The Real Mason (12 page)
He stood, took the three steps to press against her.
She shuddered, tilted her head until it rested on his shoulder.
“Christ, I love you.” He slipped his arms around her waist and dipped his nose in her neck. She smelled like soap and sunshine and sex. He bit her neck, licking the pulse thudding a rapid beat under her soft, smooth skin. “You’re mine. Always. Understood?”
“Yes, Mason,” she said, her tone the very essence of submission.
Dizzy by her proximity and the lust roaring through his veins, he said, “You will be bound to me by every way possible. In whatever manner I want. Understood?”
“Yes, Mason.”
“Stay here and don’t move,” he ordered then slapped her ass.
Anna stood still and listened to the sounds of Mason climbing the stairs. The place where he’d smacked burned and felt so damn good she thought she’d faint. To think she’d almost gone her whole life without knowing the pleasure of a hard hand hitting her bottom. Now that would be tragic.
She heard Mason’s heavy tread as he walked down the hall toward what she knew was his bedroom.
What was he getting? A whip? Cane? That lovely flogger? Was he going to tie her up?
She closed her eyes, resisting the urge to squeeze her thighs together and relieve the ache. She’d missed him so much and she wanted him so bad.
It had been horrible to stay away.
After her revelation, she’d wanted to rush to his house but hadn’t. She’d realized there was a difference between understanding and believing.
So she’d spent the month letting it sink in. Learning how to believe there was no normal.
This
, what she and Mason were together, was normal. For them. No one else mattered.
And in her belief, she found that sense of power she’d always longed for but that always hovered out of her reach.
Mason all but ran down the stairs, distracting her from her thoughts. Her heart kicked up a notch.
His hands were empty.
She scowled. “Where did you go?”
He slowed as he entered the living room, eyeing her with a predator’s gleam before stalking around her.
Her blood picked up speed. Her nipples pulled tight. Her belly heated. All from that single look.
God have mercy when he touched her.
He stopped in front of her and gripped her neck, thumb pressing into her jugular.
Her pulse raced with excitement.
“Do you love me, Anna?”
The question took her aback. She cleared her throat, the dominance of the gesture not lost on her. “Of course, always and forever.”
He nodded. “Good, because you’re going to marry me.”
Shocked, she sucked in a breath. “Um…”
He dug in his pocket and pulled out a beautifully cut antique diamond engagement ring. “Your only job is to say, ‘Yes, Mason’.”
“Um…” She could only stare and sputter.
“Say, ‘Yes, Mason’.” He took her hand and slipped the ring on her finger.
It was a perfect fit. Behind the surprise, the utter disbelief that he was doing this now, was pure happiness. Peace. That sense of rightness that told her their love was strong and true.
“But,” she stuttered. When had he done this?
“‘But’ is not an option on the table.” He shot her that stern look that had her toes curling in her boots. “In fact, you have no options other than, ‘Yes, Mason’.”
Anna released her pent-up breath. She knew an order when she heard one.
She held up her hand to marvel at the emerald-cut diamond sparkling in the dim lights of his living room. An intricate, timeless pattern etched into the platinum.
It was perfect. He was perfect.
She grinned. She was going to be a bride. “Yes, Mason.”
“Good girl.” Those eyes she’d missed darkened and he trailed a path down her stomach then traced the edge of her panties. “Spread those legs.”
She trembled, gasped and opened to him. He slipped past the black lace she’d chosen with him in mind. He stroked through her wet folds, swirling over her clit.
Her knees wobbled and she moaned in pleasure.
Oh yes.
It had been too long since he’d touched her. Too long since she’d had the kind of orgasm only he could give her. She rocked into his hand.
“Greedy.” His squeezed her neck with just enough pressure to send a thrill racing down her spine. “Give me that mouth.”
She didn’t have to be asked twice. Their mouths met in a blind, furious melding of lips and tongue.
He took her. Claimed her.
It had felt like an eternity since she’d touched him and she feasted on him like a starving glutton. Mad in her desire. Frenzied in her lust.
She strained to get closer. Tried to climb him. Into him. She trembled when his hands held her still. Commanding. Under his control. Just the way she needed it. Had craved for the past weeks.
Hungry. She was hungry for him. Desperate for his taste. For the feel of his skin under her hands.
He denied her, clasping her wrists behind her back to hold her captive.
It made her hotter. Need him more. She pressed aching breasts against his chest. Rubbed.
He held her tighter. That strong grip manacled her as he possessed her mouth. Took her. Used her for his pleasure and she reveled in it.
She groaned, rocked. Hooked her knee around his hip and dragged her cunt along the hard ridge of his cock.
He broke away.
Scowl fierce, he shook his head. “Oh no you don’t.”
Frustrated, she growled low in her throat then whispered, “Please.”
“Brat,” he said, maneuvering her to the corner of the couch before whipping her around. He pressed the heel of his palm between her shoulder blades and pushed her down over the arm of the sofa.
The diamond flashed on her finger and she smiled. She was going to have this forever. Thank god there’d be no normal sex for her.
He slid his hands down her spine. “I am going to fuck the living hell out of you.”
She shuddered. “Yes, please yes.”
“Hard and fast.”
“Whatever you want, Mason.” She arched, an open invitation to do with her as he pleased.
He slapped her ass. Hard. Once. Twice. Three times. “That’s for making me wait so long.”
Fire exploded over her skin as that slow burn heated her pussy. Made her throb. She closed her eyes. She’d pay whatever price he demanded.
He hooked his finger into her wet panties, pulled the fabric to the side and thrust deep in one brutal plunge.
She cried out in pleasure.
He groaned in pure male satisfaction.
He filled her, stretched her. And it was heaven. She wanted more. Needed more.
She pushed her hips.
He smacked the curve of her hip. “Stay still.”
Damn him!
She punched the sofa but did what he ordered.
Only when her muscles finally eased around his thick erection did he begin to move.
Happy tears clouded her vision for one brief moment before they evaporated. He always thought of her comfort first. She came first with him.
She understood that now, in a way she hadn’t before. She trusted it. Trusted him.
He pulled out then slammed back in. All thought disappeared as she focused on his long cock filling her with hard, fast, brutal strokes.
Just like he promised.
Pleasure tightened deep in her belly. He gripped her hips with enough force to leave marks. The orgasm swelled. Tightened.
He pounded into her. She moaned. He thrust high. Her hips pushed against the arm of the sofa. The fabric rubbed against her clit, pushing her over the edge.
The scream ripped from her throat as her vision blurred. The room darkened as a powerful, fierce climax shook her from head to toe.
Seconds later he followed her, growling her name and thrusting furiously inside her, setting off another wave of contractions then collapsing in a heap.
His big body covered her and she trembled under all that heat. Safe in Mason’s arms, exactly where she wanted to be.
She sighed with contentment. ”I love you.”
He kissed her neck, setting off another tiny shiver. “I love you too, Anna.”
Happy to drift in a post-orgasmic high, despite her awkward position, she didn’t even think to move.
He brushed his lips against her neck again before pulling away.
She crawled over the arm of the sofa and flopped onto the couch, lids still closed.
He chuckled and moved away, returning less than a minute later and sitting on the edge of the couch.
He stroked her back.
Sleepy, her eyes still closed, she said, “You know you’re supposed to ask a girl to marry you.”
“Is that so?” His tone lazy and amused. “Stop hogging the couch, girl.”
She opened one eye and hoped it sufficed as a glare. But moved her legs to make room for him.
He plopped down and hauled up her slack body, tossing her around like a rag doll until she was nestled in his lap. When he was satisfied, he kissed her temple and she rested against his shoulder and snuggled close.
He squeezed her tight. “I’m going to hold you for a good long while but don’t get any ideas about sleep. You won’t be getting much tonight.”
With the jostling, she was already starting to perk up. “I’m up.”
He grinned down at her. “So about this asking thing.”
“Yes?” she asked. Her mind still too sated to think.
“Here’s how I think we should work this. Us.” He looked down at her, a huge grin on his face. “Sex, of course, is my way.”
She laughed, rolling her eyes in playful exasperation. “Of course.”
He pinched her. “Like you’d want it any other way. “
She just smiled. She wouldn’t. But she didn’t think the man needed any more cocky confidence than he already had.
“But everything else will be a little bit of you and a little bit of me. Like getting married.” He pushed a lock of hair behind her ear. “I’m not asking you to marry me, I’m telling you.
My way.
” He took her hand and held up her ring. “In turn, I got you an antique engagement ring that had
your way
written all over it.”
He was right. The ring was all her. She couldn’t have designed anything more perfect. “What would your way have been?”
His expression turned sly, devious. He traced the cords of her neck. “A diamond-studded collar to show who owns you.”
“Sounds like a reasonable compromise.” Betraying heat had her belly dipping but she gave nothing away but a sassy smile. “But I’m still not getting into a cage like some dog.”
He growled a low, playful sound rich with love and amusement. “Who’s giving the orders here, girl?”
She flirted up at him as she twined her fingers around his neck. “You are.”
He grinned and squeezed her ass, kneading with his palms, a threat and a promise. “You are going to be spending a lot of time in that dungeon.”
She grinned, happy and in love, her future clear. A girl could only dream.
About the Author
Born and raised in the suburbs of Chicago where she still calls home, Julia lives with her husband and two children. She never dreamed about being a writer, although she did go through a light FM, poem-writing phase when she was a teenager. Then one day, while experiencing a lull in her management consulting work and wanting to be good about her internet usage, she decided to open a Word document and play around. A full-blown obsession was born, and the rest, as the say, is history.
Julia welcomes comments from readers. You can find her website and email address on her
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