Page 47

I frown my confusion. “Umm, yes.”

He nods. “Good. Bring it with you.”

I take it out of my purse, and he hangs the bag on a hook as we pass a huge archway that opens into a cathedral-windowed hallway. I want to stop and gape, but the sight of Mason’s ass as he strides in front of me is a way better magnet that keeps me fixated on him.

We pass through another arch and enter the sort of kitchen I’ve only ever seen in luxury magazines, although I recognize the designer immediately. Gordon Neiderheimer’s beautiful lines and use of steel and wood grace Bethany and Zach’s new house in California, and I was the one to source the designer for them. In another life, I would’ve stopped to stroke the grey granite surface I pass on the way to where Mason is waiting for me.

But those eyes of his hook into me, and I can’t concentrate on anything else but him. He takes my phone from me when I reach him and places it on a counter. Then he reaches behind me and peels my top off much the way he did his own a lifetime ago. Next, his thumbs pass under the cups, his fingernails grazing the underside of my breasts before he unhooks my cream lace bra and pulls it off.

The cool air hits my already pearled nipples and they furl further into hard nubs of screaming nerves.

“God, you’re beyond breathtaking,” he mutters thickly.

I tremble and a sound rumbles from his chest. One finger traces me from throat to navel, then he swirls his digit through the damp cum sticking to my skin. “I want to come on you again. I want to spread my cum all over you, soak you in it.”

“To do that we actually have to fuck,” I point out with a touch of impatience. “You’ve tortured me long enough. I need you inside me before I go out of my damn mind.”

His head snaps up, and his nostrils flare. He’s pissed, but I’m fast losing the will to care. All I want is to be fucked, and he’s keeping his beautiful, hard cock away from me. I reach for him but he captures my wrist in an unbreakable hold.

“Obedience brings rewards. Remember that.”

I bristle. “Yeah, I’ve done everything you asked since I walked in. Now it’s my turn. Or are you going to withhold now you’ve gotten yours?” The very thought makes me want to die. Or shamelessly beg.

“I’ve gotten nowhere near everything I want from you.” He releases me and slides his finger beneath my waistband, tugs at it. “Take it off.”

I comply only because I need to take it off to get fucked. But it doesn’t stop me glaring at him.

He smiles as I bend to push my pants down my legs, and my heart rattles through my chest like a pinball machine. God, he’s incredible when he smiles. I am partly thankful he doesn’t do it very often, because it packs a wallop that could be seriously detrimental to my mental health.

I straighten, and the smile melts off his face. I want to crow and bask in feminine power at the naked awe in his eyes when he looks at my body, but dear lord, I just want to be fucked as quickly and as thoroughly as possible.

I prepare to jump him, but he bends and grabs my clothes and starts to walk away.

“Jesus, enough with the damn suspense! I’m fucking dying here!”

I cringe and freeze the moment the swear word spills from my lips, but he doesn’t react. He places my soiled clothes in a futuristic-looking chute and presses a button before he retraces his steps.

“I sent you an email earlier. Did you read it?”

“What?” I stammer the question, and I fear my head’s about to explode from the tornado-speed with which he switches from sex to other things.

He picks up my phone and hands it to me. “Since you haven’t brought up the issue, I’m assuming you haven’t read it yet.”

He’s right, I haven’t seen an email from him, and as I swipe my password and click onto my email account, I struggle to think why he would send me one. The only answer my brain can supply is that it’s about work.

“You want to discuss work now?” I’m fast reaching the conclusion that he’s a sadist and I’m his victim of choice.

He steps behind me and trails his fingers over my shoulders. “Open it and read the attachment.”

I shudder helplessly and concentrate on scrolling through my unopened emails. I locate his, which came in a little over an hour ago, when I was soaking in the bubble bath, making myself clean and presentable to be tortured by a sadist.

Lust and anger war inside me as I stab the attachment and wait for the blue wheel to stop spinning in the pdf application.

I shudder when he moves my hair out of the way and replaces his mouth with his fingers. Warm kisses caress each vertebra until he reaches the small of my back. The darned blue wheel is still turning so I flick a glance over my shoulder.

Mason is on his knees behind me, his fingers hooked into my panties. He slides the cream lace over my hips and it pools at my ankles.

“Did you open it yet?” he asks, then grips my hips in a firm hold.