by Willa Thorne
Elyse laughed. “I was just going to ask if you have plans tonight, but spill.”
“I actually do have plans. Well, Mason made plans. He’s keeping everything a secret.”
“Oh, intriguing. Tell me more. I have maybe three minutes left before I have to get back to work.”
“I got home from work and there was a white box with a message. He bought me a perfect dress and said he is going to pick me up at seven, but he won’t tell me what we are doing.” I clutched my phone as I continued to grin like a foolish girl.
“That’s so sweet. Does he have a brother?” She joked.
“No, but he does have a cousin.”
“That’s hilarious,” Elyse retorted drily. “But no. Just no.”
I never understood her problem with Jackson. Sure, there was that strange moment with that waitress on the night of his club opening, but he has always been so kind and considerate. He’s at times a little aloof and enigmatic but I can’t hold that against him.
“I don’t understand why you-” I began, but Elyse interrupted me.
“Shit. My time is up. Call me with all the details tomorrow or I’ll harass the shit out of you.” She teased with a hurried pace in her voice. “I’m just kidding. Actually, I’m not. I have to go though.” She ended the call as I heard her supervisor snapping her name in the background.
I had twenty minutes left to get ready, and I smiled when Elyse snuck an added text message when her supervisor wasn’t watching.
Elyse: Details, woman!
I laughed as I read the message and then I did something I had never done before because I used to be too insecure: I snapped a cell phone picture of myself and sent it to Elyse.
Her reaction was priceless. My phone chimed almost instantly.
Elyse: !!
Elyse: love the dress! Call me tomorrow!
~~~~
As he promised, Mason arrived in the foyer of his penthouse promptly at seven that evening. I had just slipped the red Louboutins on my feet when the elevator chimed, signaling his arrival. I stared at my reflection in the full-length mirror one last time and took a deep breath. I had attempted to tame my waves with a curling iron and the red lip gloss matched the color of my heels. When I looked at myself, I didn’t see hips that were too round or imperfections of my body. I felt stunning, loved, and my heart fluttered within my ribcage as I wondered what surprise Mason had planned for us.
I left the bedroom and found him standing in the foyer. My steps slowed to a pause when I saw him standing there.
Is this man really mine?
I blinked as I did a double-take. He must have gotten ready at the office because there wasn’t a single wrinkle in that suit. He stood just outside the elevator, wearing an Italian black suit and a matching tie. It complimented his thick, raven colored hair and his face was cleanly shaven. The crisp white button down beneath his black suit jacket contrasted beautifully with his olive complexion. If my heart was palpitating earlier, it was now doing somersaults within my chest. I drank in the sight of him, feeling the black lace beneath my dress already become damp. I took a deep breath as a last effort to calm my growing need for this incredible, beautiful man.
His wolfish grin was enough to create a dull ache between my thighs … and he held a huge bouquet of roses, lilies, lisianthus, and sweet pea as he waited for me.
Wow.
“Hello gorgeous,” his grin never ceased. His light brown eyes raked over every curve of my body. He was blatant in his admiration and took several moments to admire me in the dress he chose. I watched his eyes travel up my bare legs, up the curve of my hips, and settle on the low dip of my cleavage. His eyes flared ravenously as he lustfully appreciated the way the dress dipped, and accentuated my breasts.
With another smile, he held the flowers out to me. With a deep blush, I took the bouquet from his hand, overcome by his presence, and the gigantic display of flowers. The sense of deja vu never left me.
His gaze on me was hungry, but his eyes glittered with such tenderness and devotion. He took the flowers from my hands, set them on the marble table in the foyer, and gripped my arms tightly. The fresh, clean scent of his cologne enveloped my senses. His lips met mine in a fierce, searing kiss. It was enough to suck the breath from my lungs as he held my body tightly against his muscled frame. His embrace was all-consuming. His teeth nibbled on my top lip, then tugged on my lower lip. His tongue entered my mouth with such command, but I couldn’t resist sucking. My tongue caressed his as I sucked on it. He responded with a sharp hiss, and after several moments, he gently pulled away.
“Bloody hell, Jillian.” His breathing became ragged. “If you keep that up, we won’t make it out the door.”
I looked up at him and batted my lashes with an impish smile. “I just wanted to give you a taste of what I can do to your cock.”
His sucked in a sharp breath from shock, and approval at my choice of wording. “Why, Ms. Pryor… I know very well what you can do to my cock.” His eyes glimmered darkly. I noted how the pulse in his neck hammered away, indicating that he was close to losing his control and-
“Come along, before I botch my plans and pin you down on the closest surface available.” He gently grabbed my arm and hurriedly guided me through the door of the penthouse.
With each step, I felt the deja vu grow stronger. The entire scene reminded me strongly of Mason’s first attempt at an outing. I was still confined to the terms of his contract at the time. His text message, my black Dior dress, the bouquet of flowers... Everything about this evening reminded me of that evening, that dreadful evening. I don’t think about that night, and we don’t talk about it. That night was less than a year ago, but it still feels like another lifetime.
When we arrived at the curb, Mason’s silver Benz was waiting and Rick was nowhere in sight. I looked up at him with a questioning expression as he opened the car door for me, and he only smirked. This is all strangely identical…
Our trip to Madison Avenue was silent, aside from Mason’s occasional cursing under his breath. He rarely drove in the city, and the Manhattan traffic tested his patience. With each fancy restaurant that we neared, I wondered if this was the special destination. But still, he continued driving. After we passed the third possible destination, the curiosity was killing me.
When he pulled up to the curbside service in front of Carlito’s, my heart did a double leap within my chest. The crimson color was displayed on my face and indicated all of my emotions.
“What is this?” I blurted stupidly as he opened the door for me.
“This is a restaurant.” He answered simply and I wanted to kiss that grin off his face.
“You know what I mean,” I answered, nearly breathless.
I never mentioned this to Mason, but I hated the memory of Carlito’s. I had been so crushed that night when he brought me here; I was so sure he was going to ask me to be his girlfriend, and instead he proposed that we extend the terms of the contract, claiming he didn’t do relationships. He tried to bribe me with a fancy, meaningless bracelet. I was frustrated and angry, and wished I had been more assertive in what I wanted at the time. He ended that evening getting drunk in his study, while I cried myself to sleep. But like I said, that was another lifetime, with a different man.
“Are you ready?” Mason’s grin snapped me from my thoughts. He seemed unusually excited as he smoothly caressed my back.
I nodded and then gave a smile. With his hand on my lower back, he guided me into the exclusive and luxurious restaurant, and we were immediately seated at the same table as we were the last time. I wanted to push the memories of our first date night as far away from my mind as possible.
I looked around at the elite patrons, and then turned back to Mason. His large hands reached across the table and cupped over my small hands. His eyes remained hungry as he stared at me from across the table. An energy radiated through my fingertips from his touch, and traveled down my spine, straight to the area between my thighs. I fi
dgeted slightly in my chair.
I smiled with a flame to my cheeks. I was pretty sure I knew what he was doing…
He ordered a bottle of white wine, of which I cannot pronounce, but this time it sounded vaguely familiar and I assumed it was the same type of wine he ordered the last time.
I glanced at the menu, which was all written in Italian. The menu options were not explained in English so I asked him to clarify the menu.
“What are you in the mood for?” He finally asked. “Did you like the entree you chose the last time?” I didn’t want to think about our first date, which was in this very restaurant.
The pasta I selected that evening was delicious, but I barely remembered how it tasted, because I left the restaurant so upset.
Mason looked at me keenly. “Would you like to try it again?” He asked this just as the waiter returned to take our orders. The wine was poured into crystal glasses and the menu specials were recited.
“We’ll both have the Strangozzi al Tartufo Nero, with a side of breadsticks.”
“Very good, sir.” The waiter nodded and then left our table.
I sipped from the wine glass, but Mason seemed too fixated on me to enjoy his wine. He looked at me somewhat nervously, and with concern in his eyes.
A soft Italian melody floated through the cozy, dimly lit dining room. The tables were spaced out appropriately so that each couple dining received a fair level of privacy in such a romantic setting. The three candles on our table were ruby in color and added to the delicate ambience of the evening romance. A gorgeous view of Madison Square Gardens was just below us, and the city lights added sparkle to the scene.
I took another sip of wine, and Mason’s hands returned to their position over mine on the table. They were warm and strong over my cool fingertips.
“What are you thinking?” He asked in a low tone. This was more of a command than a request.
I smiled and dipped my gaze ever so slightly.
“Jillian.”
“I’m just thinking…” I lifted my eyes to meet his. “I was just wondering why you chose this restaurant, of all the dining places in New York City?”
There was not an ounce of complaint in my question. I was purely curious. There are so many luxurious, beautiful places to eat in this city, but he brought us back to a place that holds negative memories. Why?
Mason exhaled, and his brow furrowed into a trace of a frown. “I brought you here because you deserve better than that night.”
Oh. I felt my face flame hot. Thoughts whirled around in my mind, but I listened as he continued. His hands never left mine, and his gaze never left mine as he spoke.
“I was a bloody fool for ending the evening the way I did. That evening, I brought you here with the idea of trying a relationship. But I got cold feet at the last minute. There is a light about you, and I was terrified. I opted for the safe route- avoidance.”
I pursed my lips as he explained the disaster of our first date.
“While I was in London, I struggled with sleep. I thought about that night many times and I have known for a while that I wanted to make that up to you. I won’t have our first real date stained with that memory forever.”
I was left speechless for a few minutes as our gazes remained locked. “You are trying to do our first date over?” A small smile curled up my lips.
“Yes, as it should have gone, as I had originally planned it.”
A slight smirk was on his handsome face. “I know I’ve done things backwards. We’re already engaged, and here I am, trying to redo our first night out. As I like to say, ‘better late than never.’”
I snickered. “You don’t ever say that. You hate tardiness.”
Mason laughed, and it was enough to catch the attention of a few nearby patrons. We glanced toward their smug, dirty expressions, and then returned our focus to each other.
He lifted a single black eyebrow, and his gaze turned wolfish. “So there you have it, darling.”
His words touched me. I know he loves me, and it was a struggle tearing down the walls he’d placed around his heart. But hearing him say this… I melted.
“I’m not good at this romance fluff, but..” he reached into the inside pocket of his black suit jacket and produced a navy square box.
More jewelry? I remembered the dazzling bracelet he tried to give me during our first time here. I sucked on my lower lip as I lifted the lid of the box. Nestled inside, on a bed of blue velvet, was a tiny pair of white gold keys. They were very tiny, perhaps no bigger than the nail of my thumb. They resembled the keys Mason had given me, the ones that unlocked the door to his third floor on West 87th Street. I looked up at him with a question on my face, but I couldn’t help but smile.
His grin was flawless as he took the box from my hand. “You hold all the keys, my love.”
For a man who claimed he didn’t do romance fluff very well, he deserved a standing ovation. I was absolutely speechless, and I watched him take the key charms from the box and delicately secure them on the white gold bracelet that held our initials. He turned my wrist upright, and never removed his eyes from mine as he planted a soft, sensuous kiss on the skin of my palm. Heat coiled within my core, and tingles traveled through the nerve endings in my body. The dull ache beneath my very damp panties was increasing to a throb by this point.
Our food arrived, but it didn’t break the intense sexual energy between us. Our glasses were refilled with wine before the waiter was dismissed, and we ate in silence. The pasta was absolutely delicious, but I wasn’t hungry for food…
“You better eat. You’re going to need your energy.” The look in Mason’s eyes was positively feral. He never removed his eyes from mine, even as he sipped from his wine glass.
I felt the breath escape my lungs from that simple statement. “What do you have planned?”
His lips quirked into a grin. “You’ll see.”
Our meal ended, and with each passing minute, I felt the sexual energy increase between us. Mason was quiet behind the wheel, and from the passenger seat, I could see the knot return in his jaw. The lights of the city illuminated the inside of the car and I could see how he clenched the steering wheel. His knuckles were white. There are only two times when this man has that knot in his jaw, and white knuckles. Either he was angry about something, or he was anxious to have me bent over a surface. I’m thinking it’s the latter. I thought this quietly to myself, and I couldn’t resist reaching my hand over. My fingers gripped his muscular thigh and I reveled in how the knot in his jaw tightened more. It was like pushing a button. My hand crept further, teasing, taunting. I ran my tongue over my lips as I tried to play coy. His brow lifted and his nostrils flared as he tried to remain controlled behind the wheel. Ever so slowly, I trailed my fingers from his thigh over to the restrained bulge in his expensive black slacks.
Just as my fingers brushed over his growing erection, he grabbed my hand in one swift movement. His fingers wrapped around my wrist and he held it mid-air.
“What do you think you’re doing, darling?” He asked with authority in his tone.
“I want to play,” I answered sweetly.
“You’re playing with fire, sweetheart.” His eyes blazed as he flipped on the right blinker and eventually made a turn.
“Whatever do you mean?” I feigned innocence.
“You know exactly what I mean, and if you continue this behavior, I’m going to have to botch my plans for the evening.”
I was intrigued, and my hand wavered. He had already let my hand go, and I debated whether I wanted to continue my devilish game, or see what else he originally had planned for us.
Time’s up. Mason was absolutely silent as he pulled to a stop in front of his apartment on West 87th Street.
He shut off the engine, and wasted no time in exiting the car. With a giant stride in his step, he rounded the vehicle and opened the door for me.
He took my hand, and guided me up the steps to the brownstone building. There was a
fierceness in his grip on my hand, and in the wild gaze he gave me. It was enough to cause a flutter in my stomach.
The automatic lights flicked on as we entered the front hall.
“I had a very romantic evening planned for us, but due to your behavior in the car, I will have to … improvise a bit.”
I pursed my lips as he took my chin between his thumb and forefinger and forced my gaze upon his. There was an intense hunger in his eyes. His expression alone commanded an answer.
“Yes, sir.” I breathed as ripples of pleasurable anticipation flowed through my nerves.
“Good girl. Now, go upstairs and wait for me. Hands behind your back, knelt over the foot of the bed.”
“Yes, sir.” I answered immediately, and his eyes glinted with approval. His dominant demeanor had returned, and my panties were already soaked.
I ascended the wooden steps up to the third floor and retrieved the overly fancy keychain from my clutch. My hands trembled slightly from the adrenaline that coursed through my veins. I managed to slip the key into the knob and the door opened without a single sound. I flipped on the light. I’ve been in this room quite a few times, and I’m still breathless every time I enter. It’s been weeks since I have been here, though. My eyes absorbed the view. Mason wasted no expense when designing the floor of this apartment. I noticed a large, full-length mirror now took up one side of the wall adjacent to the bed. I sucked in a sharp breath as I envisioned the purpose of this large mirror.
I remembered his instructions and I positioned myself over the foot of the bed. I considered whether I should remove my dress, but he said nothing about the dress and he is usually very precise in his orders. I kept myself fully clothed and remained in position. I clasped my hands over my back as he instructed. I hoped he wouldn’t take too long, because this could become uncomfortable…
The wait is always a delicious torment. I have learned that it is intertwined with the anticipation, which fuels the arousal. Ten minutes passed. I did my best to keep my hands behind my back, but I had to give my arms a rest after a while.