His Pawn (The Manhattan Tales Book 1) (13 page)

“Mason, really.  Stop, please,” She giggled, trying to turn away from me, but my vice-like grip on her ankle kept her as I wanted her.  She squealed and whimpered, and now I was aching beneath my pants.

Finally I stopped my torment of her and she looked up at me, breathing heavily.  Her eyes shone, still laughing softly as she looked up at me.

“You’re wicked,” She said, trying to glare, but her eyes still radiated.

“You have absolutely no idea, sweetpea.”  I knew my smile was wolfish.

In that moment, I don’t know what overcame me, but I leaned over and kissed her lips softly.  I pulled away, realizing what I had done, and she looked up at me in shock.  Despite our initial meetings, I had worked very diligently to maintain the contract while keeping space between us.  It was the only way I could maintain control in my life, over her. 

I had not kissed her lips in weeks. I pulled away completely just then, cursing myself for what I’d just done, but Jill wasn’t sorry.  Before I could straighten entirely, she wrapped her arms around me and pressed her lips to mine.  I couldn’t fight it. I snaked an arm around her tightly, pressing her small body to mine, forcing her to straddle my lap as the fire was rekindled between us. Her hands moved to unfasten my crisp button-down as I pulled her sweatshirt over her head.  Once she managed my shirt from my shoulders, I forced her onto her back, never tearing my lips from her luscious mouth. 

She parted her lips, allowing my tongue to savor the taste of her and I couldn’t help but pin her wrists above her head.  My head was reeling, feeling out of control in this moment, especially now that she had her legs wrapped around my body.  I finally tore my lips away from her mouth, and passionately kissed down her body, taking each sweet nipple in my mouth. 

I felt her chest heave up and down from the pleasure as I sucked on her breasts, marking her lightly.  Branding her.  She’s
mine
, and I wanted to make this night about her.  Every moan, every squeal, every whimper of her pleasure would belong to me. 

“Get up,” I commanded, and she obeyed immediately.  She stood before me, topless.  Her dark auburn waves fell over her full breasts and the sight of her made my cock even harder, if that was even possible.  I ran my fingers up and down the silk of her porcelain skin.  I never noticed the few freckles that were scattered on her stomach, left hip bone and one above her right breast. 

Now that I was worshipping her body, I noticed them for the first time.  I planted a deep kiss on each freckle on her body, sucking lightly.  Tomorrow, she’d feel where my mouth had been this night.

“Mm, Mason,” she breathed softly as my mouth adored her body.  I remained seated in front of her as my tongue ran slowly from her belly to the middle of her beautiful chest.  My hands removed her pale pink pajama bottoms and I felt my tenderness wane as she stood there before me in sheer violet lace that hugged her hips.

“Ms. Pryor,” I said in a raspy whisper as I began kissing the saturated area of her panties.  I felt her body clench as my tongue roughly lapped at her through the lace.  My hands clenched her peach of an ass and I felt my fingers bite into her skin.

“Oh Mason… Mr. Woodward… please,” she whimpered, feeling my tongue torment her through the lace.  My fingers brushed along the apex of her thighs.  She closed her eyes and dipped her head back, but I jerked her by the hips, forcing her to look at me.

“Please, what?”  I asked as I slid her panties down her legs.  She carefully stepped out of them, and I kept them balled in my fist.  My black silk tie still draped over my shoulders to go with the matching pants that still hung on my hips.  Jill stepped back for a moment to admire every inch of my solid, toned frame and I couldn’t help but smirk as I shoved her panties into the pocket of my pants. I let her enjoy the view for a few moments and then grabbed her by the cheeks of her ass and hoisted her up.  She wrapped her legs around my waist as I carried her from the entertainment room into the dining room.

I set her down on the dining table.  I spread her legs and kissed up her inner thighs until my mouth consumed the sweet wet heat between her thighs.  My tongue lapped at her slick folds and she gasped as she threw her head back.  I hadn’t tasted her like this in weeks.  I’d denied her this pleasure in an effort to keep her disconnected from me.  I made a silent vow to myself that I’d taste her like this much more often.  My tongue flicked and lapped at her mound, enjoying the pleasurable spasming of her body as she gasped, coming right on my tongue.  I sucked all her sweet juices and then nibbled lightly on her clit.

“Oh please Mason,” she begged with ragged breathing.

“Tell me what you want, Princess,” I gave a husky order as I gripped her hips. 

  “Please, I want you…”  she answered, sounding pathetic, but it drove my cock wild.

“Say it.  Say the word,” I ordered into her ear as my fingers gripped her hips more firmly.

Her breathing was shaking as she dipped her body back into mine. 

“I want you… to…”  She seemed to struggle with the word.  I trailed a finger down her torso, from her breasts to her stomach.

“Yes…?”  I urged as I pulled her hips over the edge of the table and ground my groin between her thighs.  She groaned softly.

“I want you to fuck me,” She said just above a whisper.  “... hard.”

Fuck. Me.
Hard.
I could feel a storm suddenly roaring within me when she said that to me.

“You don’t know what you’re asking,” I said with my fingers digging into her hips again.  Before she could answer, a free hand had unfastened my belt buckle and loosened my pants.

“Yes, I do,” she looked up at me and bit down on her lower lip.  Then, she arched her back and spread her legs for me.

My blood was boiling with desire at this point. 
Oh hell.  She wants hard.  I’ll show her hard.

My pants and boxer briefs met the floor and I kicked them away.

I held her hips in a vice-like grip and plunged deep into her.  She moaned and mewled as her body spasmed from the force of my rough cock.  I held her in place on my dining table as I fucked her hard, rough. There was nothing remotely gentle about the way I took her on the table.

“Ohh Mason…”  she cried and whimpered.  I was lost in my element as I took her aggressively.  Then she became too loud I pulled her off the table, bound her hands behind her back with her own panties.  Then I sat in one of the highback chairs within the dining room and forced her on my cock.  I held her in place as I pistoned deep inside her, feeling her delicious pussy clench frantically around me.

“That’s it, baby,” I growled into her ear as I fucked her in the chair.  She orgasmed around my cock and I followed a few minutes later.  I fucked hard, but this tense, tight pussy was too much.

I stood and set her on her feet, then led her by the panties that still bound her wrists and took her into my study.  I threw everything from the desk by sliding my hand roughly over the surface.  Papers scattered all over the rug.  Then I kissed her passionately, deeply, hungrily.  It didn’t take long for my cock to grow stiff again.

“Tell me if I hurt you,” I whispered into her ear.

“Yes, Sir,” she responded with hooded, lustful eyes.  Without my word, she trailed her tongue from my chest down to my stomach.  Her lips were luscious against my heated skin.  I needed her again.  I wrapped her hair around my fist and pulled her up by her scalp and bent her over my desk.

“I’m going to take you again,” I said as my hands kneaded her beautiful, round ass.  I watched her squirm lightly in anticipation. 

              Then, my hand rang down on her porcelain skin.  I reveled in the red print of my hand on her ass.  She cried out in a gasp, surprised.  I rubbed the red area, then struck her other cheek and she let out another gasp.

“Mason…”  She was almost whining.

  “You’ve been challenging me lately, Ms. Pryor.  This is just a little reminder who's in charge.”

“Yes, yes, Sir,” she whimpered.  My hands caressed the silk of her skin before I gripped her hips sharply and then rammed my hardened length into her slick folds. 
The sounds this girl gives can set off an alarm system.

I grabbed the tie that was still slinked over my shoulders, placed it between those lips as I took her from behind.  My tempo was merciless, half waiting for her to cry out to go easier and half not caring.

“Oh Mason…  Oh please…  feels so good….”  She cried out, muffled from my tie, as her fingers curled into fists from the pleasure.  Her fingernails dug into the skin of her palm.  She cried my name over and over.  I’d never seen her so liberated before; Splayed over my desk, she was like a flower that had bloomed right before me.

I took her in every room, but one.  I reveled in the heated passion between us as she gave herself to me completely.  This night had been unlike any other night before.  The spark had returned in her eyes, and she had submitted to me, body and soul, without the usual questioning look in her eyes.  Of course I’d fucked her hard and rough in past nights, but never like
this
… and never once did she beg me to go easy or stop.

I finally carried her back to her bedroom, and tucked her under the covers.  She was exhausted and already half asleep.  I switched off the bedside light and turned to look at her.  The city lights filtered softly through the curtains, gently illuminating her features.  She looked like an angel.

Seeing her like this brought such a heaviness to my heart and I couldn’t resist.  I sat on the edge of the bed and watched her sleep. Lightly, my fingers caressed her hair and I saw that she was smiling in her sleep.  The desire to stay in the bed with her was strong, yet fleeting. Stubbornly, I pushed this feeling aside and left her to rest.

As I walked down the hall to my own master suite, I knew one thing for certain:  I was fucked.  No pun intended.

11. Jilly Bean

I awoke the next morning to an empty bed, as expected, but my heart fluttered wildly when I remembered the night before.  I still felt the lingering effects of his touch, and my head was still reeling from what happened between us.  The way his eyes blazed, the initial tenderness and then roughness of his touch... 
What had I done to spark this in him
?  I grabbed my glasses from the nightstand, slipped out of the bed and examined myself in the mirror:  mussed hair, and… bruises on my hips from where he gripped me last  night. Light bruises decorated my breasts where he kissed and sucked my skin. Liquid pools of heat rushed south at the memory of him taking me every which way, in every room.  Every room except one.

My phone vibed at that instant, tearing me away from the examination of my reflection.  It was Mason, and my heart swelled.

“Hi,” I smiled into the phone.

“Good morning,” his voice sounded much less stern than usual.  “I was just calling to check on you.  Did you sleep well?”

  “I’m great.  Really great,” I answered, perching on the edge of the bed.  “How are you?”

“Average morning; A client cancelled so I had a minute to check on you.”  I just loved the way he sounded on the phone this morning.  He’d never called to check on me the morning after before like this.

“Do you think you’ll be home regular time tonight?”  I asked.  I sensed that he wanted to say something due to the sudden awkward silence on his end.

“Most likely,” There was another pause of silence.  “I may have to stay on the West End.”

I squeezed my eyes shut in that moment, hearing him say this.  He was shutting me out again.

“Mason please, it’s only me, Jill.  Remember?  It’s just me, the girl you-”

  “I know exactly who you are,” Mason answered with a taciturn note in his voice.

So this was his real reason for calling.  He’d been wondering if he was too rough?  I felt the tender bruises on my hips.  Yes, he was very rough at times, especially when he had me splayed over the dining table…  I wanted him again and again.

“You were perfect,” I replied.  “I want it again and again.”

“Ms. Pryor,” Mason warned, egging me to tell the truth.  He seemed convinced that he was more than I could handle.

“Mr. Woodward,” I retorted.  I waited for his warning for my haughty tone, but he said nothing so I added, “I loved every minute of it.  I’m not a porcelain doll. I never felt so satiated in my life.”  I always knew he was holding back from me, and that was understandable because I had been inexperienced but… that was weeks ago…  The air suddenly seemed to shift as I said this.

“Very good, Jilly Bean.  I’ll see you tonight then,” There was something tender, yet dark in his tone.  Then the line was empty.  My heart accelerated at the desire in his voice.

My phone vibed again and I looked down, expecting Mason to be calling me again with instructions, but instead, it was Elyse.  I answered immediately.

“Hey,” I answered with a grin.

“Hey girl, guess what!”  She was giddy with excitement.

“What is it?”  I asked as I leafed through my seemingly endless wardrobe.

“Oh, I can’t tell you over the phone.  I want to tell you in person.  What are you doing today?”

“I have classes today.  Are you working today?”  I asked as I picked out a plum colored silk top.

“I go in at four,” she answered.  “My hours got cut again but that’s not my news.  I can meet you on the campus.”

“Alright.  Meet me by the library around two, because I have to get some research for an economics paper.”

“What’s it about?  Just interview your sugar daddy for his input,” Elyse responded with a snarky tone.  I dropped the boots I’d been holding when she said that.

“Elyse!”  I gasped.  “He is NOT my sugar daddy!”  I had to lower my voice because I knew Mrs. O’Malley could have heard that.

“Relajate, chica.  I was only joking,” she laughs.

“You’re hilarious,” I answered drily. 
If she only knew…

“I’ll see you at two. I gotta go!” 

****

I went through the usual Tuesday routine that I had fallen into since starting my new semester.  At two sharp, I found Elyse walking through the university library doors.  I grinned from the wooden table I’d been sitting at and waved to her.  She speed walked toward me with a huge grin plastered on her face.  I always loved seeing that smile.

“So?” I asked as she plopped down beside me at the table.

She beamed and waved a paper in my face.  I took the paper and looked down at it.  It was a receipt from the university registrar with a class schedule.

“I’m back in school!”  She tossed her black hair over her shoulder.  “My dad convinced me when I got the acceptance letter.  I told you he was trying to push me into finishing what I started.  He agreed to co sign on the loans so I could go back. ”

“So that’s the real reason you claimed school wasn’t your deal,” I arched a brow.  “Money.”

She shrugged.  “That and motivation… I felt stuck in a rut.  I didn’t say anything right away because I felt intrusive when he co signed the loan… it felt really weird at first.”

  “I can understand that,” I answered. I thought about Mason’s contract. 
Do I ever...

  “My major is journalism,” she beamed, staring down at her course schedule.  “Maybe someday I can get a job with the Times or some popular magazine.  I’ll write about anything if  they just give me a job!”

“I thought you wanted to open a community center with me someday?”  I grinned. 

  “I think my articles will eventually bring awareness to the need for community centers, helping kids and families in need…”  She looked at me squarely.  Wow, she was really passionate about this.  I was ecstatic for her.  I wrapped my arms around her tightly.

“I’m so excited for you, Ly.” 

  “So how’s your rich stud?”  She asked, folding and tucking her registrar papers into her bold red handbag.

My cheeks flared.  “Good, but he’s not
my
stud.  I don’t want to talk about that here.”

Actually, there was so much I wanted to tell her.  I fixated on my textbook, highlighting furiously and not paying attention to what I was actually marking. I couldn’t talk about my dynamics with Mason, even if I wanted to… I tried to give her a confident smile, but I could tell from her scrutinizing stare that she wasn’t buying it.  Elyse was too intuitive.  At this moment, I felt my phone vibe with a text message, I looked down to see that I had one message from Mason.

“Ok.  I have to go get ready for work.  I’ll call you tomorrow.  Later, babe.”  She shrugged and then tossed me a half-eaten pack of starburst.  I grinned at her.

“Seriously, I want to see your new pad,” she said as she began walking away.

  “I’ll talk to him about it,” I answered, hesitantly.  Mason never told me I couldn’t bring anybody over to his home, but I assumed I already knew what his answer would be since I had to sign that confidentiality agreement.

I watched my best friend walk out of the library, wishing I could confide in her more.  Then, I read the message Mason left me, assuming it would be to say he would be home late, but my heart dropped when I read the message.

  Mason:  I’m taking a flight to Mumbai tonight.  My grandmother passed away.  I will be gone a few days.

I instantly sent him a message
.

I am so sorry for your loss.  I am here if you need anything. 

 
I wanted to tell him that I’d miss him, because I would-
badly,
but I didn’t know how he’d react to something like that. 

  Mason:  Don’t be.  It will be a boring affair.  The best part will be the food.

My stomach churned at the thought of curry dishes.  I enjoyed Indian food almost as much as Mason enjoyed sushi.  The one and only time I had tried Indian food was from a run-down takeout restaurant and I spent the night puking in the bathroom from food poisoning.  Mason, however, loved the food from his mother’s country.

I didn’t know whether I should be sorry for Mason or concerned.  I know that his text message could have appeared to be insensitive, but he hardly knew his grandmother, and I know he wants little, if nothing, to do with his family.  There are several things I know about Mason Woodward’s family.  These might be things that most people don’t know, because he never talks about his family or his personal history.

Even in the few expose’s that journalists have written about their interviews with him, he’s never mentioned his family from India or even from the United Kingdom. He always kept the interviews directly on point with business and company dynamics.  I know these things because he has confided in my family in bits and pieces over the years when he was often at our apartment, eating dinner with us.

I know that Mason’s mother is the daughter of a very influential Marawis native who owns a large textile empire.  Her father was a wealthy English businessman who was coaxed into marrying for power and money, just as she would be sent to London to marry Mason’s father for the same reasons.  These days, he won’t discuss his family with me at all, but I know not to ask.    When I first connected with Mason weeks ago, I thought the broken friendship between him and my brother had something to do with why he’d become so cold and distant. 

The more time I spend with Mason, the more I see that his family, especially his father, has helped to shape the apathetic and detached man he’d become.   Over the last few weeks, I’ve often wished he could just step away from all of it and be the Mason I once knew:  Genuine, protective, compassionate. I used to trust him with my life.

I still do…

****

5 years ago…

  “Hey Jilly Bean, we’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

I looked up from beneath my Chanel frames to see Paisley, Vera, and Hazel staring down at me with sugary sweet smiles.  They’d been followers of Nicole Balinski, the mean girl in my private Catholic High School who had made my life a living hell most days.  I remembered when she snapped my old, cheap frames in half, and how they all giggled.  I’d wanted to keep it all a secret because I was so humiliated. 

I’d gone home, feeling sick with grief, and hid in my bedroom, but Mason dragged the truth out of me and took me to buy new designer frames.  After that day, Nicole Balinski disappeared from my life for reasons unknown. 

Now, her minions were staring down at me in the school library while I was desperately trying to cram for an exam.  They looked so chic with their designer bags, expensive shoes, and perfect hair.  Even their stockings must have cost more than my life at that point.  I was an outsider, with a few acquaintances, but I secretly wished I was like them.

“Are you coming to Tucker’s party tonight?”  Hazel, the redhead, asked me.  She smoothed a perfectly sleek strand of hair over her shoulder and smiled down at me.

I blinked up at them as I removed my headphones. I loved playing Pink Floyd while I studied.

“On a school night?”  I asked stupidly, knowing that these kids still partied on a Thursday night.  Most of these students were given good grades because their parents donated huge sums of money and raised hell if their spawn didn’t receive anything above a B.  That was not my life.  My brother couldn’t afford those donations, or even those threats.  He could barely pay my tuition.

“Oh my God.  You’re right, she’s so cute.  We should adopt her,” Vera exclaimed as though she were cooing over a puppy and not an eighteen year old Senior in high school. 
What?

“So are you going to be there?”  Hazel prompted further.

“I don’t know.  My English lit exam is tomorrow.  I really need an A,” I explained hesitantly.  I’d wanted these girls to like me for the past three years, and it was the second half of my senior year in High School. 
Now
they wanted to be nice?

“It’s just a little get-together including a few hot guys.  Maybe after, we will give you a makeover.  You would look so good with a makeover.  You could get the attention of that hot Woodward guy that we see you with sometimes.”

I scrunched my nose, despite the flutters in my chest at the thought. 
Ugh.  Get a grip.  It’s Mason.
  The older I got, the more I noticed how hot he was. I was a red-blooded teenage girl. It wasn’t just his incredibly good looks that got my hormones going, but his entire demeanor, and the way he carried himself.  I tried to convince myself that he was just another brother to me.

On the day of my eighteenth birthday,  I became painfully aware that I’d developed a little crush on him.  Alright, it was a big crush.  But he had a girlfriend and it was very serious. 
No.  No. No.

“What are you listening to?”  Paisley finally spoke up, fluffing her perfect, dark curls with one manicured hand.

I glanced down at my headphones, which faintly blasted because I’d never shut off the music.  “Dark Side of the Moon.”