Entwined Secrets (7 page)

Yet, until now, I’ve been mistaken. I thought I knew what it meant to hear a man growl. Those other men in my life? They seem more like purring kittens compared to what I’m hearing now. Mason’s growl is ragged and doesn’t stop. Kind of like an idling chainsaw, but growing louder the more aroused he becomes. It doesn’t sound human, or at least it’s not a growl a person should be able to make. Not without tearing their vocal cords.

That’s how Mason sounds right now, leaning over me from behind. His mouth is directly beside my ear, amplifying the volume as he takes ownership of me. I can’t see his face, but I can tell his teeth are clenched.

I reach back with one hand, still bracing myself against the glass shower door, and stroke his flank encouragingly. I grab the back of his leg and pull him into me a little further. Let him know that I want this. That he can drive even harder if he likes. Mason does, parting my lips with renewed vigor.

Most men would have faltered by now and softened, which is perfectly normal and even expected. Not this time. Mason is a different man. No.
Man
isn’t the right word anymore. He’s a rutting animal. He’s having his way with my body, bending me over like a woman. Keeping me in this position until he’s finished.

A hand reaches into my hair and clenches into a fist. Mason pulls my head back, causing me to gasp out loud, but that’s not all. I erupt again. My body clearly wants this, craves the domination, as the orgasm unexpectedly rips through me. Followed by, of course, the inevitable vision that comes with my release.

It’s more lucid this time, but not visual. In fact, it’s not really a vision per se. It’s more… tactile. Mason doesn’t feel like himself anymore. His muscles ripple in my hand. The hair on his leg stops being soft and becomes coarse. It even seems to grow beneath my hand, but that’s impossible. I can’t confirm it by looking. My eyes are clenched shut.

My release continues without stopping. If I had any difficulty taking Mason in his engorged state before, I don’t anymore. I’ve stretched around him as he keeps thrusting, slapping against the back of my legs.

The aftershocks of Mason’s release haven’t stopped either. I can feel him spurting out of himself inside me, making sure I get every last drop. I love him for staking his claim on me. Marking my body as his property and ruining me for anybody else.

Mason pulls me off the glass door and takes us both backward against the shower wall. He pulls my body against his chest, still inside of me from behind, and braces his feet against the bottom of the basin, lowering his height so I can stand naturally as he wraps his arms around me.

My orgasm has stilled, but not the rough feeling of his arms. It’s hard to see clearly with the shower water in my eyes, but his forearms seem darker than before. Hairier. No, I can see that I’m wrong. It’s gone a moment later, no doubt remnants of my orgasmic vision. Either that, or Mason is transforming before my eyes, which is ridiculous.

He slumps down to the shower floor and takes me with him. We crumple into each other, spent, as Mason slips out of me. I turn into his body and lean against his chest, my head against his tattoo.

I can hear his heart is pounding as Mason keeps his arms around me, muscles still engaged. He’s not letting go, but I don’t want him to. This is exactly where I want to be, motionless with him under the warm water.

“Jess, that was—”

“Amazing,” I interrupt.

“No, I mean… I might have caught you off guard. I wasn’t my… usual self.”

“Mason, I don’t mind. It surprised me, but I loved it, in case you couldn’t tell.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure. That was exactly what I wanted. Needed.”

“I’m so glad to hear you say that. I’ve been holding back. I wasn’t sure how you would react to… that side of me.”

I look up at Mason and stroke the side of his face.

“If that’s the dark side you’ve been warning me about, you can stop worrying. Let it out anytime. This girl doesn’t frighten easily.”

I want to assure Mason that everything’s all right. I stretch up to kiss him and then slump back on his embrace. We stay there until the warm water runs out and then Mason dries me off with a towel. He’s so attentive, reverential, even, gently dabbing all the water off my body.

“I’ve never met anybody like you before, Jess. Somebody who wasn’t put off by how I can get in the moment.”

This was a huge deal for Mason. More than I first realized. It makes me wonder about his past for the first time. Perhaps I should have thought about that sooner, but I’m thinking about it now. This feral side of his personality. How has he been received before? We all have pasts.

“Remember when I told you that I wouldn’t judge your secrets if you didn’t judge mine? I meant it.”

I kiss him again. I can’t seem to stop doing that now. His face turns introspective.

“It’s just… I’m used to being circumspect about this side of who I am,” Mason admits. “It’s never been received so… enthusiastically before. I can’t tell you how exciting that is for me.”

“Oh, I think you showed me.”

That actually makes Mason blush. He really isn’t used to cutting loose and being accepted at the same time.

“Don’t worry,” I say. “I’ve never had a guy go feral on me like that before. Not somebody I care about, at any rate. It’s exciting for me too. Exhausting, but exciting.”

Mason gathers me up in his arms. He lifts me off the ground into a kiss. I barely have enough time to throw an arm around his shoulder to steady myself.

He’s overcome. I am too. Mason keeps kissing me, elated and passionate, as he keeps me lifted off the ground. I can feel him growing rigid again through the towel he wrapped around his waist.

Gods, he can already go again. So can I, to be honest, but I have to work today. Putting myself together in time is going to be a small miracle.

Mason comes up for air first. Flush with blood and heady with emotion.

“I care about you too.”

I reach out and gently caress his ear. I don’t want this moment to end, but I’m needed elsewhere.

“I’m glad the feeling is mutual, but I’m going to need your help now. Especially if I’m going to make work on time.”

“Of course. Name it. Anything.”

Guys can be so accommodating after getting what they want. Still, there’s a hint of disappointment in his voice. He wants a longer morning with me, and I feel the same way.

“Find me some clean clothes? Anything will do. I can’t afford to be fussy at this point.”

Mason puts me together in record time. I paint my face and do my hair in the mirror as he dresses me. He even finds the time to throw a peanut butter and jam sandwich together, along with a juice and fresh apple, all inside a paper bag.

Mason carries my bicycle downstairs as I tie my shoelaces, and then he sees me off at the door, wearing a towel and little else. I can get used to being treated this way.

“Hold that pose until I get home,” I tell him.

“I’ll do my best.”

I pedal like a demon to work. I took the job to pass the time, but it’s still important to me that I can be counted on. The craft studio isn’t far, but distant enough that I have to hustle to get there on time. When I round the last corner, Sylvia is already there ahead of me. She’s unlocking the door, but stops when she sees me pull up.

“Sylvia. I wasn’t expecting you today. Is everything all right?” I ask.

Mason’s sister is taller than me by a few inches. Mid-thirties, like Mason, with luxurious, long black hair. Attractive and extremely fit for a single mom. Much less curvaceous than me, but she wears it well. I realize now that she and Mason have the same brown eyes. Albeit less warm on Sylvia, harsher, to match her personality.

I definitely don’t want to get on her bad side.

It’s never been directed at me, but I’ve heard Sylvia cuss people out on the phone. Like, bite their head off cussing. Whatever reason she likes me, I thank it. It’s rare to see her at the studio this early. She normally only comes by to pick up Piper.

I can’t help but notice that Sylvia is looking more disheveled than usual. Not in a bad way, just ruffled.

“Everything is perfect. Mason called me. Said you might be late. That it was his fault,” she says with a knowing smile.

“That was kind of him. He didn’t have to do that,” I say, still breathing heavily from the bike ride.

“I hope he’s not running you too ragged,” she says, raising an eyebrow as she opens the door for me.

“Not at all. He’s been a model houseguest.”

No point in denying it. I get the feeling that brother and sister have already talked about me. I walk inside the offered door.

“It’s true, he’s always been a gentleman,” Sylvia adds, “but to a point.”

Yikes. Am I really having this conversation with my boss about her brother? It’s getting more personal by the moment. I decide to change the subject.

“So what brings you to the studio today?” I ask cheerfully.

“You. I wanted a chance to talk in person before the children start to arrive.”

Interesting. Sylvia has given me every impression that she’s totally okay with Mason and I dating… so far. We haven’t really talked about it. Perhaps today we do.

“Are you happy here, Jess?” she asks me in a serious tone.

That was unexpected. Not wanting to appear indecisive, I answer right away.

“I am. While I’m sure everybody who applies for a job like this claims they like kids, I genuinely do. I get how they think. The messiness of their minds. Painting is a perfect way to express that messiness. And that enjoyment extends to Piper as well. She never puts on airs. Or acts like her mother owns the studio.“

“Good to know. I’m glad she’s still humble.”

So stern. So unlike Mason. I can only imagine what Sylvia is like as a mother. I decide to sing her daughter’s praises. You can never go wrong complimenting the boss’s daughter, and it’s not like I have to exaggerate.

“In many ways, I understand Piper most of all. She has an eye for detail and real talent. She paints like it’s in her blood.”

That gets Sylvia’s attention.

“I gather Mason told you about our parents?”

“A little. He told me about your childhood, traveling the world with two art historians for parents.”

Sylvia takes a moment to process that information before replying.

“Art historians,” she repeats, as if confirming that statement to herself. “Yes, I suppose that’s one way of putting it.”

That was cagey. I feel like Sylvia is coming around to a point, but I have no idea what that might be. What is she playing at today?

“My parents are art appraisers. In fact, handling their international affairs is what I do for a living. Running the family business on this continent, at least. They’re in Europe right now. That leaves me with all the shipping and receiving work.”

“Sounds stressful.”

This is the most Sylvia has ever talked to me about her life outside of the studio.

“Nothing I can’t handle. It’s tedious. Lots of paperwork. But their appraisal skills are in high demand. People often send them entire collections from all over the world. The worth of a painting is usually set by the word of my parents alone.”

Sylvia raises a hand to her mouth, as if stopping herself from continuing.

“But that’s not why I’m came by today,” she continues, “or why I asked if you’re happy.”

“Mason?” I ask.

“Mason. I know you have ties to the city. Girlfriends who have come to visit you occasionally.”

She means Candice and Saffron. My mentors only look like girlfriends. They’re actually much older than me.

“I’ve only met them once,” Sylvia continues. “Two of them came by the studio to pick you up after work. I guess what I’m saying is… I don’t know if your time here is limited or long term. I’m asking both for my sake and Mason’s.”

I nod. It’s a valid concern. As the owner of a business, she has to plan ahead. My sabbatical from the coven has lasted nine months or so. I can probably stretch it to twelve, but then I have make some serious decisions about my apprenticeship.

As for Mason’s sake, perhaps Sylvia is being a protective sister, but my intentions with him are really none of her business.

I decide to be polite for now. I’m kind of curious to see where Sylvia is going with her line of questions.

“Well, I can’t make any guarantees, if that’s what you’re wondering. Mason has been a huge surprise. I’ve never met anybody like him before.”

“From what I gather, you’ve made quite an impression on him too,” Sylvia says.

“I’d like to think so, but it’s still early. I like where we’re going. Beyond that… I can’t say. Too many variables out of my control. The speed we’re going now feels good. As for Mason, I’m not sure what I can tell you that he hasn’t already told you himself.”

Assuming they’ve talked about me, of course.

My assumption seems to amuse Sylvia. She smiles to herself, but then discards the thought in favor of another.

“My brother is a wanderer. A loner. He never stays in one place for very long.”

“So he’s told me.”

“No. You don’t understand. He’s been here for ten days.”