The Real Mason (2 page)

A secret? If not another woman, then what? Cautious, she said, “What are you hiding?”

“Come here,” he said, making room for her on the floor. When she stayed in the chair, motionless, he shook his head as though clearing it. “Please come here.”

“Why?”

He sighed, a deep, mournful sound that clutched at her chest and made her ache. “I’d like to kiss you before you look at me totally different, can I do that?”

He wanted to kiss her? Now, when he was breaking up with her? She searched his expression, trying to catch a glimpse of his secrets. But all she saw was warmth. Mason. The man she loved and who miraculously loved her in return.

She moved to the floor and onto her knees, looking at him expectantly.

Relief softened the corners of his mouth and he reached for her. Hands slid up her back to curl around her neck. “I want something from you but you can say no. Okay?”

“Okay,” she said, wetting her suddenly dry lips with the tip of her tongue.

He smiled, his grip tightening on her neck. “Can I kiss you the way I’ve really wanted to?”

The question confused but something indefinable quickened inside her. A million questions sprang to mind but she didn’t voice them. Questions could wait, while this mysterious kiss couldn’t. “Yes.”

It was all the encouragement he needed.

He didn’t brush his mouth with hers as he’d done in the past. Didn’t tease with the tip of his tongue, waiting for her to open. Didn’t kiss her with that slow, methodical patience she’d grown used to.

The second their mouths met, she knew he was right.

This was nothing like any kiss they’d ever shared.

His lips claimed. Possessed. Slanted over hers and took everything and then some. Stunned, all she could do was clutch his shoulders as a tidal wave of desire swept her away.

She’d always desired him but this, this was something altogether different.

His grip tightened in her hair as he devoured her. And that’s exactly how she felt—devoured, taken, eaten alive. It shocked her. He’d always been so sweet, so gentle, almost asking for permission.

There was no asking now.

His tongue invaded. Captured. Taunted and teased.

She dug her nails into his shoulders and hung on for dear life as her nipples pulled tight, almost painful.

He growled low in his throat. A dark, feral sound that both terrified and excited her. He fisted her hair, a slight pleasure-filled pain prickled at her nape.

Wet, slippery heat dampened her thighs as tingles raced along her spine.

As suddenly as it started, he pulled away. Grasp tight in her hair, he yanked her head back forcing her look at him. This wasn’t gentle Mason. This was the dangerous Mason she’d sensed hints of when they’d met but never materialized. “Now do you see?”

Dizzy with lust, she fought to catch her breath. “No.”

“Damn it, Anna, I don’t want to make love to you,” he said, his voice harsh, unlike anything she’d heard before. “I want to fuck you. Claim you. Possess every inch of your body until it obeys only me.”

Fuck? Claim? Obey? He’d never spoken so crudely. Her belly dipped and her heart pounded.

Before she could speak, he delivered a hard, punishing kiss that was over before it began and made her crave so much more.

“I want to dominate you and I won’t be satisfied with anything less.”

Chapter Two

Mason fought to control the instincts that had been riding him hard as Anna’s bright blue eyes blinked up at him in total confusion. That kiss proved beyond a shadow of a doubt he made the right decision to let her go.

Now that he’d tasted a hint of her surrender, he’d never be satisfied with less.

He’d never intended to get involved with her. Never intended to fall in love, but here he was and now he had to deal with the consequences.

That day she’d rammed into his cart, he hadn’t been looking for a relationship let alone a vanilla one. If only she hadn’t been so cute and flustered with those blonde curls bouncing and flushed cheeks. Impossible to resist, she’d appealed to him on some base, primal level.

He’d asked her to coffee and the next thing he knew he’d fallen for her hook, line and sinker.

He loved her open, honest face that hid nothing. Loved her lack of artifice. She wasn’t like other women. Her smiles were genuine, her body giving. He loved her intelligence and quick wit. That hint of a stubborn streak and surprising bursts of defiance.

Only too late he realized his mistake.

She called to the Dom in him as though she were his own brand of crack.

Except Anna wasn’t in the life and he had no idea how to break it to this innocent, giving first grade teacher that he dominated women in the bedroom.

Like a selfish bastard, he’d wanted her too bad to let her go and he’d done his best to ignore the need inside him. He’d done everything in his power to be a good, vanilla boyfriend.

But that was no longer an option.

Last night had been the excruciating final straw. Although not for the reasons she thought.

She’d loved him so openly, so sweetly vulnerable, he’d fought the urge not to start pushing her. Demanding. Taking.

Instead of getting easier, it was getting harder and harder to ignore his impulses.

He’d thought long and hard about putting the desire to dominate her aside but in the end it would destroy them. The need was too strong. And as sappy as it sounded, he loved her too damn much to deceive her any longer.

That left one choice—let her go.

She still stared at him as though he’d grown a second head so he gentled his hold, rubbing his thumb along the corner of her jaw. “Are you confused?”

She nodded.

“Do you understand what I mean?” He asked the question already knowing the answer.

“No,” she said in a soft voice.

“Shall I explain?” The next words lodged in his throat but he forced them out. “Or should I leave now?”

The delicate cords of her throat worked as she swallowed. Her pulse hammered against his thumb. Normally he’d take that as a sign of excitement mixed with the perfect amount of fear, exactly where he wanted a sub to be.

But with Anna, he couldn’t be sure it wasn’t only fear so he dropped his hand.

Releasing her, both literally and figuratively.

“Please explain,” she said.

“Here, let’s sit on the couch.” Very carefully, he encircled her biceps and pulled her to the antique sofa. She’d inherited the house and relic furniture in it from her grandmother and told him she’d never gotten around to giving it a modern makeover. He’d never had the heart to tell her the feminine, old-fashioned furniture suited her to a T.

He nestled her into the corner and smoothed her skirt. She twitched under his palms and he silently cursed. Forcing himself to give her space, he sat on the opposite side of the chaise, careful not to touch her. He’d probably never touch that smooth, pale skin again. He tried not to think about the loss.

He took a deep breath and plunged in. “Do you know anything about BDSM?”

A shake of the head.

With the internet, it was rare these days to find someone who didn’t have at least a passing knowledge of the term but it didn’t surprise him. He rested his elbows on his knees and clasped his hands loosely. “It stands for bondage, dominance and submission, and sadism and masochism.”

Gaze going wide, she shrank into the corner of the sofa as though she wanted to disappear.

Quickly, he spoke so she didn’t bolt from the room and call the cops on him. “Don’t panic, I’m not a sadist. I like dominance and submission. Although it’s not uncommon for bondage and a little pain and punishment to go along with those.” He refused to sugarcoat it.

She rubbed her temple. “What are you saying?”

“I’m what’s called a dominant. I control women sexually. Submissive women who
want
to give up control. Despite how it might appear on the surface, the Dom/sub power exchange is never about force. It’s always consensual.” Worry knotted in his gut. He didn’t have much experience explaining this to someone with no understanding of the life. He hated the way it must sound.

She frowned and he continued before too many horror images filled her mind. “I know this is hard to understand and I’m sorry I never told you. I usually only date women who know what I am.”

“So you only date women…” She cleared her throat. “Um, like you?”

“In my thirty-two years, other than a girl or two in high school, you’re my only vanilla relationship. I probably shouldn’t have gotten involved with you. My only excuse was I couldn’t resist.” His knuckles turned white. “I didn’t anticipate falling so fast and by the time it hit me, I was already in too deep. I thought I could put it aside. Unfortunately, I was wrong. It’s too hard to be with you when my instincts are telling me to take what belongs to me.”

A tiny tremor shook her shoulders and she wrapped her arms around her chest, plumping her breasts to expose soft flesh. Those breasts he’d forced himself to treat gently when his mind had filled with ways to tease and torment until she screamed.

“And you feel this way about me?” Her quiet voice pulled him from his thoughts.

“Yes, I do.”

“And what would it entail?” Blonde curls bounced as she cocked her head to the side. Expression a mix of curiosity and caution.

He cleared his throat. “That depends.”

“On what?”

He looked into her eyes and let her really see what he’d kept locked inside. “On what I want from you at that given time.”

“Can you give me an example?” She nibbled pensively on her bottom lip.

“I believe I just did,” he said, putting that edge in his voice he always repressed around her. “Tell me, Anna, when I kissed you, what was different?”

The color rose higher, deepened. She smoothed the fabric of her dress. “I’m not sure.”

He leaned over and grasped her knee, hard enough for her to feel the implied meaning behind the gesture. “A submissive girl doesn’t get to evade. A submissive girl has no other choice but to answer the question. That’s the difference.”

“Oh!” Her hand flew to her chest as though trying to calm a rapidly beating heart.

Resigned, he released his hold. “I should go.”

She didn’t move, didn’t speak, only stared down at her long print skirt.

The desire to rip off those concealing clothes and expose her settled in his gut. He ignored it, like he’d ignored all his instincts to strip her down both physically and mentally.

Christ, what a mess. He rose from the couch. “I’m sorry, this is my fault. My responsibility. My only excuse is that as much as I need this, I need you just as badly. If there was any way to let it go instead of you, I would. But I don’t think that’s possible. I’ve been failing miserably.”

Still she remained silent.

Jaw clenched, he fought the desire to demand she tell him everything going on in that brain of hers. That wasn’t an option. He leaned down, running his fingers through the silky strands of her hair one last time before placing a soft kiss on the crown of her head. “Take care of yourself.”

He straightened, turning toward the door to let himself out.

“Wait.” The word sharp.

He glanced over his shoulder.

Pink tongue darting to wet her bottom lip, she twisted her hands. “I want to try it.”

His chest squeezed. Of course she’d say that. He swung around and sat on the couch, grasping those nervous hands in his. “Anna, this isn’t like trying a meal at a restaurant.”

She pulled away. “I know that.”

“The things I want, they’re not easy. You have to want it, not do it out of fear or obligation.”

Eyes clouded with a mess of emotions met his. “It’s not obligation. That kiss…it did something to me.”

More than anything in this world, he wanted to believe. To rush in and agree to give it a try but he couldn’t do that. He’d already caused enough damage, he couldn’t inflict more. He smiled, a gentle, understanding smile. “Anna, that was just a kiss. Innocent compared to the things I’d explore with you.”

“Please,” she said, her voice trembling. “Can we at least try? Aren’t we worth it? We have such so much in common, we’re great together and we’re already in love. Isn’t that worth a night?”

He pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. Since he’d met her, he’d avoided all things BDSM related. It’d been so long he’d almost forgotten how to think like a Dom. Part of the responsibility was brutal honesty, both with himself and his submissive.

And he wasn’t being honest.

He was afraid. Afraid to know. Afraid to hope. Afraid to risk it and ruin her perception of him forever.

It was ego.

He met her gaze. “It would be easy for me to sweep you off your feet and seduce you into what I want. But I can’t do that. You’re too important.”

“But, it’s my decision to make.”

He tucked a wayward curl behind her ear. “Rule number one, it’s my decision. Not yours.”

A flash of irritation crossed over her expression. “I get no say?”

“It depends.”

“On what?” she shot back, tone rising.

He gave her a hard-eyed, stony stare. “On if I say you get a choice in the matter. On this you don’t and that’s my final word.”

She crossed her arms and legs. Completely closed off to him. “Well, since you’re breaking up with me, I don’t have to abide by your rules, now do I?”

He blinked then burst out laughing, surprised he still could given the circumstances. This was one of the things he loved about her—just when she convinced him she was all docile, she’d turn defiant on him. God wouldn’t he have fun making her pay for that smart mouth. “I guess you’ve got me there, don’t you?”

A tilt of that stubborn chin. “Yes, I do.”

Right then and there he put his ego and his fear aside. It was worth the risk and she did have some submissive characteristics. If she didn’t, he wouldn’t be attracted to her in the first place. But that didn’t change his need to protect her. He would not seduce her.

She needed to come to him with eyes wide open.

He thought for a couple of minutes, getting in touch with that dominant part of himself he’d ignored. Finally, he hit upon a plan he could live with. “Go get me a pen and a piece of paper.”