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He looks feral, his gaze almost inhuman as it slides over me. He’s primal and viscerally male, and I hate myself for being turned on by the sheer animalistic aura vibrating from him.

“Keely.” The throbbing power with which he says my name sends a tremor through me. His lips curl slightly as he rasps, “What do you want?”

“I…” I stop and run my tongue over my lips. His eyes flicker and narrow a shade, but he continues to trap me in his gaze. “I wanted… I want to talk to you.”

“And whatever you need to say to me can’t wait?” he asks softly.

The woman in his arms lets out a little sigh. My eyes dart to her and then to the redhead before meeting Mason’s gaze. Something in the hazel expression dares me, taunts me, sets my insides on fire with a tight, grasping need I can’t explain.

No matter how much I try to deny it, something about him pulls at me like a black hole sucks stray objects into its orbit.

“No, it can’t,” I reply, trying to summon back the anger that propelled me to this room in the first place. But I can barely remember the reason for seeking him out.

All I feel is the blood rushing through my veins, the thick smell of power, sex and domination in the air—and what the dangerous cocktail is doing to me. My skin has grown taut, and a pulse hammers through my clit with enough force to vibrate through my whole body. I can barely breathe as I stare at Mason.

“Are you sure?” he asks, his voice still radiating that low, effortless power, like a spider web in the dark, growing, spinning, drawing me ever tighter into his unbreakable grip.

He continues to stare at me, and the connection between us vibrates with the gravity of the question in his eyes. He’s not asking if I’m sure I want to talk to him.

What he’s really saying is,Are you prepared for the consequences of me sending my pets away?

My gaze slides to the one in his arms who has recovered enough to support herself. She’s staring at me, albeit with hazy, just-come-harder-than-I-ever-imagined eyes. Another lance of jealousy makes my teeth grind as I move my glare to the redhead staring at me with daggers in her eyes.

“Yes, I’m sure.”

Shit, I don’t know what I’m letting myself in for, and part of me is terrified. But I do know that I don’t want to leave this room. Not while Mason is in here with these two women, giving them pleasure I’m not even sure I want for myself.

Mason stares at me for another full minute, all the while holding on to one pet and letting the other rub herself over him.

When his lashes sweep down, my stomach lurches, certain he’s about to refuse my insane request.

“Amber, Mae Ling, you heard the lady.”

Amber’s eyes flash deadly fire at me. “But Mason, I haven’t had my turn yet.”

Jesus, it’s now past four. If she hasn’t had her turn yet, does that mean Mason has been working on May Ling since lunch time? My stomach flips again, and my fists clench by my side as I stare him down. His mouth twitches, but his eyes are dark golden hooks, pinning me where I stand.

My feet may not want to obey me right now, but my mouth works just fine. “Let’s get one thing clear. If you and I are going to do this, you need to promise me that it’s going to be an exclusive thing. You.” I point at Mae Ling, who’s now fully awake and eyeing me with equal venom as she hangs on to Mason’s waist. I take another step, ready to fully immerse myself in a bitch-off if that’s what it takes. “If you want to keep those dainty little hands, get them the fuck off him right now. You too, ginger,” I sneer at Amber, who’s entertaining the idea of changing Mason’s mind by rubbing her crotch against his hipbone.

Mason tenses at my use of the F-word, but I don’t care. Whatever punishment he wants to dole out can come after I’ve skinned him alive for making me feel like some jealous bitch in heat.

They both look to Mason for direction, but his gaze never wavers from mine. After a tense moment, they step back warily, sensing the volatile emotions whipping through the air.

Clothes are gathered and hastily donned and heels click past me before the door shuts behind me.

The knowledge that I’m alone with Mason slams into me as he slowly advances. My eyes drop to his solid neck, his golden rock-hard shoulders and pecs, to the ridged torso that I sense didn’t come from the gym but from sheer hard work. A few scars crisscross his body—sports injuries or everyday wear and tear. I don’t have time to dwell on it because he moves closer, and my eyes are drawn lower, to the black leather and the evidence of his state of mind.

My hands slam out in a fiercely protective motion. “If you think you’re coming anywhere near me after servicing your goddamn pets, you’re seriously nuts.”

He freezes, and his nostrils flare with anger. “What the hell?”

My laughter cuts him off. “You really were going to continue with me where you just left off with them, weren’t you? Do you want me, Mason?”

His brows clamp together. “Christ, of course I do. I believe I’ve said so very explicitly several times.”

“Okay, how about I go and rub myself all over one of the bodyguards on the upper deck? Maybe throw in a hand job, let him blow his load all over my—” A low, deadly growl rumbles from his chest and I swallow. “Then I present myself to you. Would you still want me?”

“That’s not going to happen, because anyone who touches you, besides me, dies.”