped her waist, lifting her onto the island. She slid her knees under herself on the cold counter top, and he pushed her forward, forcing her to catch herself with her hands.
On all fours, with her ass in the air, she was perched precariously on the island with her lower legs sticking out off the end. She had only a second to wonder what the hell Mason's intentions were before she felt his hot wet mouth on her equally wet sex. Moans were pulled from her throat as he licked, nibbled, and bit at delicate flesh. The scruff of his day's growth of beard scrapped along her delicate inner thighs.
Higher and higher she climbed, as he lapped at her folds, teasing her clit with flicks of his wicked tongue. Never giving her the direct contact she craved. She reached back to hold his face to her pussy, right where she needed him most.
He pulled back, his hand slapping down on her raised ass cheek with stinging force.
She cried out around the spatula in her mouth, her teeth clamping down. If it didn't have her teeth marks forever embedded in it before, it did now.
“Are you in charge?” he asked, his voice coming out in a harsh growl.
When she only whimpered in response he slapped down twice on the other cheek of her ass just as hard, making her squeal out in protest.
“Are you in charge?” he asked. His voice cutting through the air like a drill sergeant.
“Nuh-uh,” she muttered around the spatula, vigorously shaking her head.
“Do you want me to make you come?”
She nodded her head looking back at Mason imploring with her eyes to let her come.
He ran a finger down her thigh. Kissing her rump before giving her a hard bite. The sensation made her eyes roll back on a groan. “Beg,” he said.
She whimpered in frustration.
He chuckled. The sound rumbled through his chest and sounded slightly evil. He reached out and took the spatula from her mouth. “Beg.”
Licking her lips she said, “Please may I come?” Her voice came out shaky and slightly hoarse.
In response to her query he pushed two broad fingers into her slowly, letting her feel the delicious stretch before starting the in and out drag. “You're so hot and wet, sunshine. And tight. So damn tight. Do you know how good you're going to feel stretched over my cock?”
She moaned as her core clenched down on his fingers at his words. A bead of her arousal ran down the back of her thigh.
“Oh, angel, I think you're excited,” he said, his wicked tongue trailing up her thigh, licking away her juices. His fingers pumped inside her faster. The blood roared in her ears. The sound only broken by her own little cries and the wet sounds of her sex. Her body tightened, so close to breaking and going over.
He pulled his fingers free of her. She screamed as her channel clenched on air, not reaching completion. “Please, please, please,” she begged in real desperation. “Please, Mason. May I come? Please make me come?”
“You want me to make you come?” he asked. His casual tone betrayed only by his quick breathing.
“Please. Please.”
“Do you want me to fuck you, Mimi?”
“Yes-yes, pl
ease fuck me.”
“Do you want me to fuck you here,” he asked pushing his fingers into her pussy. “Or here?”
his fingers pulled out to press against her sensitive bottom hole. She cried out. Genuine discomfort mixed with pleasure. She wasn't sure if she could take him there so soon, but she knew her answer was important. The air around Mason fairly crackled with intense energy. If she pushed him he would push back and punish her for testing him.
With two fingers in her bottom, his other hand was deceptively gently as it skimmed over her ass and thighs. She felt a barely leashed violence in Mason she'd never felt before. He ran a tongue along her slit, sucking in her clit. The sensation rocked through her body. Just as quickly as his mouth was on her it was gone. She whimpered at the loss.
“Where do you want my cock, Miriam? How do you want me to make you come?”
She looked back at him over her shoulder. “Anywhere you want. Anyway you want,” she said looking him straight in the eye, so he would know she meant it with every fiber of her being. Because she needed to say it. Because he needed to hear it.
“That's right,” he growled. He pulled her down off the counter, only to push her forward to lay along the cool slab. Fist in her hair he asked, “Do you know why? Do you know why I can have you any way I want you?”
“Because I'm yours,” she said. Her voice breaking at the end as he brought the spatula down on her bottom, hard.
“Because you're mine,” he said, swinging the spatula down again with stinging force. “Count,” he commanded as the spatula lit up her ass again.
“Wu-wu-one,” she stuttered. Smack. “Tt-two. Ahhh!” she screamed as the rubber met flesh. Smack, smack. Again and again, one side, then the other, he spanked her as she counted it out all the way to twenty. After twenty the strikes rained down over her bottom as her legs kicked out. She gasped for breath as tears tracked down her face. She held onto the counter in a white knuckle grip to keep from reaching her hands back. Her ass pulsed with heat.