Chapter 12
KEELY
Mason whips her between the legs one more time, then growls, “Come. Now.”
His voice triggers her release and full-bodied shudders cannon through her. The artificial arms keep her from falling and Mason presses another button that makes her scream with pleasure. After a minute, the arms release her, and he catches her as she falls.
My galloping heart takes in the scene before I glance at the redhead. She’s watching me with narrowed, assessing eyes and her fingers are still out of sight below his waistband where she’s caressing Mason’s skin. As I stare, she shifts closer and rubs her C-cup breasts against his arm.
“Master, we have a visitor,” she murmurs in his ear.
“Dammit, didn’t I say I don’t want to be disturbed?” Mason’s voice is deep and rough and the woman who’s just orgasmed is a dead weight in his arm.
“Mason.” I attempt to say his name, but my voice is hoarse and indistinguishable.
He whirls around with the woman still in his arms, and his eyes meet mine over her bowed head. I see his expression for the first time and my heart slides into my throat.
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.”
I roll my eyes. “Says the man who’s standing in front of me, sporting a hard-on from another woman.” Something squeezes in my chest as I say that, but I ignore it.
“I didn’t get a hard-on until I turned and saw you,” he states with a brisk snap.
“You really expect me to believe that?”
“Yes, because it’s true.” He continues to eye me like I’m keeping him from his meal. A meal that involves me and only me.
“You made another woman come right in front of me.” I’m still not entirely sure how I feel about that.
“I was testing the equipment. I told you I would be doing that today.” His voice still holds that dangerous edge that has my nerves jumpy, and his eyes are sweeping me from head to toe, as if searching for a weakness, something he can latch on to and attack.
When his gaze stops on my chest and his hands twitch, I don’t need to look down to know my nipples are at full attention and craving his touch.
I feel every nerve in those hard buds as if he’s setting fire to them.
I gulp in air and try to think my way through the muddle my emotions have made of my head. “Regardless, I’m not letting you touch me. Not tonight.”
His jaw clenches hard, and he exhales. “Tomorrow morning, then. Come and have breakfast with me.”
I interpret that correctly as Come so I can have you for breakfast .
I shake my head. “I’m interviewing all day tomorrow, no thanks to you and your intervention with your prima donna French chef. Oh yeah, I’ll thank you not to interfere with my staff hiring, please.”
His head drops forward, and I’m freed from his penetrating gaze. Free to let my eyes devour his beautiful body and the tensile energy whipping around him so thickly I can almost reach out and touch it.
His erection hasn’t subsided, and I start to believe that he meant it when he said whatever he was doing to Mae Ling didn’t turn him on.
“Consider it done. When can I see you, then?” he breathes without looking up.
“I’ll be done by six, we can have dinner at my hotel at?—”
“Six-fifteen,” he bites out, his voice ferocious and final. “But I pick the place.”
Alarm stiffens my back, but I accept that I’ve already trampled on the danger signs and there’s no turning back. “Okay. I’m cool with that.”
He raises his head and spears me with that intense gaze again. “There will be no backtracking from you,” he says as if he has direct access to my thoughts and wants to reiterate what I’ve just acknowledged. “Not any more. You want this. Tell me you want this.”
I swallow. “I want this. After we lay down a few more ground rules.”
His mouth compresses, but he exhales and jerks out a nod.
I turn toward the door and sense him take that final step.
I reach for the door, but his hand slams against it, preventing it from opening.
He steps closer and cages me in with both arms, although his body never touches mine.
“I want to kiss you so fucking badly,” he growls against my ear.
“I want to lick your pussy again, find out if you taste as glorious as you did in Montauk. Don’t leave, Keely.
Stay. I’ll take a shower if that’s what you want. Hell, I’ll take a dozen showers.”
I suppress a shudder as he leans even closer. The scent of sweat and arousal engulfs me. I want to say to hell with the showers, that I’ll take him raw and earthy and dirty. I force my eyes shut for a heartbeat and pray for strength before I pry them back open. “Tomorrow.”
He inhales and exhales slowly. Then I feel him move away. I look over my shoulder and see him shadowing my body with his hands, an intense, deviant light in his eyes. When he looks at me through his lashes, I feel a pulse of electricity fire through me.
“Tomorrow.” His voice is a steely promise. He steps back and reaches for the door.
I stumble through it and have very little recollection of leaving the yacht and walking back to my hotel.
I fall into bed sometime later and finally let the afternoon’s events in.
For the first time in six years, I’m risking handing over a portion of my control to someone else. One slip is all it takes. One misguided decision—especially with a man who seems to smash through my every barrier to reach a place I don’t want touched— could be the end of me.
Telling myself that this time whatever I choose to give will be with my permission doesn’t stop the cascade of fear pouring through my soul. Nor can I stem the flood of memories that swamps me as I lie in the dark, gripping my pillow.