The Real Mason (11 page)

A couple nights ago, ’Rissa finally had enough and stormed in his house in full Mistress mode, demanding he pull himself together. She’d bitched, cajoled, threatened to hogtie him and drag him to some private party.

He’d thrown her out on her leather-covered ass.

There was no way he could play with someone else, not even in the most casual sense. Anna had lodged herself in his heart and refused to let go. All he could do was wait and pray it got better.

He poured two fingers of the brown, smoky liquid and downed it in one gulp. The expensive scotch hit his stomach like a fireball burning his insides and reminded him he hadn’t eaten since breakfast. He shrugged and poured another half a glass. He was too damn tired to eat.

He made his way to his great room and sank down on the sofa, flicking on the TV. Bone-weary, he tossed the remote onto the coffee table and scrubbed his hands over his face before staring blankly at the plasma flat screen.

God, he was such a fucking idiot.

He should have left well enough alone the night he’d tried to end things with Anna. Should have stuck to the plan and left when he’d had a chance. But because he’d wanted her, was desperate for that small inkling of hope, he’d convinced himself one night with her
his way
wouldn’t make a difference.

He’d been wrong.

One night had made missing her pure hell.

At least before he could have lived with the
what ifs
and the
she’d nevers
.

But now, fuck, now he had to live with the Technicolor memory of her absolute submission. Live with the sound of her screams as she came over and over reverberating in his brain. Live with the gut-wrenching knowledge that no matter how good it had been, it wasn’t enough.

That in the end he’d failed.

The doorbell rang, ripping him from his depressing thoughts.

He growled. Goddamn, ’Rissa, why wouldn’t she leave things alone?

He rose and stalked to the door, muttering every obscenity he could think of in irritation. He flung open the door.

“Go to hell,” he bellowed then froze. Blinked. Stared. Blinked again. Unable to process through his shock. “Anna?”

She looked at him with those huge sky-blue eyes. “Hello, Mason.”

He couldn’t speak. Couldn’t think. All he could do was soak in the sight of her and fight the urge to fall to his knees and thank the heavens.

The weather had turned cooler and she wore a black V-necked sweater, matching skirt and knee-high boots.

He frowned.

It was an unusual outfit for her. Usually she wore bright, sunny colors and loose, flowing fabric. Her normal clothes made her look adorable and huggable.

The clothes gave her a sexy, slightly sophisticated air. And huggable wasn’t exactly the word that sprang to mind.

Pink tongue darting out to wet her lower lip, she glanced around, peering into his foyer.

Jesus, he wanted to take that mouth and possess it.

She gave him a slow, dazzling smile that about knocked him on his ass. “Can I come in? Or am I interrupting something?”

He jerked as though awakened suddenly from a deep sleep and stood back, waving her in. “No, of course not, you took me by surprise.”

“Are you expecting someone else?” The silky cadence of her voice slid down his body, more intoxicating than the scotch he’d drunk.

He shrugged. “No, when the bell rang I assumed it was ’Rissa. She’s being a pain in the ass.”

“Are you happy it’s me?” Anna’s head tilted, sending blonde curls flying.

His heart gave a hard thump. “Very. Are you coming in?”

“Yes, please.” She strolled past him. Something had changed in her. It was obvious from the way she carried herself, the way she smiled. It was in the tilt of her chin and tone of her voice.

The question was, what did it mean for them? He supposed he’d find out soon enough and followed her like a puppy dog into the living room.

Mason couldn’t take his eyes off her ass as her hips swayed a seductive beat as she walked. When had he ever seen her in clothes that tight? Not even on their first date. On their first date she’d worn a white dress that practically covered her from head to toe. He’d remembered thinking she looked like an old-fashioned bride.

She sat on the couch with an easy grace. “Do you always tell her to go to hell?”

He took the chair across from her so he could watch every expression on her face. He studied her carefully, mildly annoyed she looked good enough to eat while he felt like yesterday’s garbage.

Damn, she was gorgeous. Too gorgeous. It made it hard for him to think straight.

She raised one golden brow in question and he realized he hadn’t answered her.

He cleared his throat. “It’s not an unheard of occurrence. She’s bossy.”

“Takes one to know one, I suppose.” Anna crossed her legs and black fabric slid up to expose a strip of thigh.

Mason stared at her smooth flesh and clasped his hands tightly together to keep from lunging. “Well, according to her I learned from the best so I suppose there’s some truth to that. But I don’t want to talk about her right now.”

Anna gave him a long, direct stare, then the corners of her mouth turned down. “You don’t look very good.”

He sat back and attempted to find his footing with the woman sitting across from him. Was this how she felt? Back when he’d changed the game on her?

And what was she doing here? Instinct told him it wasn’t to end things. Not with that sly gleam in her eye and that shift of her hips.

With no patience for a cat-and-mouse game, he did what he did best—he tested. “Well, you look very fuckable.”

She tilted her head as though contemplating her response. “Thank you. I’m glad you approve.”

Mason wanted to ask the right questions. Find out what she was thinking. Discover what she’d been doing all this time and everything else in between. But the words kept getting jumbled up in his brain because all he could think about was turning her over the arm of the sofa and hiking that skirt above her waist.

An idea popped into his head and a slow smile slid over his lips—there was one easy way to see where her mind was. Despite whatever changes she’d undergone, she was still submissive and it would cut right to the chase. It was a calculated risk but after the month he’d had, he was in a dangerous enough mood to pull it off.

And his instincts told him he was right.

Decision made, he nodded. “I do approve. In fact, stand up, pull that skirt over your hips and bend over that couch, girl.”

Heat darkened her eyes and her breath hitched as her foot began to sway. “And if I don’t?” Her voice sly, devious.

And right then, Mason knew he had her. She was his.

Relief, powerful and swift, lightened his chest and eased the tension he’d been carrying around for so long he couldn’t remember a time it hadn’t been there.

Followed by a lust so primal everything else paled in comparison.

They could work out everything else later. Right now, he needed to establish who was in control here before she got any wayward ideas about an uprising. “I believe you’re acquainted with the dungeon.”

She shuddered, her small shoulders shaking as she licked her lips. “Don’t you want to talk first?”

He studied her closely. She didn’t lower her gaze, just met him head-on. He found he liked that about her. It was different. It wasn’t the
rules
but it fit them. “If you’re not wet when I touch you, we can talk first.”

Her thighs tightened, giving him all the answers he needed to know.

Thank god he wasn’t going to have to live without her.

He gave her his most cocky, knowing smile. “Shall we see what we’re dealing with here?”

The vee of her black sweater allowed him to witness the quickening of her breath as her chest rose and fell. Her pupils dilated. “And if I refuse?”

She was testing him, although he didn’t have the mental capacity to figure out why with all the blood rushing to his cock. He’d get to the bottom of her motives later when he could think again.

Right now, he told her the simple truth. “Make no mistake, Anna, you’re going over that couch. How you get there and the price you pay is up to you. What’s it going to be?”

He sat back and laced his fingers over his stomach as though he had all the time in the world. In truth, she had about thirty seconds to comply before he took matters into his own hands.

He was feeling ruthless. Demanding. There would be no patience with her tonight.

So it was a damn good thing she didn’t appear to need any. Women wearing knee-high boots and a sinful smile weren’t looking for slow and easy. And he intended to give her what she needed. What they both needed.

Her, under his control.

She waited about twenty-nine of her thirty seconds and then stood.

Triumph stampeded through his blood and all his anger exploded into dust, just like the building he’d leveled today.

She straightened, throwing her shoulders back, hands on her hips, her legs spread apart. There wasn’t one thing timid about her. Hell, she looked like a warrior princess, decked out in ass-kicking black.

His gaze flicked pointedly to her hips.

Inch by torturous inch, that black skirt climbed up her thighs.

He wanted to pounce. Had to force himself to stay in his seat.

Another slide of fabric exposed another stretch of thigh.

Goddamn he loved this woman and he made his intentions known. “I’m not letting you go again.”

Her fingers curled over the hem of her skirt and tugged another inch. “That’s good, because I’m in for the long haul.”

Happiness replaced the grief from the last month. He’d find out all the details later but for now he needed to claim her at that most physical level. Bind her to him through skin and sex.

Another slow reveal of tempting flesh, her expression full of mischief.

He flashed a grin. “Aren’t you being quite the tease?”

She licked her lips. “Did you miss me?”

Deadly serious, he said, “More than you will ever know.”

More skin. “Me too. It was hard to stay away.”

Curiosity seeped through his desire. “Why did you?”

“By the end of the weekend, I knew it was a mistake.” She shrugged, shifting one leg, her hand stalled on her skirt. “But you’d given me the order to leave.”

He raised a brow. “You stayed away because I’d ordered you to?”

She shook her head. “No. I stayed away because I knew you had my best interests at heart when you gave it. And that if you thought it was best I left, I trusted it. So I was determined to do the work I needed to come back.”

“And that’s what you’ve been doing?” He sat forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

“Yes.”

“And what did you discover?”

She took a deep breath and for the first time since her arrival seemed to falter. “I discovered that while I could live my life being a normal, everyday girlfriend, nothing in my twenty-eight years ever made me feel as alive or as complete as the night I spent with you.” Her words gained strength as she spoke. “I discovered that while I loved you before your very startling confession, I loved you even more all bossy and dominant.”

“I see,” he said. The smile twitched at the corners of his mouth but he wasn’t quite ready to let it out yet. “Anything else?”

She met his gaze and there wasn’t even a flicker in their blue depths. “I want to be your submissive, whatever that looks like between the two of us.”

Peace calmed him, gave him that last bit of patience he needed before he fucked her hard, fast and brutal. He let his smile go, although it hinted at a menace he knew she recognized when her eyes went wide.

“Even if being submissive means…” He paused for effect, letting her anticipation grow, speaking only when she swayed forward. “Getting into a cage like some dog?”

“No way!” The words appalled, her brows slammed together in unison with her hands slamming on her hips.

He laughed, a low evil sound that had her two-stepping back. “And where do you think you’re going?”

“You wouldn’t.” Her voice wavered.

“You’ll just have to bide your time and find out, now won’t you?” He hardened his expression. “For now, hike that skirt over your hips, girl.”

With a happy, giddy laugh, she shimmied her hips so the skirt dipped down her thighs.

Before she could get any more ideas, he shook his head. “And Anna, I’d recommend you reconsider your cocktease strategy.”

Excitement danced in her eyes. “Or what?”

Little brat. Oh, he was going to have so much fun taming her. Of course, he didn’t want her too tame. He liked this sassy girl too much for that. “Or I’ll make you do a proper striptease later. Complete with music, pole and lap dances.”

“Ack!” She blanched and yanked her skirt over her hips in record speed.

He chuckled and nodded his approval. “Very nice.”

The description was woefully inadequate. Nothing could have prepared him for the sight of her in black boots and black lace panties. Never, since he’d known her, had she worn black lace.

“Turn around,” he said.

She did a slow swivel to reveal the smooth globes of her ass on display for him in a thong.

He swallowed hard, the ache in his cock growing demanding. Voice low, he said, “I was wrong.”

Her shoulders stiffened.

“Take the skirt off.” He didn’t want anything obstructing his view of her looking sexy and wicked and ready to be used and taken by him.

She went to face him but he stopped her. “No, stay like that. And work quick, girl. I’m not in the mood for a long, slow fuck.”

She peered over her shoulder and flashed a carnal smile. “What are you in the mood for, Mason?”

He gave her a stern look. “I’m in the mood to be obeyed. Lose the sweater too.”

She made fast work of the zipper and let it fall to the floor before she kicked it away. The sweater came next, revealing a matching bra.

The lines of her back were beautiful. The expanse of her shoulders, the line of her spine, the slope of her waist. He could look at her for hours, and another day he would.

But after a month of agony, that wasn’t an option. He needed to touch her. Mark her in the most primal way possible.