To her chagrin he didn't answer, but stood stock still, his arms crossed, staring at her intently.
"Mason! Answer me."
"Are you sure you want me to?" he asked, lowering his voice.
"Of course I'm sure."
"Because you've been waiting for me to do that all day. Tell me I'm wrong."
"Fuck."
"Did you just say fuck?"
"Yes, and now I need a hug."
Dropping the spoon on the table, he brought her into his arms. The elephant in the room had finally been dealt with, and after dinner, as they curled up on the couch in front of the fire with the spring storm raging outside, they kissed and cuddled and talked about their lives. Mary was surprised to discover Mason had been raised on a small farm.
"I used to draw skyscrapers and cars. My parents resigned themselves. They knew I'd be leaving. I have no idea where it came from. When the drug store had a magazine featuring anything to do with cities and business I had to have it. When I landed a scholarship for college they literally wept. Both of them. They were so proud. I was thrilled of course, but when I applied I felt sure I'd get in. It was as if my path had been chosen for me."
"That's an amazing story. Where do you think you inherited that gift?"
"My mother told me her grandfather was one of the first people to import goods from the Far East. He was very successful. Mom and pop are wonderful people. Honest and good-hearted. I help support them now, and if the farm needs something I jump in. I have an older brother who has my dad's love of farming, but it held absolutely no appeal for me."
"That's so interesting. My father was a doctor, and my sister got her love of science and medicine from him, but my mother was an artist. I inherited my creativity from her."
"Do you paint?"
"I do, but it's easier to make a living as a writer. Not that making ends meet as author is easy, no way, but I found it impossible as an artist."
"And I take it your parents are no longer with us?"
"No," she said, fighting the wave of sadness that always rose up when she talked about their demise. "They were killed in that freak F4 tornado we had. The destruction was unbelievable."
"I remember. I'm so sorry," he murmured, holding her tightly. "I can't even imagine how difficult that must have been."
"My sister was a rock. She's as tough as old boots. They left enough for her to finish her education, and I was able to buy this little house and pursue my dreams."
"Becoming a famous novelist?"
"Yep."
"Will you tell me about what you write?"
"They're about, you know…"
Between kissing and cuddling, they talked about their mutual passion for the darker side of passion, but she remained hesitant about discussing her novels. As he broke from a particularly fervent kiss, he let out a sigh and smiled down at her.
"Mary, if we do that again I'll do one of two things. I'll either pick you up and carry you into your bedroom, or I'll leave. I know what I want to do. What about you?"
"I, uh, think it's the same thing, but…"
"But you're worried it's too soon?" he asked softly. "Just say the word and I'll take off."
"I would love you to stay, but yeah, that's going through my head."
"Look at it like this. What time did I get here?"
"Around noon."
"And now it's almost ten o'clock. That's ten hours. If you and I had done the normal dating thing, this would have been our fifth date."
"How do you figure?"
"Usually an evening out is around two hours, so ten hours is five dates, and they would probably have happened over the course of a couple of weeks, maybe longer. It's not too soon. We just made up the time we lost in the beginning."
"I like the way you think," she said with a grin, then lowering her voice, she added. "I've never been carried into my bedroom, or any bedroom for that matter."
"That's a crime, and it's also hard to believe."
"It's the truth."
"In that case, I don't want you to move from this spot. I need to nip out to my car for a moment."
"Your car?"
"To fetch a condom."
"You have them in your car?"
"Why are you so shocked?"
"I, uh…"
"Would you prefer I didn't have them?"
"I don't know what to think about you having condoms in your car."
"Let me explain something. There are three kinds of men in this world. First, there are the doers. That's me. I'm a doer. A doer looks ahead. A doer doesn't say, I wish I had a condom handy. He has one handy. The second is the wishful thinker. He knows what he wants, but he often doesn't get there. He's either looking over his shoulder or second guessing himself. He'd say something to himself like—Should I put condoms in the car? What if someone finds them? Maybe that's weird."
"Sort of what like I just did."
"But we're both glad I have them, right?"
"Yeah," she giggled. "That's true."
"Then there's the loser. The shoulda, coulda, woulda guy. I don't think I need to explain his mindset, but he's the guy that can't control his impulses and gets the girl pregnant."
"It seems to me a real doer would have a condom in his pocket. Why leave it in the car?"
"Why did you have to say that?"
"Because it's obvious."
"I do have one in my pocket, a couple in fact," he said sheepishly, "but I have something else in my car, but I couldn't put it in my pocket, and it's not something I could walk through the door holding. I was using the condom as an excuse."
"You didn't have to tell me any of that."
"Of course I did. I don't want you thinking I'm a half-doer."
"I wouldn't think that even for a second," she laughed. "You go get whatever it is you left behind, and I promise to stay right here."
"No."
"NO?"
"Change of plan. I'm carrying you into your bedroom, then, Mary, before I leave for my car, I'll be giving you an instruction."
"I just figured out why men do this," she said, her butterflies fluttering as he lifted her up and she curled her arms around his neck. "After what you just said my legs wouldn't work."
It was a short trip down the hall, and laying her down, he gently moved her hair from her neck, sucked in her skin, then moved his lips to her ear.
"Turn out the lights, then wait for me naked with your arms above your head, your legs apart, and a scarf over your eyes. Any questions?"
"No."
She'd squeaked out her response, and kissing her softly, he returned to the living room.
"Come Pete, time for a quick walk."
Always excited when he heard the word walk, though he'd been sleeping in front of the fire, Pete jumped to his feet. Slipping on his leash, Mason stepped outside. The rain had stopped, and the nippy air was bracing. As he started down the block, he thought about Mary lying naked on her bed waiting for him. She was a woman who had touched his heart like no other woman ever had.
It had been two years since Mary had been at the mercy of a dominant, and she'd learned to live with the dull, aching need. As she had followed Mason's instructions, a hot tremble had ripped through her body. Waiting naked on the bed, when she heard the front door closing, she felt the goosebumps pop on her skin, and her heart thud in her chest.
"Is it you, Mason," she whispered, wishing her heart would stop its frantic beating, "or is it because it's been so long?"
A moment later she heard him enter the room, and barely breathing, she listened to the rustle of his clothes as he stripped.
"You look beautiful," he said softly, gently removing the scarf from her eyes. "Now I want you to open your eyes."
Bewildered, she did as he said. To her dismay, he'd turned the lights on, and he was still dressed. The rustling she'd heard was a plastic bag in his hand. Feeling vulnerable and exposed, she quickly reached for the bedspread to cover herself.
"I don't understand," sh
e said softly. "Have you changed your mind?"
"I'm going to reach in here and take something out. You mustn't be frightened. I'm only doing this to make a point."
"Mason, please, this is very weird."
"I know, but it matters," he said gravely, reaching into the bag and pulling out a gun.
"What are you doing? Why do you have that?"
"Don't worry, it's plastic. It's a water pistol. Here, take it."
Even more confused she took it from him. It looked real, but as he'd promised, it was a toy.
"I'm not your boyfriend, I'm not your keeper, I'm not your anything, but I meant what I said earlier. Mary, I like you very much."
"Please tell me what this is all about?"
"Who am I?"
"You're Mason."
"Do you know where I live or my last name?"
"Uh…no, but we had that deal."
"All you have is my telephone number, but that could be history in seconds. I told you to lay naked in a dark room with your eyes covered and wait for me. I could have been a psycho, and that water pistol could have been a real gun. Do you understand how reckless you've been?"
"I didn't even think about it," she whispered, staring at the water pistol in her hand. "Not even for a second."
"Did anyone know you were having company tonight?"
"My sister."
"Did you tell her you'd check in with her? Does she know anything about me?"
"No, but…Mason, why are you doing this now? Everything was so perfect."
"Because the last few days I've been reminded that sometimes people are not who they appear to be. You're a sweet, beautiful woman, but you're far too trusting. I could have been Jack the Ripper."
"Not with a dog like Pete."
"This is serious!"
"Sorry. I was just trying to lighten things up."
"I know, but there's nothing to make light of here. Regardless of what happens between us, you must promise never to put yourself at risk like this again. Make sure your sister knows if someone is coming over. Arrange an innocuous code word, and make it clear she's going to call to check in. When she does, if you're in trouble, you can say it and she'll coming running with the police in tow."
"I'm totally embarrassed," she murmured, dropping her eyes and placing the pistol on the nightstand. "You're absolutely right, but I wish you'd saved this lecture for later."
"Until after we'd made love?"
"Uh-huh."
"I could have, but I knew doing it now would have more impact."
"I don't know what to say."
"Say you'll promise to be much more careful in future."
"I promise. I feel really stupid."
"You're not stupid, and we all do stupid things," he said, softening his voice. "Honestly, Mary, if certain things hadn't happened this last week, I might not have done this, but they brought home to me just how duplicitous people can be. None of us can be as trusting as we would like."
"I do have a tendency to leap before looking."
Sitting on the edge of the bed, he brought her into his arms.
"When I left my house to come here I had a feeling you might throw caution to the wind. That's why I brought that toy with me. I'm a doer, remember? I'm always looking ahead."
Naked in his hold, though she was suffering from the sting of his reprimand, the full impact of what he'd said began to wash through her. He genuinely cared about her, and pulling back, she stared up at his handsome face.
"Thank you so much, Mason. My dad used to say it's what people do that matters, not what they say. I've never truly understood the truth of those words until this minute."
"Now I'm going to tell you who I am. My full name is—"
"No!" she said hastily, placing a finger against his lips. "Not yet. Whatever your name is, or why you're famous, I don't care. Maybe I will when I find out, but I don't want anything to interfere with the rest of the night. Please, Mason, or whatever your name is, please will you make love to me?"
"Nothing would make me happier, but I'm not going to blindfold you or tie you up. You need to be able to see me and what I'm doing. For your head it's better, but I am going to turn out this light. Don't worry though, I brought a candle."
CHAPTER TWELVE
In the candle's flickering light, Mary watched Mason peel his clothes off his ripped body, then slide a condom over his engorged cock. As he stretched out next to her, she ran her fingertips over his muscled arms.
"You must work out to have a physique like this."
"It's how I relieve stress. Fortunately I can exercise at home."
"That explains it. You're so strong."
"And you're so beautiful," he murmured, traveling his lips across her shoulder and down to her breasts.
He began lapping at her nipples, then hungrily drew them in, sucking like a hungry vampire. She moaned, raising her chest to meet his mouth, and as his fingers feathered across her pussy, she squirmed, desperate for a firmer touch. He not only denied her, but moved his palm to stroke her inner thigh as he tongued his way up to her neck. She whimpered her pleasure, but when he took hold of her wrists and pinned them over her head, she let out a cry. Staring down at her, he grinned for a moment, then lowered his lips on hers in a crushing, demanding kiss.
He wanted to utterly devour her. She smelled like sugar and cinnamon, her body quivered under his touch, and her utterances of pleasure were driving him crazy. His cock was resting between her thighs, and almost of its own accord it searched out her sex. Snaking inside her wet depths, he slid his tongue into her mouth, but as he began to stroke, he broke their kiss. Raising himself up, he moved his hands to her waist and sat back on his haunches. He had no desire to rush, and with slow, strong strokes he hammered her warm, wet grotto.
"You feel amazing," she breathed, "You're…you're…filling me."
Her ardent words sent fresh energy to his loins, and thrusting with gusto, he tilted slightly forward so his cock would brush against her clit. When she began gasping, and her cries grew in pitch and volume, he knew her orgasm was building. To her groans of disappointment he carefully withdrew, then taking hold of her ankles he flipped her on to her stomach, but before he could clutch her hips to pull her up, she scrambled on to her hands and knees. Gazing at her milky-white virgin cheeks, a devilish smile curled the edges of his mouth. Sliding back inside her, he held himself still as he smoothed his hand over her curves. He heard a gasp. She was waiting for the first smack.
"How long has it been since this beautiful bottom was spanked?"
"Forever," she squeaked.
"How long?"
"Two years."
"Poor thing, but you know what you have to do if you want the drought to end."
"Please, Mason, will you spank me?"
He immediately landed the first slap. She yelped. It had been hot and hard.
"More?"
"Yes, please, more, please."
"How much more, Mary?"
"As much as you want to give me."
"Are you sure about that?"
"Yes, yes, please."
"Say orange if it becomes too much."
His spanking hand delivered a volley of fiery smacks, and she quickly found herself consumed by the stinging heat. Burying her head in the pillow, she was about to let out a loud wail when he abruptly stopped, dug his fingers into her waist, and resumed his vigorous stroking.
"Rub yourself," he ordered, his voice husky. "Rub yourself and come."
Moving her fingers against her sex, she searched out her clit and began the urgent massage. Only seconds passed before a powerful orgasm gushed through her body.
Watching her writhe through her spasms, Mason continued to thrust, but with measured strokes, determined not to climax so he could bring her to a second release. When her cries had waned, he gradually accelerated, relishing the glorious feel of her soaked, throbbing sex. He could feel his moment looming, but refused to surrender, slowing until it passed, then increasing hi
s pace, continuing the pattern until his manhood was at its bursting point.
Dropping a hand into her pussy, he searched out her magic nub and forcefully rubbed. She began moaning, begging him not to stop. As he sensed her drawing near, he pulled his hand away to grasp her waist. She cried out in disappointment, but as he resumed his fervent thrusting, she threw back her head and sucked in her breath. She was on the edge, and quickening his pace he drove them into an explosive release.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Her head was resting on his chest. The tiny hairs were tickling her nose, and his heart was thumping against her ear. The sound was strong and reassuring, and as she let out a long contented sigh, his arm tightened around her. The sex had been thrilling, he had been masterful and controlling, yet loving and tender. His fingers had sparked her skin, and the spanking…the spanking had been stunning.
"Mason?"
"Mmmm."
"Will you stay?"
"Why would I go anywhere?"
"I, uh, wasn't sure."
Shifting back, but still holding her, he locked her eyes.
"Is that what usually happens?"
"Last time."
"Last time you were with someone?"
"My last boyfriend. He always left. It wasn't good."
"Is this a dominant we're talking about?"
"Uh-huh."
"He left every time? Not just in the beginning?"
"Every time," she said, her brow creasing. "In the beginning I get it, but…"
Mason felt his blood boil.
"I wouldn't do that to you. Never, and I'm sorry that happened."
"I was glad when he stopped calling," she said with a weary sigh, "and thank you for saying that."
"I hope I didn't give you any reason to think I'm going to leap out of bed and drive away."
"No, I just wanted…"
"To be sure?"
"I guess."
"You don't have to worry. I'm not going anywhere," he murmured, and as she buried her head back into his shoulder, a thought floated through his head. "I imagine being a novelist would be isolating."
"It can be."
"It's you and your computer. You don't interact with people the way you would if you worked in an office."
TYCOON_His Money. His Harley. His Control. Page 8