Page 31 of The Spare (The King Dynasty #2)
Chapter eighteen
Taking It
M ason grabs the boxes from the backseat, and gestures with a jerk of his chin to proceed before him to the door that leads to the elevators. I walk silently, keeping my arms folded across my torso. I've never been here.
"How come you've never let me come here before?" I ask hesitantly.
"Because." He clears his throat softly. "You were underage when I bought the place."
"Oh," I say. But I can't really blame him, because the truth is I would have let him do whatever he wanted to me back then. And I think he knows that .
My eyes flicker around as I hold the door open for him to walk through and I press the elevator, waiting silently. It dings, and I go in first, followed close behind by Mason who is seething. I can tell.
The doors close and I wait a second. "Which floor?"
"Push the penthouse button," he says gruffly.
I roll my eyes at the ' duh, stupid' in his tone.
"Shut up," I mumble under my breath, reaching forward.
It lights up as I press it then stand back, waiting patiently as we ascend about sixty floors before it opens into a beautiful hallway with a black and white checkered marble floor.
I meet his eyes as the doors open, and he again stays quiet.
I walk ahead of him, turning and seeing a white lacquered door at the end of the small hall lit up on both sides with modern lighting.
There's a table opposite the elevator doors with an ornate mirror, plants, and the color is a tasteful dark navy.
We make our way silently until we get to the door.
"Press it," he says, arching a brow and jerking his head to the door.
Tilting my head down I look, not seeing what he's talking about.
"The keypad on the left. You see the little rectangular box there in the side?
Press your thumb to it." I bend down looking closer, seeing a small pad recessed into the trim, almost invisible.
I press my thumb to it, hearing a muted beep and the lock click before the door swings open.
"Welcome home, butterfly," he says with a ghost of a grin.
A thrill courses through me combating the nervousness. Steeling my resolve, I turn my face from his and walk into a modern foyer.
Mason comes in behind me with the boxes, shutting the door, and I walk a bit deeper into the lush, obviously expensive area.
My eyes flicker everywhere, trying to take in this man's sanctuary.
According to Hendrix over the last couple of years he's owned this place, he's only been allowed over four times as Mason tends to like his space .
"Take your shoes off," Mason says, dragging his eyes down my body.
This is not how Izzy described Hendrix taking her, at all. She said Hendrix dominated her almost like a lion, a wild animal. Mason's making me feel more like the mouse that gets squeezed to death by it's predator before it gets swallowed whole.
I roll my lips, stepping out of these ridiculously tall heels. I wiggle my toes as my feet touch the cool floor, and I take the lead now, walking through the foyer and into the rest of the penthouse. The lights are motioned-censored, and they pop on, dimming as we advance deeper into the penthouse.
Which is huge.
I'm a bit in awe; the smell of his apartment is clean, the air slightly cool.
We make our way into the living room where a large fireplace dominates the far wall, flickering blue-orange flames that illuminate the deep brown leather couches. It's decidedly masculine and Mason's style. He bends, putting the boxes on the floor next to the reclining chair.
"It's nice in here."
I rub my hands briskly up and down my arms.
He straightens and steps to me without a word, reaching out and snatching me up by my hand and pulling me through an archway and down an adjoining hallway.
The further we venture down past the various closed doors of the hall the harder my heart begins to race, and I try to think of an excuse to not go to the bedroom because I'm so nervous I don't know what to do with myself.
"Mason," I say firmly, tugging at his grip on my wrist. "Wait, please. I want to see your place."
"I'm not giving you the tour right now. Right now, I'm getting some answers. "
He turns a sharp right and takes me to the last door which he opens and leads me through, closing it. The snick of the lock causes my eyes to go wide, as does the sight of his bedroom.
His shoulder brushes mine as he walks by me, causing my anxiety to spike so high I feel my throat momentarily stick shut.
"You ready to talk now?" Mason tosses over his shoulder in a deceptively calm tone, almost like he could be asking me about my day. "I asked you a question back in the car that you wouldn't answer."
He meets my eyes for a moment, before walking to the ornate dresser and takes his cufflinks off, putting them carefully in a little holding dish.
His watch comes off next. The matter-of-fact movements of him doing something so intimate renders me mute as I focus on his strong hands pulling his wallet out of his back pocket and undoing the leather bracelet on his left wrist.
"I think you know me well enough by now that I don't like repeating myself, nor do I like being ignored."
"Uh-huh." I clear my throat, tearing my eyes away in favor of casting a curious look around the bedroom. "And I think you know me well enough by now to know that I don't like being pushed, Mase."
He turns his body towards me, but I keep taking in my surroundings.
He's got a king-sized bed with the most expensive looking blue sheets I've ever seen, topped with a feather down comforter that's folded over to the middle of the bed almost. A huge mass of pillows dominate the bed by the headboard, and it's flanked by two matching floating nightstands.
A small chandelier hangs from the ceiling over the night stands, casting the area in a very soft, muted white glow.
The walls are painted the same navy color of the foyer.
There's thick carpet in here that makes it feel so homey, and the far side wall is nothing but floor to ceiling windows offering a beautiful view of the city with a slice of deep green Central Park on the left side to break up the concrete and glass of the city.
A bead of sweat trickles down the valley of my breasts.
I nervously clench my fingers together and blow out a calming breath, bringing my eyes back to him.
Mason places his hand on the top of the dresser and leans against it slightly, adopting an interesting position that I'm not used to, morphing before my eyes into something dangerous.
Powerful.
It's sexy, and I feel my pussy respond, clenching before becoming slick with need.
"Let's start with something a bit simpler than me asking if he fucked you." He folds his arms, staring hard at me. "Did he kiss you?"
I nod my head, feeling my eyes go wide.
"Hmm," Mason hums deep in his chest, his eyes hard on mine. The sound travels straight to my clit, making it throb with need. "What else did you let him have?"
A shiver runs down my spine, my skin flushes hot. Without looking, I can tell there are goosebumps on my arms and chest. I wet my lips nervously, the sexual tension between the two of us unbearably thick causing me to take a hesitant step forward, pleading with my eyes.
"He kissed me-"
"No," Mason interrupts, shaking his head once. A muscle twitches in his face as more of his displeasure comes through his features. "You let him kiss you. Let," he corrects me. "Say it."
A thrill courses through me at his rough, stern tone. "Fine. I let him kiss me," I admit in a small voice.
My arms come up to cross over my torso, and I rub my thumbs across my sensitive skin, needing to be soothed. My eyes leave his to look anywhere and everywhere but at him. I'm too intimidated .
Too raw.
"Did you let him take your virginity?" he asks. "Because as of your last gynecologist appointment three weeks ago, you were still a virgin. And if you fucked that man tonight, I'm going to fuck you up."
All the air is suddenly sucked out of the room.
Out of my lungs.
"You know my gynecologist information?" I say incredulously.
His eyes narrow and he leans a little further on his hand. "There's not much I don't know about you, butterfly." Looking very pleased with himself, a devilish grin tips his mouth up, causing my heart to flutter. "So?" he asks. "What's it going to be?"
Our gazes clash, and I see he's dead intent on extracting every piece of information out of me tonight. He wants me bare for him, and I'm just now realizing that while I felt almost invisible for so long, that it was but a respite from the true him.
The wicked Mason.
The Mason who apparently won't rest until he has every piece of me, and then some.
I narrow my eyes, feeling the need to fight back. "You can try."
"Oh, butterfly." He scoffs. "I'm going to absolutely tear your beautiful cunt up trying," he says so smoothly that I almost wonder if I imagined it.
My breath comes back in a rush.
Mason tilts his head and arches a brow as if he's waiting for me to respond; however, my bravado fades.
I tear my eyes from his and train them onto the floor between us, mortified and turned on beyond belief. I can't believe he said it like that, but with his words, he's left me no doubt at all about his intentions with me tonight.
He's planning on taking my virginity .
"M-Mason…" I stutter, feeling myself turning bright red, feeling my panties are soaked.
His head tilts. "Hm?"
I take an involuntary step back, then another and another until my heels sink into the plush rug of his bedroom. I keep my eyes down, unable to hold his eye contact any longer, and it's all I can do to keep my knees from knocking together.
I wanted this for so long that now I'm almost petrified that I have it.