Chapter 2 #3
I frown, rolling my eyes. “Like what?” I’m aware I am playing directly into his hands.
He has me right where he wants me. Our faces are only millimetres apart, and with each passing second, I can see him starting to relent. His fingers clench around my waist, then instantly smooth over the fabric. I sway on the spot, my eyes fluttering closed as he inches in closer.
“Drunk,” he breathes out across my lips. He pauses, taking a deep breath. “Come on, out.”
He nods his head in the direction of the apartment that stands before me. Only it’s not an apartment like I first thought. No, we are standing in the foyer of the penthouse. It’s enormous, rich… It’s so him.
Stepping out after Mason, my eyes are immediately captivated by the floor-to-ceiling windows that give way to the most incredible view of the city. Like a moth drawn to a flame, my feet carry me on their own accord, lost in the visual sensation before me.
“It looks different from up here. Lit up in its slumber.” I speak my mind, forgetting where I am and the man at my back. I spin, seeking him out, only to find him watching me with an intense fascination. “It’s like I’m seeing it for the first time.”
“Yeah,” he says, his throat working on a swallow as his brows pull in farther.
My eyes scan the rest of the room, only confirming my thoughts that Mason is a lot richer than I first thought, and judging by the look in his eye, maybe—for some reason—he doesn’t see the beauty in the world that surrounds him.
Large, grey sectional sofas surround the television that’s mounted on the wall. Magazines litter a rectangular padded footstool that sits on a rug in the centre.
A dining table is on the opposite side of the room, a large open space laying bare between the two areas. It would be the most beautiful spot to dance in as the city looked on.
“It’s beautiful, Mason,” I tell him.
“Thank you,” he says in earnest as he approaches me. “Would you like a drink?”
“Not of alcohol.” I waggle my eyebrows at him.
“Ah, of course. Wouldn’t want you intoxicated now, would we?”
I smile wide, feeling my dimple pop in my cheek. “Absolutely not. Water. Lots of water, please.”
He laughs as he leaves me, and I follow after him through to the state-of-the-art kitchen. He busies himself in the cupboards as I hop up onto the kitchen island, the cool marble teasing my bare thighs.
Handing me my water, he uses his hips to widen my legs, stepping between them and giving me a look that dares me to challenge him on the move. I lick my lips slowly, giving him the best come-fuck-me look I can muster.
I hardly know this man, yet he’s making me act more brazen than I have in years—maybe even ever. I don’t know what it is, but I’m drawn to him.
Reaching up, I run my finger across his split lip. He winces slightly, darting his tongue out across my finger.
“I’m sorry about Joey. Elliot already chased him off tonight,” I admit.
“He did?” Mason looks surprised but wears a knowing smirk.
“Yup, testosterone-filled teenage boys,” I say, shaking my head.
He smiles up at me, his hands sliding up my thighs to grasp my hips. “What is it you do for a living?”
“I’m a dancer. I own my own studio and gym.”
“In the city?”
“Yeah, in the city.” I smile as his brows rise in surprise. I love being able to tell people that at the age of twenty-eight, I own my own business. Pride spreads through me.
“How long have you been in London?” he asks with genuine interest.
“Since university. I moved here with Lucy in my first year. I lived with the girls for a while after that, but when I eventually opened the studio, I found myself a little place on my own so that I could be closer.”
“The girls?” he asks, circling his thumbs over my hip bones.
“Lucy, you met her tonight and Megan, my two best friends. We shared a two-bed for four years whilst we studied and then found our feet after. Took turns on the futon.” I grin as the memories of our uni days flash in my mind.
“They didn’t want to move with you?”
“What? To my one bed, one bathroom.” I laugh, pushing back on his chest as I look around at the dark grey units. “This place is beautiful, although I’d say my apartment is a little cosier.”
He studies the room around him as if trying to see it from my eyes.
“What do you do for a living?” I ask. “Where does all of this come from?”
“Once upon a time, my parents. We’ve tripled our fathers’ empire in the last five years,” he declares, his own pride shining through.
“You’re close with your parents?”
His beautiful face drops, making me regret my question. “I used to be with my dad. My mum died when I was four years old.” His reply comes out robotic, expressionless, like he’s already zoned out.
I run my fingers through the hair at the base of his neck, sensing he needs the physical touch.
“I’m so sorry, Mason.”
“Please. Don’t.” His eyes bore into mine, adrenaline coursing through my veins as he pins me with his stare. Slowly, he lowers his mouth to mine, coaxing my lips into a kiss so urgent it sets my body aflame.
Grasping the backs of my knees, he pulls me so I’m sitting on the edge of the worktop, our bodies perfectly aligned. I feel his hard cock against my centre. He rolls his hips, and a shudder runs through me. His groan vibrates against my lips, and I feel it, all the way down there.
Our kiss turns desperate.
He pulls back as he bites my lip, making me moan out loud. I don’t let him go, though, my lips finding their way instinctively back to his, but he quickly forces us apart again.
“Fuck!” he yells, running his hands through his hair.
I smile up at him as he tries to compose himself. Annoyance at his lack of control evident in his stance.
“Bed. Now. You need to sleep,” he stresses.
“You need me to sleep more like… You just want me sober, don’t you, Bossman.”
He shakes his head, hands on hips.
“Where am I to sleep, Mr Mason?” I ask cheekily, hopping down from the kitchen island.
“Where the fuck do you think, Pixie?”
“Pixie?” I frown. Mason is in on this too?
His face grows serious as though just realising what he’s said.
Not wanting to kill the mood, I take off on a run from the kitchen, searching for the stairs.
I can hear him close behind me, and I flick my head around as I hit the first step, spotting him rounding the corner.
My breath catches with the excitement that lives in his eyes.
I see him smile, and then everything goes dark.
I pause mid-step, my heart hammering in my chest. Hands dust my waist as warm lips find my ear. If I didn’t already know, the sheer strength and dominance in the body at my back would tell me it’s Mason.
I can smell him, feel him, taste him on my lips.
“Too late now, angel.” He uses his body to move mine forward, and as we reach the top step, he bends, lifting me over his shoulder.
“Wait!” I squeal.
We enter the bedroom and I try to take in my surroundings, but all I can seem to focus on is the feel of his fingers as they dig into the tops of my thighs.
The room is lit up in a soft glow from the city lights beyond the windows.
Being upside down makes it impossible to make out anything else, though. “Bossman, put me down!”
I feel myself floating through the air before my back meets the soft sheets of a mattress. He hesitates only a second before lowering himself over me.
“You’re fucking beautiful,” he hums, his lips dropping into the crook of my neck.
I try to get closer, but he holds his body off of me, supporting his weight on his arms and not letting our bodies touch.
“Promise me when I’m sober—”
His head swoops down, cutting me off with a searing kiss. “I promise when you’re sober.” He smiles down at me, and my stomach flips again.
Slowly, he rises off me and leaves the room through one of the doors. I sit up quickly and look around at my surroundings, my hands fisting the silky-smooth sheets.
The bed is huge. Its plush navy headboard sits high against the white wall. There’s an ottoman at the base of the bed, a large shaggy rug covering the floor beneath it. The corner of the room is made up of floor-to-ceiling windows with double doors that give way to a wraparound balcony.
It’s beyond anything I’ve ever seen.
Mason comes back into the room from one of the two adjoining doors. He drops a T-shirt on the ottoman.
“Bed,” he demands.
Usually—like any other time in my life—I’d tell him to piss off. I mean, who does this man think he is?
But, the way he can look at me and make me feel so many things… I shut the hell up and go to the en suite to change.
I remove my dress and quickly pull the T-shirt over my head, fluffing my hair in the mirror then flattening it out again.
I take a deep breath and open the door, only to be caught completely off guard when I find Mason in nothing but a pair of white boxer briefs.
He has his back to me, his muscles flexing as he pulls back the bedsheet.
He turns, sensing my presence, his eyes dropping down the length of my body. “Come lay with me.”
And I do just that. I climb into his bed, lying on my side as his body mirrors mine. I feel the exhaustion of the past week take over my body, and my eyes grow heavy as I relax into the plush bedding.
The last thing I see as I drift off to sleep is the promise of more in the dark eyes of the beautiful man lying next to me.
I wake disoriented and confused by my surroundings. Sitting up, I look around the room until my eyes fall on the Adonis beside me.
Well, shit.
He lies on his back with one arm thrown up over his eyes, the sheet wrapped around his legs. The rest of his body is on full display.
He is magnificent.
I’m not sure I’ve ever seen a man in the flesh with such an incredible physique. Reaching out, I use my pointer finger to follow a large vein that runs the length of his forearm.
He groans but doesn’t wake, his hand coming down to rest on the comforter.
His torso is ripped with solid muscles, his chest taut. He has a light smattering of hair leading down into his boxers.
My eyes go wide when I spot his erection.
I promise when you’re sober.
I don’t know what comes over me, but I kneel beside him, slowly reaching my hand out to palm him through the thin fabric. His cock twitches at my touch, growing harder.
Oh, god! What am I doing?
I freeze, looking up into his eyes in a panic. He stares down at me with a raised brow. Reaching out, he slides a strand of hair behind my ear as if challenging me to continue.
Without a second thought, I slide his boxers from his hips and free him.
Precum glistens on the head, and I bend, my eyes locked on his as I lick the entire underside of him, then flick my tongue across the tip, tasting him.
He groans, grabbing hold of my head as I smile around him. I hollow my cheeks and draw him into my mouth, swirling my tongue across his silky-smooth skin with every bob of my head. My eyes are locked on him, unable to look away as I watch him fight for his control.
His body tenses as I take him to the back of my throat, making his abs ripple under my free hand.
Sensing him losing control, I take him deeper, suck harder, until he is pumping into my mouth relentlessly, his hands holding me where he wants me with an almost painful grip on my hair, and all I can do is take him.
“I’m going to come,” he warns.
I swallow around him, and he comes in a rush down my throat. I pull back, struggling to take all of him.
He breathes heavily, throwing his arm back over his eyes before breaking out in a deep chuckle.
I slowly pull back, my cheeks on fire from my arousal.
“Fuck. Is this a wind-up? Did Elliot pay you to do this to me?” He smiles.
I sit back in shock, my stomach turning. “You think I’m a prostitute?”
“What? No!” He reaches for me, trying to run his thumb over my chin, but I snap my head away and wipe it with my forearm.
My eyes burn as I look down at the sticky spot.
I think I’m going to be sick.
“I’ve got to go.” I start to scramble for my things.
“Wait! What? Nina, hold on a second.” He tries to untwist from the sheets, but I’m faster and make it out of the room and down the stairs before he can stop me. I rush to the elevator with my shoes and bag in hand, shimming my dress up my legs and discarding the T-shirt on the floor.
The elevator doors slide open, and I’m met with myself. I look into the mirror, tears burning behind my eyes.
All I see is her.
Just as the doors begin to close, Mason rushes forward, putting his body between them and forcing them back open.
He grabs me in a desperate hold.
“Get off me!” I yell, hiding my face from him.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” he demands. “Did Elliot fucking pay you last night?”
I snap my head up, looking straight through him. My chest feels like it’s cracking into two.
Does he honestly think that?
He can’t think that.
The first tear breaks the dam, and he releases me as if I’ve slapped him.
“Shit. Nina, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you.” He runs his hands through his hair, his eyes wild.
I slam my palms against his chest with everything inside me, pushing him back and clear of the doors.
“Leave me alone, Mason.”