by Anya Summers
That way she could show her family back home that she wasn’t a screw up, that her dreams weren’t unrealistic just because they didn’t understand them.
And as for Mason, she’d ignore the ache in her chest and stop hoping for something more when there obviously wouldn’t be.
She might have to stock up on more snack cakes though, if she was going to be around him all the time. Crave him but never be able to quench her hunger for him.
Mason spent the bulk of his morning on the phone with distributors, ordering supplies and paying on the accounts that they could. It was progress in bringing them back from the brink of collapse. And he combed through the two proposals Emily had left him.
The proposals were excellent. Thorough. And written in a way so he could easily visualize how things could be.
Not that he expected anything less than excellence from her. Emily was a fascinating dichotomy. All soft Suzy homemaker one minute, with culinary delights that would make angels weep, then, the next minute, she displayed a whip smart intelligence with a head for business. If Mason was honest with himself, she might even be smarter than he, a thought which both intimidated and aroused him beyond measure. And then, as if that were not enough, she swiveled on a dime into a seductress with soft lips and a wicked gleam glittering in her hazel depths. Her siren’s call beckoning him to forget his duties to the lodge and indulge—in her.
He’d been harsh with her when she’d stopped by his house that morning. He realized that. Except, he had overheard her words to his brother. It had taken him by surprise, the vicious grip of pain that had lanced through his chest at her words. That she could walk away from the blistering, electric chemistry between them—as if she were changing a light bulb and could walk away—had left him spinning.
He’d been resolute about keeping his hands off her. Putting the lodge above his own wants and desires. At least, until she’d mentioned staying on at the lodge past the trial period and truly building a life here. Wheels had shuddered to life in his brain at the possibility. It had gotten him thinking long term. That, if she was going to be his partner and not his employee, it would change the dynamics of their working relationship. It gave her a stake in the productivity and leveled the playing field between them. Hell, all he’d been doing lately was re-evaluating the choices he had made in his life. Because the here for a good time Mason had withered and died in the aftermath of Claire’s deception.
The way Claire had betrayed him and the lodge made him unable to trust what he felt for Emily. That his feelings for her were too fast, too quick for him to consider that he wanted more than just a night or two at the club. When he looked at Emily, he wanted more, wanted to hear her throaty laugh when he made it home in the evening. Wanted to wake up again with her cuddled at his side. Wanted to feel the tight clasp of her silken sheath milking him, drawing him deeper inside until all he could see was her.
Mason knew he’d promised Cole he wouldn’t touch her again.
Yet he didn’t know if it was a promise he could keep. Not when every fiber of his being proclaimed that Emily was the one for him. But he wouldn’t say anything to Cole until he and Emily had discussed things.
Frustration dominated his footsteps as he marched the distance from his office to the restaurant. He and Emily needed to talk.
And not just about the proposals.
He’d blundered his way through their relationship. The overwhelming, nearly eviscerating need he felt for her had clouded his perception. Mason had done what he’d always warned other Doms against, he had acted out of fear because of the betrayal he’d experienced. Condemning Emily for another’s actions. He’d been wrong in his treatment of her and he planned to apologize, for starters.
He wasn’t necessarily comfortable with his feelings for Emily. He only knew that they ran deep, deeper than any he’d had before. Christ, he wanted more. He wanted all of her, every facet. Mason yearned to be the one to introduce her fully to the lifestyle, to train her, and show her the wicked delights of the flesh and rewards of being a submissive. His submissive, permanently.
She was open and responsive, calling forth a possessive streak he hadn’t known he had inside him. Because until Emily, there’d never been a sub, a woman, he’d felt deep in the marrow of his bones belonged to him.
And he was to blame for his treatment of her. From day one, he’d been more than a bit of an ass. Emily hadn’t deserved any of it. Hell, her proposals might just be the ticket the lodge needed to scrape back into the black.
The dining room was nearly empty when he entered. It was mid-afternoon, well after the heat of the lunch rush, and far too early yet for dinner guests.
He strode in through the kitchen door and was bombarded by delicious aromas. They wafted over him. His mouth watered and his stomach growled, reminding him that he’d not stopped for lunch.
Christ, the woman could cook.
He’d expected to find her at a more sedate pace this time of day. However, Mason discovered Emily amidst a flurry of activity. There was a smear of flour across the bridge of her nose. She stood at the stainless steel counter, pounding an enormous ball of dough into complacency. He walked over to one of the pots simmering on a nearby stovetop and glanced inside. Cherries boiled with a hint of spices, cinnamon, and something else he couldn’t name.
“Touch that pot and I will chop off your fingers with my fileting knife,” Emily snarled.
His head whipped in her direction, his gaze narrowed to angry slits. A sub never addressed him in such a manner. He growled, “Excuse me?”
Emily shot him a frustrated glance, then rolled her eyes and said, “You heard me. Now, unless you want me to make good on my threat, I suggest you get out of my kitchen.”
Her kitchen? It was all semantics, he knew, but she was pushing his buttons. It was like yanking on a tiger’s tail. Eventually, the tiger got damn tired and decided to yank back. Mason crossed his arms over his chest and quirked a brow at her. “Your kitchen?”
“Damn straight it’s mine—until it isn’t. But until that time, get out,” she ordered, nodding toward the door. The rhythmic kneading of her hands in the dough never faltered or slowed. Nor did the scowl on her pretty face fade.
“You’ll pay for that,” Mason replied quietly, unable to keep the lust from his voice at the thought of spanking her heart-shaped ass until it glowed ruby red.
“Pffft. You’re all bark and no bite. You talk big about this is mine but your follow through is a bit on the flaccid side of things. I meant what I said. Out.”
That did it. He could see he’d been rather derelict with her training and impressing on her the importance of respect towards a Dom. His tolerance for her mouth was at an end. If he had to haul her into the storage locker and give her the spanking she so richly deserved, he would.
Flaccid? Please. Whenever he was in her vicinity, his cock could saw through diamonds he was so hard. Mason prowled toward her. They were going to have it out. Now. No more beating around the bush, no more back and forth. Emily was his sub, and it was time she started acting like it.
Two steps before he reached Emily, Tibby barreled into the kitchen, shouting, “Yo, boss. Sorry I’m a bit late. Arianna’s recital ran long.”
Emily ignored him completely and said to Tibby, “Could you take care of the cherries? They should only have a few more minutes. I don’t want them overcooked and I have my hands full with the dough for the tarts.”
“Sure. Mason, I’m surprised you’re in here. You rarely come to the kitchens,” Tibby said, putting her apron on and sidling up to the stove and the vat of cherries.
“Just wanted to check and see if Emily needed anything,” Mason replied to Tibby, then shot Emily a look and said, “We’ll talk later tonight.”
“Perhaps. We’ll see how tired I am once my shift ends. Or I could just meet you in your office tomorrow,” she said and gave him a defiant glare before turning her back on him and continuing her work as if he wasn’t even in the room.
<
br /> Like hell he would wait until tomorrow. The time for a reckoning between them had arrived. It was long overdue.
He’d give her the afternoon to believe she’d won this round. Because, by the end of the night, there would be no doubt in her mind that she belonged to him.
Chapter 18
Today had been nearly endless. Emily stood under the hot spray in her shower, allowing the heat to soothe her tired muscles.
What with hardly getting any sleep last night, to Faith leaving early, to Tibby arriving late and the kerfuffle with Mason today, she was beat. It wasn’t like her to run from a problem. And yet, Mason’s demeanor in the kitchen today… his gaze had promised retribution. She wasn’t in the mood. The man blew hot one minute, cold the next. His emotional pivots were giving her whiplash.
And she’d avoided going to see him because, in truth, as much as she told herself she could keep her emotions in check, that wasn’t her. Emily couldn’t touch him and not want more. Much more than he was willing to give.
She wasn’t built that way. To use someone purely for the physical aspect—she might as well just use a vibrator. It was cold and devoid of emotion. Sure, it got the job done. But she wanted the closeness. She craved the way he’d held on to her that first night. Emily had not grown up in a warm household. Her parents and siblings loved her, in their own way. Yet their family didn’t hug. They weren’t touchy feely people.
And Emily had always needed it, always felt a lack because of it. At the end of the day, if she couldn’t have the closeness with Mason, they were both better off just not continuing. It didn’t matter that thinking of him made her blood sing. Or the fact that she knew he wouldn’t turn her down if she marched over to his house at this time of night.
But it would be nothing more than two people using the other for sex. And that wasn’t Emily, which was why, as soon as she finished her shower, she planned to feed her snack cake addiction. Nothing quelled sexual frustration like the finger licking yummy goodness of a Ho Ho.
Emily turned in the shower stall, rinsing the last bit of conditioner from her hair, and issued a blood-curdling scream. Mason was leaning against the doorframe between the bathroom and bedroom. His caramel eyes had darkened with covetousness, his brawny arms crossed in front of his upper body, looking dark and dangerous. Hazardous to her peace of mind and, if she were honest, her heart as well.
“What the hell, Mason?” she snapped, yanking a towel around her body as she shut the water off.
His patronizing stare chastised her for her attempt at modesty. She stepped out of the stall and said, “You shouldn’t be here. You need to leave. This isn’t funny anymore.”
When she attempted to slip past him into her bedroom, Mason slid a hand around her waist and tugged her flush against him. She hissed at the salacious contact and her hands went to his chest to push him away. Her palms burned against him. Mason’s free hand held her chin and lifted her gaze.
Her knees trembled at the heat, the sheer force of the arousal that shrouded his handsome face. His molten caramel eyes glowed in passion. Her defenses weak, her body melted against the hard planes and angles of his.
“I told you earlier today we needed to talk. But first, there’s the matter of some much-needed discipline,” he said, and carted her into the bedroom. Her feet had no choice but to follow. She stumbled and would have fallen if it weren’t for Mason’s arms around her.
He’d been busy while she had been in the shower. It made her wonder how long he had been in her cabin. He’d stripped the comforter and sheets to the foot of her bed and had attached lengths of nylon rope to each of the posts. There were leather cuffs attached to the end of each rope. On one of her pillows was a black satin blindfold.
Then she spied a black leather satchel next to the nearest nightstand. There were toys he’d lain out on the nightstand, along with a sleeve of condoms.
What was his game? Her belly quivered in delicious anticipation, her earlier exhaustion forgotten in place of a hyper awareness of him. She said, “You’ve been busy. What’s this all about?”
Mason sat on the bed and then hauled her across his lap until she lay face down. She tried to push herself up. Her butt was positioned over his rock-hard thighs. Then he tugged at the towel.
“Mason? What the hell are you doing?” She jerked, scrambling to hold on to the plush material covering her. But she was no match for his unparalleled strength. He whisked the towel from her form.
His jeans rubbed against her stomach. He leaned a forearm across her lower back. No matter how much she squirmed and kicked—which she did—she couldn’t get free.
“This is what being a submissive is about, Emily. You were way the fuck out of line today. And for that, you will be disciplined,” he said, his voice controlled as ever.
“I’m not a fucking child, Mason!” she shouted, her anger rising, along with a healthy dose of fear and self-preservation. What did he plan to do to her?
His palm cracked against her naked rear. The sting reverberated through her being. She yelped, “Ow! Stop it.”
“No. You want to see what the lifestyle is about? This is it. It’s not all about sex. It’s about you willingly following a Dominant’s directives even when they aren’t in line with what you want.” His hand fell against her butt, harder this time. Hard enough that moisture entered her field of vision.
She jerked in his arms at the next swat. She couldn’t believe he was spanking her.
“This is for calling me flaccid.” He peppered her behind. His hand fell at a rapid pace. Her butt burned. And yet, as his palm cracked against her bottom, a liquid fire stoked inside her core and her sex pulsed in desire.
Through tears of pain blinding her vision, she choked out, “Shoe fits. Damn you, Mason, you’re the one who put up walls. Not me.”
“I know I did. I’m sorry for that. And we will discuss more after I’m finished with your discipline. This is for threatening me today with bodily harm.”
His hand whacked against her bottom. Her body burned from his touch. As his swats peppered her behind, the sharp pain morphed. As it did, Emily moaned and began leaning into his fervent touch. She’d never imagined a spanking could arouse her. But it did. Her system veered toward climax as he smacked her bum ardently.
Then his hand smoothed over her rear, massaging the enflamed globes. Emily mewled deep in the back of her throat. When his fingers swiped through her crease, pleasure speared through her. She gripped the mattress as two of his fingers penetrated her sheath. Her eyes nearly rolled back in her head as he breached her.
He stroked her. Emily canted her hips in open invitation, and then she shattered. She climaxed. Hard. Pleasure flooded her body. She shook. Her pussy clenched at his thrusting fingers.
And then he withdrew his hand from her folds. Before he could stop her, Emily scrambled off his lap until the headboard was at her back. She winced at the dull throbbing ache in her bum, and attempted to cover herself with her arms.
“Mason, why are you doing this to me? I can’t keep up with your moods. One minute you want me and the next, you hold me at arm’s length. If this is the way it’s going to be, I’m sorry but I can’t be with you.”
He shifted and stood, then started unbuttoning his flannel, revealing his chiseled torso. “I know. And I’m sorry for that. I do want you, Emily. More than I should.”
When he tossed his shirt and hat onto the nearby chair, she clenched her hands into fists. He was so damn beautiful, he made her ache with longing. “At least tell me why?”
Mason continued undressing, stepped out of his boots and said, “Well, first and foremost, you do work for me. It’s bad form to fuck your employees.”
She gestured with a wave of her hand. “And that’s all this is, a quick fuck?”
His gaze never wavered as he unhooked his belt buckle, his voice husky. “No, it’s not for me. Which is part of the problem. My job is to make sure that this place runs effectively. That I don’t show favoritism, or
risk losing this place, because I want you.”
“And you think I would cause you to lose this place?” She slid off the bed, unmindful of her nudity, and jabbed a finger into his chest. “Do you think so little of me, Mason? That you think I don’t know what this place means to you? I’ve seen you. You treat the lodge like it’s a freaking temple to the gods. I would never want to take this away from you.”
“I’m coming to see that,” he murmured and shucked his jeans until he stood in nothing but boxer briefs that displayed exactly how much he wanted her.
“And did it ever occur to your Neanderthal brain that I might want this place to succeed for purely selfish reasons of my own?” Emily’s blood pressure boiled and mixed with arousal. She had to fight that she wanted nothing more than to lean forward and taste his skin. To kiss the flat disks of his nipples. To follow the dark, narrow happy trail south with her tongue.
“Not until I read your proposals today, it didn’t.”
“Oh really? But why? Other than my tendency toward sarcasm, I’ve done nothing but work my ass off for this place. That should speak volumes,” Emily replied, exasperated beyond measure. Then Mason shoved his boxer briefs down his legs, freeing the thick shaft of his manhood. It jutted from his groin. Her mouth went dry at the thought of taking him between her lips.
“Because the previous chef pretended the same thing and robbed this place blind when I wasn’t paying attention. I know I’ve been hard on you and I’m sorry for that. You didn’t deserve it. I was more pissed at myself than anything,” he said, pulling her close. Their bodies touched, aligned from shoulder to hip. His engorged cock pressed into her belly. Her breasts were smooshed against his incredibly firm chest. The man was hard everywhere. He’d barely touched her and already her nipples ached. Her pussy fluttered in heady anticipation. She hissed at the feel of his naked form against hers as it scorched her very foundation.