Chapter 12
“What the actual fuck just happened?” I whisper.
Pete doesn’t answer from his spot on the pillow next to me in bed, obviously, because he’s a dog, but he does give me a wide-eyed look that somehow makes me feel even more insane.
“What? Your dad is a psycho.”
I think some of Mason’s crazy is rubbing off on me—not literally, I was nowhere near his dick despite his continued offers—but I can’t wrap my head around everything that happened tonight.
At some point over the last week, I guess I’ve gotten used to the idea of having a man locked up in my basement. Not where I thought I’d end up in life, but I’m adapting.
What happened tonight, though, was truly insane. Even for Mason.
First, there was the jerking off. I couldn’t leave him alone in the basement without any handcuffs immediately after putting on his new restraint.
What if the collar didn’t work? What if the chain broke?
There were too many variables in that moment for me to trust him alone down there by himself. I stand by that.
But maybe I shouldn’t have actually been watching him while he was getting off. It was obviously because I needed to keep an eye on his hands since they were free. It’s not like I wanted to watch as his hard cock fucked his fist, right?
I’ve never seen another man’s erection in person before and wasn’t expecting to be so…
fascinated by it. I sat as far away as possible, near the top steps, but I could still clearly make out the bulging vein on the side of his shaft every time it slid through his grip, still see the way his spit made the darker pink tip shine in the shitty fluorescent lighting.
Plus, he had to make things even more uncomfortable by being so damn vocal about it all. And I thought the audiobook was graphic. God, the mouth on Mason. There were too many sex noises for me to not be hard.
I don’t think it was because I actually enjoyed watching him specifically.
Sure, he’s an objectively attractive person with his delicate features and deceptively innocent-looking big blue eyes, but I’ve never wanted to have sex with a man before.
I don’t think acknowledging that he’s attractive means I’m suddenly bi.
Everyone knows when other people are considered hot, right?
It doesn’t matter what gender they are; that’s a society thing.
This whole situation is fucking with my head, though.
I’ve never questioned my sexuality before I met Mason, but now…
I don’t know what’s going on. I don’t feel confident about any of the things I believed just a few weeks ago.
Am I actually straight? Would a truly straight person be warring over all of Mason’s suggestions the way I have been?
The realization I might never get to experience any of the BDSM sex I’ve fantasized about if I end up in jail, followed by seeing him chained up, in a collar I put on him while he offered me even kinkier sex than I’d imagined, is certainly tempting me in a way that I never would have expected.
I’ve never thought about fucking a man before this week, but Mason keeps shoving the option in my face, and now it’s impossible not to at least entertain the possibility.
Fuck, sliding my dick into him did sound tempting, and his ass looked so tight.
I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the sight of his hole swallowing his fingers.
I can’t imagine what that would feel like wrapped around my dick.
Maybe I should seriously consider Mason’s offer…
even if the whole consent aspect of it makes me uncomfortable when I think too hard about it.
I love the idea of dominating someone the way he keeps suggesting, but I know any consent he gives wouldn’t really count while I’m holding him here against his will, no matter how adamant he is about wanting it.
Fuck. I really must be going insane, because after listening to his book, I’ll admit they did make the exact same situation we’re in sound really hot.
I can’t believe I’m even considering this.
“Fuuuck,” I groan because I realize that while I’ve been thinking about all this, my dick has been getting hard.
No. I am not going there. I refuse to jerk off right now while my thoughts are all wrapped up in Mason. I’m not going to get off while thinking about him, and after everything I saw of him tonight, I wouldn’t be able to help it.
I’m going to go to sleep, ignore my aching dick, and not think about the man who’s chained up in my basement or the fact that he’s been begging me to fuck him for almost a week.
“So how many days do I have left?” Mason asks casually the next morning while I try to avoid eye contact.
It’s impossible for me to look at him and not think about everything I saw of him yesterday and how much I’m considering his suggestions to make the most of our situation, especially with how hot some of those suggestions are starting to sound.
Nope, I don’t need him reading into any of the facial expressions I make when our gazes meet.
“What?” I mutter because I wasn’t really paying attention as I handed him his scrambled eggs, toast, and bacon, then set down a bucket of snacks I made for him.
“Well, you mentioned that you’d kill me on Tuesday since you were off work. I think I’ve lost track of the days, though, because it feels like that should have already happened.”
“Oh, uh. Yeah. It’s Wednesday,” I admit. “I got called in, so it must have been your lucky day.”
The corners of his lips tug up into an obnoxious smile.
“It really was my lucky day. Thanks again for letting me have so much fun last night. Shame you didn’t participate more.
” I roll my eyes, ignoring the voice in my head that wants to agree with him.
“So, if yesterday didn’t work out, do you have a new plan for when to kill me? ”
“Why?”
“Because I’d like to listen to the next book in that series if we’ll have time.”
I groan, but I’ve also been pretty curious about the next book…
“Fine. Yes, you’ll have time.”
“Fuck yeah. You’re the best kidnapper ever.” He beams at me, and I ignore what that look of gratitude and adoration does to my stomach.
“Whatever.” I shake my head as I purchase the next book in the series and set it up on the speaker for him.
Mason settles in on the mattress, looking far more comfortable than any person chained by a collar has a right to be as he eats his breakfast while he moans as usual. “I think you’ve become an even better chef in the short time I’ve been here.”
I ignore his compliment, focusing on organizing the snacks instead of explaining that it’s because I’d never really cooked myself breakfast before, and now I’m doing it nearly every morning. For him.
“And you brought me snacks?” he muses, watching me.
“I figured you can’t use a wrapper to escape.” It’s not like I always need to watch him eat. He chokes? Cool, problem solved.
I run my fingers over the ring of keys I now have for the different locks and handcuffs to reassure myself he can’t escape. I should really find a place to keep these, though. Bringing them to work probably isn’t the best idea just in case I lose them somehow.
To be safe, I double-check the locks, and yeah, maybe that also buys me more time down here without making it seem like I’m invested in the audiobook.
It has the same narrator as the first, Ryder Stevens, jumping in with the brother’s point of view for how book one ended, which is actually pretty interesting.
The locks are good, so I might as well check on the wood I covered the window with next.
“Daddy, if you want to stay down here and hang out with me, I’ll be thrilled,” Mason says in that teasing tone he manages to maintain despite being a literal prisoner. “You don’t have to pretend to be busy.”
“We’re not hanging out,” I snap, then sigh when I realize I was being pretty obvious, so I attempt to explain. “I just… I can hear a muffled version of your book from all over the house, so I’d rather listen to all the words if I have to hear any of it.”
Mason’s eyes go wide as a shit-eating grin takes over his whole face. “Holy shit! Does that mean you heard the whole first book? That’s amazing. Do you get why our situation is so hot now? Can we talk about the book?”
I groan. “This isn’t a fucking book club.”
He sticks his bottom lip out, literally pouting, and I take my phone out to pause the book.
Mason takes that as an invitation to continue his pitch. “Pleeease. You’ll have to hear it anyway. You should definitely stay and listen to this one with me!”
I don’t want to give him the wrong idea, but I don’t think it matters what I do.
He’s clearly delusional. Besides, I meant what I said.
It would be easier to listen down here than hear the muffled version like I did with the first book.
“Yeah, whatever. I don’t work until closing tonight.
I have a couple of hours, so I guess I can stay down here with you. ”