"Yes."
"Yes? I assume you mean yes you have one."
"Uh-huh."
"Pete's looking forward to seeing you, Mary."
"Me too, I mean, I can't wait to see him. Bye, Mason."
"Bye, Mary."
Ending the call, he dropped the phone on his nightstand, then pushed back the bedcovers and wrapped his hand around his cock. She had been funny and flirtatious, then he'd gotten the better of her and she'd loved it. He'd almost been able to hear her fluttering butterflies when he'd asked if she had a wooden spoon.
"Maybe I will grab you the minute I walk in," he murmured as he stroked himself. "I don't have to plan. The look in your eyes will tell me exactly what to do."
With images of the sassy girl over his knee, her bottom naked and the slaps of his hand turning it a bright red, he brought himself to the edge of his climax several times before surrendering to an intense and satisfying orgasm.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Sitting in her chair by the fire Mary willed her heart to stop racing. As their conversation had progressed, Mason's voice had taken on a husky tone that had made her stomach flip, and when he'd asked if she had a wooden spoon, her brain had turned to mush.
"You are the sexiest man alive," she said softly. "What am I going to say when you walk in the door? For that matter, what will you say? Will you jump my bones? This has to be the best first date ever. Is it a date? Yeah, it's a first date. Good grief. I'd better get a grip before he arrives, and there's only one way to do that."
Moving into her bedroom, she stripped off, laid on her bed, and spreading her legs she placed her fingers against her pussy. She was ridiculously wet, and closing her eyes she began to rub. Visions of Mason stepping into her foyer dressed in his leathers flooded her mind. He gripped her arm and gazed into her eyes, then traced her mouth with his fingertips. She knew it was a tease, that he was making her wait, and she was loving every second. As he slowly leaned in and lightly kissed her, she felt her knees buckle, and his strong arm around her was the only reason she wasn't melting into a puddle on the floor.
She stilled her hand and opened her eyes. Her orgasm was building, but she wanted to wait. Taking a breath, she counted slowly to three, then sent her fingers back to work.
This time he was naked and towering over her. His muscles were bulging, and his eyes were filled with hunger. Lowering his lips to her nipples, he touched between her legs and abruptly thrust his finger inside her.
"Not wet enough. You're going to be spanked for that."
Suddenly catapulted into her release, she gasped as the sensations rippled through her body. Its onset had been abrupt and violent, but the delicious spasms waned as quickly as they had begun. She was panting, her heart was thumping, and her limbs were filled with divine pins and needles. Rolling on her side and reaching for her extra pillow, she cuddled it against her.
"My God, Mason. All this from some phone calls? What's going to happen if we actually have sex? Wait…what do I mean if?"
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
A short while later, standing in his garage, Mason stared at his three automobiles trying to decide which to take. The Porsche, the Bentley convertible, or the Mercedes sedan. The promised rain had yet to materialize, and he was almost tempted to jump on his Harley, but staring up at the sky he knew it was only a matter of time.
"Why is this such a big deal?" he muttered. "So I drive up in an expensive car. My Harley wasn't exactly cheap."
But he knew why. He wanted Mary to like him regardless of his status. It mattered. It mattered a great deal.
"I could take a taxi I guess, but that's a hassle. Screw it. I'll take the Porsche. Come on, Pete, let's go."
As he opened the passenger door, Pete jumped into the seat. Walking swiftly around the sleek black sports car, Mason climbed behind the wheel and backed out of his spotless garage. He was wearing cowboy boots, faded denim jeans, and a black V-neck cashmere sweater. He'd ordered the takeaway from his favorite Thai restaurant, and the food was ready when he ran inside to collect it. As he placed the plastic bags behind his seat, Pete sniffed the air and licked his lips.
"I know, it smells great, but it's not for you pal. Hmmm, should I knock on the door carrying all that stuff, or have my hands free? I swear, I'm seventeen and about to see the cutest girl on cheerleading squad."
Revving up the car's powerful engine, he headed through the city, and was soon turning into Mary's modest street, rolling to a stop outside her house. Clipping Pete's leash on his collar, as Mason climbed out, the little dog jumped over the center console and followed. Marching up the path, Mason searched for the first words to say.
Hello, Mary. Good to see you. You look great.
They were inane, but before he'd even lifted his hand to knock, the door opened.
"Don't say anything, not before you do one thing for me," Mary said urgently. "Will you give me a hug?"
Moving quickly inside he dropped Pete's leash, and kicking the door shut with the back of his foot, he pulled her into his arms.
CHAPTER TEN
As she melted into Mason's strong hold, Mary let out a long, grateful sigh. Not only had he done what she'd asked, she'd found the courage to make the request.
When she'd heard the car pull to a stop, she'd peeked through her curtains. The tall, well-built man climbing from the gleaming Porsche was even more attractive than she remembered. He'd cut his hair, and though he was wearing a sweater, his muscled body was evident. She was a nobody, a struggling romance author trying to catch a break, and here was this gorgeous, sexy man stepping out of an expensive sports car. Suddenly the pretty pink dress and ballet slippers had seemed incredibly boring, and the thought of standing in the doorway searching for a clever greeting had felt impossible. That's when she'd realized what she wanted—what she needed—was a hug. A warm, reassuring hug.
Mason too, was grateful. Nothing he could have said or done could have been more perfect. Inhaling the floral fragrance of her hair, and relishing the feel of her yielding body sinking into his, he closed his eyes and tightened his hold. Regardless of what might happen between them, it was a moment he never wanted to forget. In spite of all his analyzing, it was Mary who got it right.
"Thank you," she said softly as they broke apart. "You have no idea how badly I needed that."
"I think I do," he murmured, staring into her milk-chocolate eyes.
"I still feel a bit awkward, but nothing like I did a minute ago."
She could feel a connection, and she sensed he did too, but a sudden spate of barking broke the intimate moment.
"Popcorn," she exclaimed, crouching down and making a fuss of him. "I'm so sorry. I need to hug you as well."
"I'll go back to the car and fetch our lunch," Mason offered. "I hope you like Thai."
"I love Thai," she replied happily. "Come on, Pete. I have Mr. Tiger. Do you remember him?"
"Apparently he does," Mason chuckled as Pete began spinning around in excited circles.
As he watched Pete bound after Mary into the living room, he thought she looked like a spray of the coming spring brightening the rainy day. Her feminine pink dress showed off her figure, but in a subtle, sexy way, and she had a knock-out pair of legs. Feeling on top of the world, he headed out to his car. She had felt sublime in his arms, and he understood why he'd been edgy about seeing her. Instinctively he'd known she was someone special. Carefully retrieving the plastic bags, he walked back up the path, and found himself hoping she'd feel comfortable enough to tell him about her books. The front door was still open, and walking inside he pushed it closed with his foot.
"Honey, I'm home," he joked, not seeing her or Pete as he entered the living room.
"We're in the kitchen."
As he walked through the living room, he could see she'd made an effort to impress him. The fire was flaming, a cinnamon incense stick was burning on the mantle, and the small dining table by the window boasted a pale blue cloth with matching napkins rolle
d up inside wooden animal holders. "Here you are," he declared, entering the kitchen and placing the bags on the counter. "There are a few different dishes, and both brown and white rice."
"There's enough here to host a dinner party. My gosh, Mason, thank you."
"Where's the wooden spoon?" he asked, unable to suppress a wicked grin.
"Where's the soup you need it for?"
Opening one of the bags, he withdrew a large plastic tub.
"Here you go! Tom Kah Gai."
"Why do you need a wooden spoon rather than stainless steel?"
"I don't, but it could come in handy if a naughty girl should show up."
"I can't believe you said that!"
"Of course you can. You were brave enough to ask for a hug. It was my turn."
Mary forced herself to stay where she was as he slowly moved closer. The energy in the air was sparking, and she was aching to be back in his arms.
"Would you like something to drink," she asked softly. "Coffee, tea, or…?"
"No," he replied, standing directly in front of her. "The only thing I want right now is to hold you again."
She ached to say, yes please, but her stomach was doing cartwheels, and she could barely breathe, let alone speak.
"But first…" he murmured, moving his hands into her hair, "I need to do this."
He was leaning in, and as her heart leapt in her chest, her eyes closed, and his lips brushed against hers.
Warm and gentle, yet hungry and urgent, his unforgettable kiss launched the deep need in her submissive soul. Her body was falling limp, and as he tenderly released her hair, he moved his arms around her and wrapped her up. The tiny chest hairs peeking over the v-neck collar tickled her cheek, and she could hear the drumming of his heart. How many thousands of words had she penned depicting such a moment? She finally understood why she'd never been satisfied by what she'd written. How could she describe something so mind-numbingly indescribable?
"I think I should send my former dog walker a very large gift basket," he said huskily. "I owe her big time."
"I owe her too. I don't ever want this hug to end."
Having no desire to break apart, they stayed locked together, their limbs entwined, letting the seconds turn into minutes. Finally returning his fingers to her hair, he gently tugged her head back.
"I was almost feeling asleep," she sighed, looking into his crystalline blue eyes. "I think that is the best hug I've ever had."
"Me too."
She could feel his hardness pressing against her, and was tempted to suggest they move to her bedroom, but she was worried it was too soon. As if reading her mind, he slowly dropped his arms.
"Mary, Mary, you have taken my breath away."
"That was unexpected. What you just said, I mean. Most guys don't come out with things like that."
"I'm not most guys."
"No, that's been evident for some time," she said softly. "Should I put this food out now?"
"Sure. I brought something for Pete."
"I still have his bowl."
"He loves that tiger," Mason remarked, casting his eyes across to his dog in the throes of trying to pull an ear off the stuffed toy.
"It was his favorite when he was here. He used to keep it with him when we went to bed."
"You let him sleep with you?"
"Of course," she said, retrieving dinner plates from the cupboard. "He needed to know he was safe and loved. We all need to feel that way."
As he watched her dish out the hot, spicy food, Marion's words rang in his ears.
You have to find your special someone, Mason.
Like a bolt from the blue he realized she'd been right. He did want to find that special someone. A woman whose warm body would lie next to his every night, a woman to share his fears and triumphs, a woman who would make him laugh out loud, and touch his heart with just a look.
"Mason? Are you okay?"
"What? Yes, yes, fine."
"You were a million miles away. Are you worried about your friend?"
"Not really. He's doing well."
"I'm so relieved for you. It's very difficult when someone we care about is unexpectedly hit by something like that. I'm done," she declared. "Do you want anything else?"
"That looks perfect, and this is for Pete," he said, retrieving a baggie from one of the takeaway bags.
As she dropped the kibble into Pete's bowl and set it on the floor, Mason picked up their plates and carried them through to the table.
"This looks terrific," she exclaimed as she sat opposite him. "Thanks so much for bringing it over. Oops, I forgot to put out the soup."
"You just didn't want to give me that spoon."
"Stop it."
"Nope."
"You are incorrigible."
"I hope so."
Mary laughed out loud. He was funny and absolutely gorgeous. And the kiss! It had been positively toe-curling. She wanted more. She wanted to be naked with him, she wanted his hand spanking her backside, she wanted…
"Penny?"
"Excuse me?"
"A penny for your thoughts."
"It'll cost you a lot more than a penny, mister."
"Name your price."
"I'd rather not say," she grinned, wishing she could stop the infuriating blush crawling inexorably across her cheeks.
"Not say the price, or not say what you were thinking—what you're still thinking?"
"What I'm still thinking."
"Go on, give it a try. You can fetch your sunglasses if it would help."
"Maybe I should."
"Be brave. Take a deep breath and spit it out."
"I was thinking how much I'm enjoying your company, and…"
"And?"
"And that kiss," she breathed, dropping her eyes. "You are a seriously good kisser."
"That's because I had a seriously good kissee," he said smiling, then lowering his voice he added, "There are plenty more where that came from, but only if you're a good girl."
"See, I was right, you are incorrigible."
"I didn't say I wasn't."
"I was also thinking how much I like your hair. You cut it."
"I would never cut my own hair. I'd end up looking like a scarecrow."
"Very funny. It looked good long, but I think I like it better this way. It makes you look—not older exactly—more mature. It's manly. The other style was boyish."
"Thanks, I think."
"It was a compliment. I like it a lot."
A thunderous roar suddenly rolled overhead, and a crack of lightening lit up the sky. As the rain began splashing against the window, Mason stared out at the weather for a moment, then looked back at her.
"Can I tell you what I like?"
"Please do."
"You. I like you, Mary Austen. I like you a lot."
His proclamation had been made quietly, but his eyes had been filled with an earnest sincerity. He reached across the table for her hand, and as his fingers curled around hers, she felt his touch across her entire body.
"I don't say things I don't mean," he continued, "and I don't play games. I have neither the time nor the patience. I would very much like to spend the entire day with you, and the evening if you're not bored with me by then. Will you do that for me, Mary? Will you spend the day with me?"
Feeling as if she was living a dream, she slowly nodded her head.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
While Mary and Mason were enjoying their lunch, across town in the basement garage of Mason's building, George was sitting on the top step where Marjorie had tripped.
He was sweating bullets.
When he'd heard the police were investigating the cause of Edward Cochrin's heart attack, the cold hand of fear had clutched his heart. That's when he'd remembered the small plastic insert he'd been forced to leave behind.
Marjorie had tumbled down the steps just as he'd planned, but before racing to her aid, he'd quickly removed the trip wire. He'd also taken out the screw in t
he concrete, but the plastic receptacle wouldn't budge. As the days had gone by he'd decided it didn't matter. Even if it was discovered, so what? There could be any number of reasons for its presence.
Now everything had changed.
In spite of the reassurances from Meeks, George was scared. If the police discovered Cochrin had been poisoned they'd search for the motive. Meeks had a shady past, and he'd aggressively pursued the Melville property. If the authorities dug, they'd uncover the property's history. That could spell trouble. Meeks had Mason's final offer in his hands, ensuring Meeks would win, but George didn't know if that would help, or hurt. He'd been telling himself Marjorie's fall couldn't be traced to him, but his paranoia had only escalated. He'd finally decided he had to find a way to remove the tiny plastic canister embedded in the concrete wall. He'd been unable to handle the damn thing wearing gloves, and his prints were on it.
But it was gone.
The timing was terrifying.
Someone had returned to the scene and found it.
Obviously that someone suspected foul play.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck," George groaned, staring at the innocent looking hole. "I'm screwed. I'm completely screwed. The moment the police take me in for questioning, God knows what Meeks will do. Fuck. This is bad. This is so fucking bad. I need to bolt. That's exactly what I need to do. I need to get the hell outta Dodge."
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Mary and Mason spent an idyllic day watching a 1960s classic film they both loved. The original Thomas Crown Affair. They argued about the ending as they'd played with Pete, his antics making Mary laugh so hard her stomach hurt. As the dinner hour neared, Mason decreed they would enjoy the soup, which was virtually a meal in itself. Mary poured it into a bowl, and while she was placing it in the microwave, he spied a wooden spoon in a large copper container near the stove. Lifting it out he walked up behind her, and when she'd placed the bowl safely in the oven, he landed a solid swat.
"What the hell?" she exclaimed, blushing beet red and spinning around to face him. "Why did you do that?"
TYCOON_His Money. His Harley. His Control. Page 7