His Wicked Love

by Anya Summers

  She shook her head but her gaze was soft and inviting. “What am I going to do with you?”

  “I can think of a couple things off the top of my head,” he said, wagging his eyebrows at her.

  She snuggled against him and murmured, “Me too.”

  And his heart tumbled over in his chest. He cuddled her close, enjoying the way she felt in his arms. She fit him perfectly. She sighed against him as he stroked a hand over her back.

  Mason wasn’t certain how long they sat there, but it was long enough that Emily fell asleep against him. Her soft snores filled the kitchen and clutched at his heart. She belonged to him now, in every way imaginable. She called forth every protective instinct he had inside him. Emily was easily the most affectionate woman of his acquaintance.

  He loved it. Loved her need of him, to be close to him. That she didn’t push him away after sex but clung to him. Even in the dead of night, he craved having her near. Moving gently, he stood with her in his arms and carried her up to his bed.

  Once they made it past the Oktoberfest event tomorrow, they needed to talk. He wanted her with him, here in his home. He knew it was a big step. And he’d have to make sure Cole was fine with it too. But his bed and his arms each night was where she belonged.

  Chapter 23

  Saturday morning dawned bright and early. The first rays of gauzy sunlight filtered in through the curtains. The weatherman had called for sunshine and crisp fall temperatures. And, seeing the sunlight, Emily smiled. That was one worry off her back. When you hosted an outdoor event, you were beholden to Mother Nature’s whims.

  She didn’t even remember coming up to Mason’s bedroom last night. He’d been correct. She had been tired. But they were still going to need to work on their communication. Although, thinking about last night and the way he’d so easily tossed her over his shoulder all caveman-like and brought her here, was it any wonder that her entire system just seemed to sigh at the memory of it?

  Mason lay on his back beside her, sleeping peacefully. She yearned to touch him, caress his jaw, run her fingers over the broad expanse of his chest, down the happy trail bisecting the six pack of his stomach, and then dip her hand beneath the blankets to his shaft.

  But if she did that, she would never get up and conquer the million or so items on her to do list for today. Regretfully, Emily shifted, tossing the blankets back to slip from Mason’s bed.

  “Just where do you think you’re going?” he mumbled, his voice gruff and sleep laden. Just at the sound of his voice, which always reminded her of dark rum and cigars, warmth pooled in her belly.

  “Mason, as much as I would love to stay in bed and while the day away with you, I have to get to work. People will be here in a few short hours, demanding food.”

  He tugged her into his arms and she didn’t resist, much. She had to at least save face and not show him that, where he was concerned, she had no willpower. It was like if she were left alone in the Ding Dong factory. Mason murmured and his hands—God, she loved his hands, those big, working man hands—slid over her back and cupped her bottom. “That sounds like fun. I think we should do that tomorrow. Spend the day here. You’ve earned it.”

  “But the Elkhorn…” she protested, albeit rather feebly, because at the thought of staying in this big comfy four-poster bed with Mason all day, her entire system electrified.

  “I already decided to keep the restaurant closed tomorrow. There will be some clean up we’ll need to do. But all the club members will be here in force to help with that. So other than that, it’s the plan for Sunday.”

  She melted against him. “I like the sound of that.”

  He chuckled. “I thought you might. And we can move your stuff in here tomorrow too.”

  “Move my stuff here? You want me to live with you?” she asked with a breathy whisper as Mason rolled her beneath him and nestled his big body between her thighs.

  “You’re already here most nights. It would make it easier—on both of us, but you especially—if you had more than just a toothbrush here, don’t you think?”

  She cupped his cheek. His stubble prickled over her skin. And she held his gaze. “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah. I am. I like you in my bed every night.”

  She sighed. There were times she wanted to strangle the pig-headed man and there were others, like now, when he made her insides melt faster than butter in a microwave. “Me too.”

  “Is that a yes?” he asked, flexing his hips in a gentle rhythm, his shaft rubbing against her sex. The delicious feel of him against her was making her so hot. She wanted to forget everything else but him and the way he loved her.

  “It’s an: I will think about it and let you know after Oktoberfest is done today,” she replied with a guttural moan at the intensity of passion he evoked within her body.

  “I bet I can convince you,” he murmured, his gaze infused with desire.

  “Oh yeah, how?” she asked with a catch in her voice as his hands cupped her rear and the head of his shaft pressed against her core.

  He leaned in and whispered a suggestion in her ear. Her breath expelled in a rush of desire.

  “But the event?” she said.

  “I need ten minutes, tops,” he said, rolling his hips and plunging inside her quivering sheath.

  “Well, if you’re sure it won’t take longer than that,” she said, arching her back as he thrust.

  “It won’t,” he promised with a groan as his lips claimed hers.

  And then every last thought fled as he proved just how skilled he was at making her forget everything but the wicked delights of his body moving against hers. And it only took him five minutes before she was screaming his name.

  Oktoberfest rolled out and opened with only a few minor hitches. Nothing to worry about. There was always a problem that needed to be addressed at these types of affairs. By noon, the lodge grounds were crowded with families and throngs of people.

  The food was going out as fast as their fingers could make it but everyone was enjoying themselves. Spencer was working the beer booth, along with Matt from the club. They had another beer station set up on the opposite end, with the lodge bartenders working it.

  Emily could hear the loudspeaker down at the stables announcing the next smattering of events down there. Alex was giving different demonstrations and had even called in a few favors with some of his rodeo buddies.

  She had spied Jackson, along with a few other officers from the Jackson Police Department he’d roped into working the event today, helping keep the peace and keeping an eye on anyone who had one too many beers. Even though they’d placed a cap on the number of beers a person could have, that didn’t mean some knucklehead wouldn’t get around it.

  Cole was over at a booth, giving demonstrations on outdoor survival skills. A few of the subs were handling the face painting, which was a huge hit with the kids. Sexy Garrett was holding a raffle over in the tent area for a chance to win a luxury weekend getaway at his ski resort.

  Carter and Jenna had shown up with their son. Meghan was with them and Emily couldn’t help but notice the way she and Spencer glared at one another.

  And then there was Mason, moving from booth to booth, helping her oversee the event.

  Butterflies flapped their wings in her belly every time she caught his heated gaze. She carted another pan of freshly baked pretzels and couldn’t stop herself from looking for him. She was a moth to his flame. And now he’d asked her to move in with him. It was all happening so fast.

  Did she want to live with him? God, yes. She loved sleeping beside him every night. Loved feeling his strong arms around her. Loved… him.

  And wasn’t that just her problem? She’d fallen so far, so fast that she felt like she was trying to keep her sense of self, worried that she would lose herself in Mason.

  Then again, hadn’t she already?

  It was the question that plagued her throughout the day. Her heart was already on board. It was Emily’s head that needed conv
incing. She took over for Tibby at the booth in the afternoon so that she and her daughter could experience some of the fun. She handed out pretzels with nacho cheese sauce. There were the bratwursts stewed with sauerkraut, caramelized onion pretzel rolls with caraway salt, jumbo pretzels with beer cheese sauce, wiener schnitzel, beer braised brisket, traditional Sauerbraten, potato salad by the gallons, meat pastries, and more. And those were only the main dishes. They didn’t include the hot dogs, burgers, grilled chicken, French fries or the myriad number of desserts.

  The event ran until seven thirty. But by six, the hordes were beginning to diminish. That was fine by Emily, however, because they were leaving with smiles on their faces. She didn’t stop running all day, until the final guests climbed into their cars and pulled away.

  She smiled as they began cleaning up, everyone working in concert to take down stations. She wrapped up doggy bags of the leftovers for club members and volunteers. Both Alex and Garrett professed their undying love for her food.

  She was in the kitchen, overseeing the last of the clean-up, when warm hands slid around her midsection.

  “Come with me. We can finish the rest in the morning,” Mason murmured. His voice carried a hint of sexy gruffness that always stirred her, even when she was ready to drop from sheer exhaustion.

  “You’re right. I already sent everyone else home,” she said, turning in his arms.

  “And we should do the same.” He nuzzled her neck.

  “I like the sound of that,” she replied and let him tow her away from the kitchen and out the back door.

  The moon was full and bright overhead. Nearby, an owl hooted. And Emily felt more satisfied and happier than she’d been in a long time. It had a lot to do with the man at her side. Maybe, just maybe, she’d give this cohabitation bid a try.

  Mason guided Emily up the path to his house, pleased that she hadn’t fought him about leaving the rest of the clean-up until tomorrow. She was dead on her feet. He was, too, but his first priority was seeing to her. As they neared the house, he noticed a car he didn’t recognize in the driveway.

  Tension entered his system. In the darkness, he couldn’t tell who was sitting on his stoop. But he didn’t like it. His arm around Emily’s waist, they headed toward his front porch.

  When he spied the all too familiar face, anger riddled his frame.

  “Hello, lover,” Claire purred as she stood. Even after a stint in jail, she looked good. Granted, the boobs were fake, just like the rest of her, but that didn’t diminish the fact that she was a looker from the top of her bleach blonde hair to the tips of her toes. And yet, it was ironic because seeing her now, in the moonlight, with everything fake, she didn’t hold a candle to Emily.

  “You are not allowed to be anywhere near the lodge and you know it. Get the fuck off my property now and I might think about not calling the cops,” Mason snarled. Emily was ramrod straight beside him.

  “Oh, pooh, I love it when you get all dominant like that. How would you like me?” she purred again, posing like a cover model on his front steps.

  “Leave. Now,” Mason commanded. He wanted to throttle the bitch for all the trouble she’d caused him. And for having the balls to come here, to his house.

  Claire’s gaze drifted over to Emily. “So this is who you replaced me with, who you put in my kitchen? And apparently, in my bed, too.”

  Emily flinched against him and looked like she’d been struck. “Your kitchen?” she asked, glancing between them.

  He hated the horrified expression on her face. The disbelief. The hurt he noticed in the lines of tension in her form. It was his fault. He should have told her about Claire.

  “I’m the previous chef, sweetie. Most of the dishes you’re making were my creations. And Mason wasn’t just my lover but my Master,” Claire replied, giving Emily a patronizing and rather condescending glare.

  Emily glanced accusingly up at him. “Is what she said true?” she asked, extricating herself from his arm about her waist. Her hands were clenched into fists. And in the moonlight and low half-light from the front porch, he saw her lips tremble.

  Fuck.

  “Yes,” Mason growled. He wouldn’t lie to her. Not with the proof standing a few feet from them.

  Emily withdrew from him entirely. She wrapped her arms around her torso, her chin jutting out, and said, “I see. You two apparently have some catching up to do.”

  “Em,” Mason said, reaching for her.

  Emily shook her head and backed away from him, but not before he caught the sheen of moisture glinting in her eyes. She raced down the path, heading toward her cabin. Mason would catch up with her as soon as he evicted Claire from his property.

  He rounded on Claire.

  “Why the fuck are you here?” he seethed. Anger vibrated through him. He couldn’t believe he’d ever thought she was attractive. Looking at her now, knowing the destruction she’d wrought, his hands clenched into fists. Mainly to keep himself from wringing her damn fool neck.

  “Because I missed you. I missed us,” she simpered and stepped closer.

  “Try again,” he snarled, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

  “Oh, all right. As a condition of getting probation along with house arrest and not going to prison, I have to pay off everything I took,” she explained with a shrug, as if what she’d done to him—done to the lodge—was no skin off her back. It infuriated him. He’d never cared for her, not really. What they’d had together had been nothing more than physical chemistry. And now he couldn’t even see how he’d once found her attractive. Hot, even.

  “And how do you plan to do that?” Mason asked, refraining from touching her. If he did, he would throttle her to within an inch of her life.

  “Daddy doesn’t like his princess to have to worry about things like that. This,” she said, holding out a white envelope, “should be everything. You’ll have to sign some documents too, stating you’ve been paid, yada, yada, and then you never have to see me again.”

  “Your father? But you took over two million!” Cole had mentioned something about her being loaded. Mason snatched the envelope from her hands. Opening it, he stared at the check with all the zeroes on it, along with the attached documents.

  “What can I say, my family’s rich. Dad owns a conglomerate, a few sports teams. I’m not really even sure what he does half the time. And this is coming out of a small portion of my inheritance.”

  How nice for her. Mason’s head spun. She was paying him back every cent she’d taken. “I need my attorney to look at this, verify it with the courts.”

  “Certainly. Now how would you like me, for old time’s sake?” she simpered and fluttered her fake lashes at him.

  “Leave now or I won’t sign shit, and you can rot in prison for all I fucking care,” Mason said, not hiding his anger or the disdain he felt for her.

  “Fine. I’m going. Sheesh, what the hell happened to your sense of humor?” Claire said, walking down the stairs and heading past him toward her car.

  “You did,” he snapped, not hiding an ounce of his disgust.

  Claire swiveled and leveled a glance at him. “I’m sorry, Mason. I know I can be a real bitch.” She slid into the car. Mason watched until her car had left the lodge property before he headed down the path.

  Once he’d explained everything to Emily, it would be fine. They’d crossed a lot of boundaries in the time they’d been together. He’d claimed her as his submissive. They would get past Claire’s intervention and interruption, then be stronger for it.

  It was time he told her everything.

  Chapter 24

  Emily moved around the cabin in a whirlwind. She fought back the tears which threatened and leaked out as she tossed clothing into her suitcases. She was leaving. There was no way she could stay.

  How could she have been so stupid? Not that she’d expected Mason to be a monk or assumed he hadn’t had a past. After all, she did, and he hadn’t held that against her. But the problem was he se
emed to like to dally with the chef. And she had been stupid enough, needy enough, naïve enough not to see that she’d merely been a placeholder in his bed.

  She bit back the sob as she dumped her clothes into her suitcases, not worried about order.

  She could practically hear her mother rolling her eyes in disdain at her stupidity. That she’d been too stupid to see the signs. Why hadn’t anyone told her about Claire? Beautiful, stacked, blonde bombshell Claire. And okay, so some of her insecurity came from the fact that she’d always been viewed as lacking by her family, by the society and culture of Los Angeles. She had hips and an ass. She had a small swell of belly—from her snack cake addiction, no doubt.

  But she’d given Mason all of herself, every nook and cranny, and had thought it meant something. That she meant something to him… when she was really just the latest to occupy space in his bed.

  She wondered, if Claire hadn’t appeared, how long she would have lasted in his bed. Heaven help her, she’d begun seeing a permanence with him, had seen herself living in his home, maybe even a little boy with grubby fingers, with his smile and her eyes.

  Pain lacerated her form and she gripped the dresser. She couldn’t fall apart just yet. She needed to leave first, find a place to stay tonight, even a temporary one, and then she could decide her next move from a place of strength.

  “Emily, open up,” Mason said, pounding on the front door.

  “Go away, Mason. I don’t want to talk to you.” Or see you. Or allow you to see that you broke my heart.

  The lock flicked. The door wrenched open. Mason strode in. His gaze narrowed when he spied her suitcases.