Seduction (14 page)

“No problem. I'll even come back downstairs in about an hour to make sure that they're gone,” he said, sweetening the deal. Mason motioned the waitress back over and told her to send the remainder of the champagne upstairs.

Terra was still fidgety once they were inside the room. “They must have been following me,” she said, looking out the window trying to see down to the sidewalk, but their view was facing east and the entrance to the hotel was west. “I pray that no photographers were lurking around when I left the Black Door. That's the last thing I need,” she said, nearly on the verge of tears.

“Don't worry about that, because I'm sure if they had snapped your picture coming out of an erotica club, then no one would have followed you here. If you think about it, a picture in front of a club like the Black Door is much more valuable than a picture of you coming out of a hotel alone,” he said, trying to ease her nerves.

Terra hadn't thought about the situation from that angle. “Actually, that makes perfect sense,” she said, finally feeling a sense of relief.

After the bellhop brought the champagne to the room, Mason and Terra settled on the sofa and began chatting to pass the time.

“So how's the real estate business?” she asked.

“It can be hectic at times, but I do enjoy sealing the deal,” he said, smiling. “And how's the acting thing going?”

“Well, I haven't heard from my agent all week. I guess she's pissed at me for blowing my last audition.”

“What was the audition for?” he asked. He could care less about the audition, but wanted to keep her talking so that she wouldn't leave anytime soon.

“It was for a new Dove soap product. The lines were simple, but I got nervous and flubbed them.”

“Better luck next time.” He smiled.

An hour quickly swept by, and Terra said, “Do you think they're still outside?”

“No, but I'll go downstairs to make sure.”

Mason took the elevator down and checked the front of the hotel. There were no photographers in sight, and the bar was practically empty. When he got back to the room, she was standing at the window.

“Well, what's the verdict?” she asked.

“They're still camped outside, and I even saw two photographers posing as customers inside of the lobby,” he told her.

Terra fell into his arms, sobbing. “Oh, God, why can't they just leave me alone and follow someone else?”

Mason held her close and stroked the back of her hair. “Don't cry. Everything's going to be okay.” He suddenly felt bad for lying, but not bad enough to tell her the truth. He knew that if he did, she'd be out of there faster than a hummingbird in motion. Instead, he rocked her back and forth.

Terra held on to him like he was her savior. She felt safe in his arms, like nothing could hurt her as long as his strong arms were wrapped around her.

Mason felt her trembling and held her tighter. They stood like that for what seemed like hours, but it had only been a couple of minutes. Mason leaned down and kissed the top of her head. He wanted so badly to protect her from everything bad, even though he had manipulated the situation to his advantage. When she didn't shy away from that benign kiss, he kissed her forehead, and when she still didn't shy away, he leaned down closer and gently kissed her lips.

Terra didn't want to respond to him, but the chemistry between them was too powerful, and she couldn't resist, so she gave in and kissed him back.

Without taking his lips from hers, he slowly guided her toward the king-sized bed and sat her down on the comforter, all the while kissing her passionately. He stopped momentarily to remove her shoes, stockings, and leather skirt, and then resumed kissing.

She untied her halter top, and her titties sprang loose. She lay back naked on the bed and watched and waited for him to take off his clothes. His body was sheer perfection. His pectorals were chiseled, and his abdominals were rippled like an old-fashioned wash-board; but the best body part of all was his thick, ten-inch dick, which was erect and as hard as a piston. Terra felt her pussy getting wetter and wetter in anticipation of receiving his long rod.

Mason eased in between her legs and kissed her perky nipples. He then fingered the folded petals of her vagina, found her clit, and began rubbing it with his thumb and index finger.

“Oh…Baby…yes!” she moaned in between gasps for air.

Hearing her moan in ecstasy was making him hornier, and he couldn't wait any longer, so he eased the head of his penis inside her slippery canal and began slowly pumping in and out. He caressed her face and said, “Look at me.”

Terra looked into his eyes and felt a deeper connection with him. She felt like she was falling in love. She tried to fight the feeling by averting her eyes, but the pull was too strong and kept drawing her eyes back to his, and she knew at that very moment that they were not just fucking; they were making love. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him in closer, and slowly moved her hips to match his gentle thrusts. No man had ever made love to her like this—not even Professor Langston—so she closed her eyes and surrendered to the feeling. They made love for hours, until they were both exhausted and fell off to sleep.

Mason began to stir as the bright sun peeked into the window. He was holding on to something soft and cuddly, but was afraid to open his eyes. He couldn't bear the thought of waking up to another pillow. He wanted so badly to be holding Terra, but he knew there was a possibility that she had skipped out like before, leaving him caressing an inanimate object. To lessen the shock of reality, he slowly opened one eye and looked to see what he was holding. There in his arms was Terra, sound asleep. Mason smiled from ear to ear, and watched her dream. He held her a little tighter, because this time there was no way he was letting her get away.

TERRA WAS
sleeping so soundly that she dreamed she was in her own comfortable bed with the Egyptian cotton sheets and fluffy down comforter. She rolled over and opened her eyes to look at the clock on her nightstand, but the clock didn't look familiar; neither did the nightstand. Her eyes slowly scanned the room, and the instant she realized that she wasn't at home, snippets of the previous night flashed through her mind like a movie trailer playing only the best scenes. Terra remembered her and Mason making love and the memory made her tingle all over. She looked to her left and saw what appeared to be a body lying underneath the covers. She flipped back the comforter thinking that he was cuddled up sleeping, but it was only a heap of pillows. She glanced around the room, but didn't see him anywhere; the only thing she saw were clothes strewn across the floor and on the furniture. Her shoes, stockings, and skirt were at the foot of the bed; his jeans were on the side of the bed; his shirt was tossed across the arm of a chair and his shoes were kicked underneath a desk. She surveyed the aftermath, and their clothes told the story of a lustful seduction. She grabbed her halter top that was lying on top of the nightstand and tried to cover herself with it as she made her way to the bathroom.

“Good morning, Sweetheart,” Mason said, coming out of the bathroom wearing his boxers. He pulled her to him, engulfing her in a bear hug. “How'd you sleep?”

Standing there in the buff, trying to cover her breasts with the small top, she felt slightly embarrassed. “Like I was at home in my own bed,” she said.

“Yeah, I could see that you were comfortable, because when I got up to take a shower, you were snoring lightly,” he said, kissing the top of her head.

“Really? I don't normally snore.” She blushed.

“It must have been my good loving that knocked you out cold,” he teased.

“I guess I should call you Sominex,” she teased back, getting over her awkwardness and looking up at him. He was freshly shaved, and not one hair on his goatee was out of place. Her appearance on the other hand was beyond disheveled. “Let me jump in the shower and freshen up,” she said, easing out of his embrace and running her hand through her unruly hair trying to smooth it down.

Forty minutes later, Terra reemerged with a white towel wrapped around her hair, and wearing a fuzzy, hotel-monogrammed, terry-cloth robe. She had soaked her body in the Jacuzzi tub before washing her hair in the shower. She felt renewed and ready to start her day. The only thing missing was her morning latte.

“Hey, Beautiful, I didn't think you were ever coming out of there. Are you hungry?”

“As a matter of fact, I'm starving,” she said, with her stomach suddenly growling. Normally she didn't eat breakfast, but last night with their acrobatic lovemaking, she had woken up with an appetite.

He was sitting at a small, white linen–covered dining table near the window. “Come here.”

Terra walked over and saw several plates covered with silver warming domes. She sat down, looked at the exquisitely set table with china plates and crystal glassware, and said, “What have we here?”

“I didn't know what you liked, so I ordered a variety of stuff.” He took the lid off the first plate and said, “We have mixed berries, nuts, yogurt, and fresh-squeezed orange juice for a healthy start to the day.” He removed the dome off of another plate. “And for a semihealthy start, there are bagels, lox, and chive cream cheese.” He uncovered the next to last dish. “Now for the pièce de résistance”—he waved his hand over the meal for a dramatic effect—“pancakes with maple syrup, scrambled eggs, and country smoked bacon. This may not be the healthiest choice, but it sure is the tastiest. So”—he gave her a devilish grin—“what's it going to be, Ms. Benson?”

“Hmm.” She looked at each delicious meal. “I'm thinking about this one,” she said, pointing to the fattening pancakes and bacon.

“A woman after my own heart, but I would've pegged you for a yogurt and fruit type person.”

“On those rare occasions when I do eat breakfast, it is usually fruit and yogurt, but it's not every day that I get to indulge in my favorite breakfast of all time,” she said, taking a stack of the fluffy cakes. “I wish I had a latte. Then my morning would be complete,” she said, pouring syrup over the short stack.

He took the dome off of the last dish. “Your wish is my command.”

Terra looked, and in the middle of the plate was a Borders latte. “Oh, wow!” she exclaimed. “How did you know I'm crazy about the latte at Borders, and when did you go out and get it?”

“You were drinking a latte the day we met, so I called a messenger service and had one delivered especially for you.”

“Oh, Mason, that's so sweet, but how'd you know I was drinking a latte, and not a plain cup of coffee?” she asked, curious to know.

“I noticed everything about you that day, from the way the sun highlighted your hair to your perfect posture. I even noticed your Hermès tote,” he said, as if it were yesterday. “Besides, I could smell the Chai flavorings.”

Terra was flabbergasted. His attention to detail was amazing. Most men didn't know the difference between Hermès or H&M, nor could they distinguish Chai from cinnamon. She was loving this man more and more by the second. First, he saved her from the paparazzi, and then made exquisite love to her all night. Now he was making love to her taste buds. She felt like a pampered princess as she sat back and enjoyed her royal breakfast.

“If you're not busy today, I thought we'd walk over to SoHo and check out a few galleries, and then have a late lunch,” he said hopefully.

Terra couldn't remember the last time she had bopped in and out of the art galleries in SoHo, and loved the idea of discovering new artists and spending the afternoon with her new love. “I would like that very much.”

“Great. How about we leave in about fifteen minutes?” he said, polishing off the last piece of bacon.

“Sounds good,” she said, standing up to get dressed, but then she remembered the black leather miniskirt, matching halter, and red, four-inch sandals that she had worn last night. The outfit was perfect for partying, but not for gallery hopping. “I'm going to need more than fifteen minutes.”

“Why? What's wrong?” he asked, hoping she hadn't changed her mind.

“My outfit,” she said, picking the black leather skirt up off the floor.

“What's the matter with it?” he asked, seeing nothing wrong.

“Nothing if I want to look like a rocker in the middle of the day, which is not my style.” She walked over to her purse, which was sitting on the sofa, reached in and took out her cell phone. “I'm going to call my personal shopper at Bergdorf and have her pick out something more appropriate,” she told him, and hit the speed dial to the store. “Terra Benson calling for Anne Thomas,” she said, changing her tone to a more businesslike one. “Hi, Anne. Yes, I'm fine, thank you. Anne, I need for you to pull together a pair of Seven jeans with the antique denim finish, a baby-doll top, one of those cute short blazers, a pair of comfortable Tod's for walking, and a pair of oversized Gucci shades. And I'll need all of that messengered over to Hotel Gansevoort as soon as humanly possible.” She covered the mouthpiece with her hand, and asked Mason their room number. Once he gave her that information, she returned to the call. “Oh, and I'll also need a Tod's tote to match the shoes. Great! Thanks, Anne,” she said, and flipped her phone shut.

Mason was speechless. It was easy to forget that she was an heiress, because she was so down-to-earth with him, but hearing her spend what must have been close to three thousand dollars, in less than sixty seconds and all without even giving a credit card number or her sizes, brought home the reality that she was mega-rich.

An hour and a half later the bellhop was knocking on the door with lavender shopping bags from Bergdorf Goodman. Mason tipped him, and handed over the merchandise to Terra, who went into the bathroom and made a quick change from the bathrobe into street clothes.

Mason whistled the second she stepped out of the bathroom. She was beautiful in the robe, but dressed in the trendy outfit with her hair loose in soft curls, she looked like a fashion model. “Not bad.” He whistled again. “You're going to have to give that personal shopper a personal thank you from me.”

Terra blushed, and stuffed her clothes from the night before in the tote, put on her shades, and headed toward the door, but she hesitated, suddenly remembering the reason why she had spent the night in the first place. “You don't think the paparazzi are still lurking outside do you?”

Mason knew that the photographers were long gone, since they had packed up their cameras last night (unbeknown to Terra). “Don't worry, I'm more than sure that they're somewhere else, stalking another victim. Come on, Sweetheart, I'll protect you,” he said, putting his arm around her shoulders.

As they left the hotel arm in arm, they were totally unaware that someone was lurking in the shadows, snapping pictures of their every move.