The Real Mason (3 page)

She opened her mouth but he raised a brow and whatever she was about to say stalled in her throat.

“Second rule, no questions. Just do as you’re told.”

Her lips pursed and blue fire flashed in her gaze but she got up. Obeyed. Pleased, he watched the sway of her ass as she stomped away.

Maybe this could work after all.

A minute later she returned with a pencil and a pad of paper. Having dug through her junk drawer numerous times, he knew there were plenty of pens to choose from, which meant the pencil was on purpose. A small little
fuck you
.

He hid his smile and started writing.

With a strange mix of excitement and irritation, Anna watched Mason scribbling what looked a lot like a list on the pad of paper. She couldn’t deny her shock when he’d made his confession, couldn’t deny at first blush it sounded obscene. Perverted. Wrong.

But as he’d kept talking, a shift occurred and intrigue replaced shock. And that kiss affected her,
he
affected her. Every time he looked at her in that certain way, she shivered even while her belly heated.

Damn it, she refused to give up. Not until she knew for certain she couldn’t do this whole submission thing. She had nothing to lose and everything to gain. She didn’t care what it took.

She’d “bondage” herself to his car if she had to.

Finally, he stopped writing and tore the piece of paper from the pad and handed it to her.

She took it, skimming down the list written in his strong, bold strokes. It looked like a bunch of books and websites. “Are you giving me a reading list?”

“Yes.” A sharp nod. Firm expression a contrast to the amusement dancing in his eyes. “You’re right, you are worth it. We’ll give this a try.”

Happiness bloomed where that tiny kernel of hope sat.
Thank goodness.

He held up a hand. “Before you get too excited, this little experiment starts now. I’m making the rules. This is not a negotiation. Do you understand?”

“Yes.” The change in his attitude would take some getting used to but she was positive she liked it—the command in his demeanor exactly what pulled at her when she’d first met him. The missing piece she’d been attracted to but unable to identify.

His gaze narrowed as though assessing her response. “Good. I know you have a lot of stuff going on with school right now and I refuse to add too much stress to your hectic schedule.”

She smiled. It was just like Mason to take her parent-teacher conferences this week into consideration. “Thank you.”

He laughed, reclining against the high back of the sofa. “You’d best hear the rest of what I have to say before you go thanking me.”

“I’m listening,” she said and for some reason heat spread over her chest.

“Over the next two weeks you’re going to read every book and visit every website I’ve listed. The content and subject matter range from mild to extreme. I’m not interested in all the things you’ll read about, and I’ve done that on purpose. The point of this exercise isn’t about me, it’s about
you
. I want you put yourself in those situations and think about how you’d feel in them. Make sense?”

She glanced down at the paper clutched in her hands. The list of four books and six websites, doable in the two weeks he’d outlined. “Yes, that won’t be a problem.”

“Good,” he said, stood and slid his keys from his pocket.

“Where are you going?” A moment of unexpected panic flitted through her. They’d agreed to give this a try, he couldn’t leave.

“You need to think about what you’re getting into without distractions,” he said, looking down at her. “You and I won’t be seeing each other over the next two weeks. If after that time you still want to explore domination and submission, come to my house Saturday, the fourteenth, at seven o’clock.”

“But—”

He cut her off with a stern frown. “Not a negotiation.”

She shut her mouth.

“Good girl.” Those two little words made her quiver. How peculiar.

“If you decide not to come, I understand and wish you well.” The keys jangled, the sound loud in the quite room. “If you do, I will give you a demonstration of what you’ve read. At the end of the night, you will decide if you want to continue or say goodbye. Understood?”

She gulped. Two weeks without seeing him? The protest swelled in her throat but one look at the hard, determined set of his jaw told her arguing was futile. She accepted her fate. “Yes, Mason.”

A sly, mischievous gleam she’d never seen lit his gaze. “If you show, don’t be late, because if you are, you will most certainly be paying.”

Chapter Three

Anna twisted her sweaty hands, her stomach a jumbled mess of nerves as she stared at Mason’s front door. With the arched entry, distressed espresso wood and black wrought-iron accents, it looked like a castle.

She gulped. Like a dungeon.

Two weeks ago, wild horses couldn’t have kept her away from Mason’s house but since she’d read
the list
, she’d debated coming until the last second.

A couple of times on the drive over, she’d been tempted to turn around. Go back to her sweet, maiden-in-the-forest cottage complete with white picket fence. Sheer strength of will and determination not to be a coward kept the car pointed in Mason’s direction.

How did she reconcile the man she’d known with the things she’d read? A constant question since the first page of the “romance” novel he’d given her to read.

She snorted. Romance. Romance was candlelight and roses, long dinners filled with meaningful looks…not whips, chains, St. Andrew’s crosses and screams.

She pursed her lips. She would not scream. She refused. No matter what happened.

She shifted on the balls of her feet. Where was the man? For someone insistent on punctuality, he certainly didn’t follow his own rules, now did he? She scowled at the black doorbell.

Sudden horror had her heart slamming against her ribs—with all her fretting she’d forgotten to push the bell.

She glanced down at the slim silver wristwatch she’d worn.

7:02.

She’d been lost in thought for a whole four minutes. Feet twitching, she fought the desire to run to her car and screech down his driveway like a bat out of hell.

No!
She was here. She would go through with this insanity.

She straightened her shoulders. It was two minutes. Mason was a reasonable man. She had six months of proof to back up her theory.

With great reluctance, she pushed the bell. She refused to run. No matter how terrified.

The door swung open. Her throat dried up like a mirage in the Sahara.

She blinked. He looked…imposing. How did he manage to look dangerous in bare feet and a pair of faded Levi’s? It must be her overactive imagination.

And why’d he have to be shirtless? He had such a beautiful body with all that golden skin and hard muscle. After two long weeks, he looked so mouthwatering she wanted to drop to her knees and lick him.

She scoffed. Clearly she’d read too many dirty books. The women in those stories seemed to drop to their knees at an alarming rate and now they were influencing her.

The whole thing was ridiculous. No woman desired a penis in her mouth that much.

“You’re late.” Those two little words ripped her away from her thoughts.

Cheeks heating, she sputtered, a million justifications spilling through her mind. Two minutes didn’t count. She’d stood on his damn porch, so technically she wasn’t late.

Spine snapping ruler straight, she opened her mouth to explain, only her brain didn’t cooperate and she blurted, “Mason Bennett, if you think for one minute I’m going to be locked up in some cage and treated like a dog, you’ve got another think coming.”

He laughed, standing back to allow her entry. “I’ve missed you too, Anna.”

To her surprise, the outburst eased the tension in her shoulders. She peered into the foyer, heart beating fast. Nothing looked different. Still the same old heavy, dark-wood furniture since the last time.

“Were you expecting me to turn my house into a torture chamber in preparation for your arrival?” The deep, rich timbre of his voice stroked over her skin.

She jerked her attention to him. His lips quirked at the corners as though containing his amusement. Was he laughing at her? “No, of course not.”

“I see.” He gestured at the foyer. “Are you going to come in or should I carry you over the threshold like some virgin sacrifice?”

Head held high, she said haughtily, “I can walk, thank you.”

She judged the space between the door and him. If she wanted to slink in without touching him she’d have to turn sideways. She nibbled the inside of her cheek.

No. She would not be intimidated. Shoulders squaring, she marched forward like a soldier on the front line.

Warm skin brushed her forearm when she couldn’t avoid his hard abs. She sucked in a breath.

Oh, he smelled good, that unique mixture of soap, spice and Mason. She’d missed him so much and the desire to melt into him edged out her fear of the unknown.

He chuckled, the sound both sinful and menacing. “We still have to deal with your late arrival now don’t we?”

The pendulum swung right back. Terror once again took the lead.

Mason smiled, sitting on his oversized tan couch, amused when the girl who used to snuggle up to him like a newborn kitten took the seat as far away him as possible. He contemplated making a joke that she sit on the floor in the foyer so she didn’t get too close but decided against it.

She was far too on edge to appreciate the dark humor.

He drank in the sight of her, hungry for her cute face and giving body. For two weeks, he’d wondered if she’d show and now he had his answer.

The parts of the list designed to scare her had been a risk but now that he’d confessed the truth, he hadn’t wanted her to harbor delusions about what she’d agreed to this evening. While she was a bit prickly, that she’d come indicated at least a smidgen of desire. Of curiosity.

God knew he was curious about what the night would bring.

Anna was too wrapped up in her own nerves and fear to realize Mason watched her fuss at his front door. He’d laughed as she stood on his stoop and let the time run past. Oh, he was sure she had an explanation—clearly she’d planned on punctuality—but he’d learned long ago, in this game there were very few accidents.

All prim, she clutched her handbag on her lap, sitting with her feet tucked under the chair like a proper church lady. She wore a pretty pink-and-white dress that conveniently covered her from neck to toe.

She’d lose that modesty soon enough.

Posture perfect, she stared at him. The expectation clear in the tilt of her lips as she waited for him to speak. Soothe her. Remind her of the man she’d known.

As much as he wanted to scoop her into his arms and comfort her, he couldn’t do that. Tonight would be different. It would either end their relationship or start them on a new path. Comfort would come later.

He laced his fingers over his stomach and stretched, kicking one foot over his ankle.

A delicate arch of her blonde eyebrow.

He said nothing.

A shift in the chair.

He smiled, pleasantly. Waited.

Blue eyes narrowed, she threw up her hands. “Well, aren’t you going to get on with it?”

“With what?” he asked in a slow, precise tone.

A hard, exasperated breath sent a wayward blonde curl flying. “You know, with this whole domination thing!”

He laughed. Jesus, he’d missed her like wildfire. Of course, he’d already started his “domination thing” she just didn’t have enough experience to realize it. He shrugged. “You need a chance to unwind.”

She dug her nails into her white canvas purse. “There’s no way I can unwind with you staring at me like a bug under a microscope and with an implied threat hanging over my head.”

“I see, you’d like to get your punishment over, is that it?” The question delivered so mildly he could have been inquiring about today’s weather.

“No!” Face turning six shades of red, she gave him a fierce glare. “For the record, I was on time.”

“What time did you ring the bell?”

“I was standing on your porch before seven o’clock.” She looked down, scowled at her purse then dropped it on the end table next to her. Hands free, she placed them in her lap. Shifted. Put them on the chair arms.

A frown. Another squirm. She crossed her arms.

That dominant part of him long repressed couldn’t help but enjoy her agitation. “When did you ring my bell, Anna?”

“A couple minutes after but I was here.” She surprised him with a full-blown pout. He wanted to bite that puffed-out bottom lip. But that too would have to wait.

“If you were on time you would have stood in my foyer at seven.”

She huffed, looking adorable.

“You think I’m being unfair?” His cock lengthened. Hardened. It had been so long since he’d played this game, he hadn’t realized how much he’d missed it. How much effort it took to hide this from her.

“Very,” she said, voice full of righteous indignation.

It was always more fun when a girl played right into his hands. That Anna did now was an unexpected pleasure.

When he’d allowed himself to think about her showing up, he’d pictured her as frightened as a little rabbit he’d need to coax out of hiding. To see her playing the bratty, disgruntled sub as though born to the role both pleased and surprised him.

And he loved surprises.

There’d been hints of this fire but they’d been glimpses behind a curtain. He liked it. Wanted more. “Tell me about your reading.”

Her hands fell to her lap and she twisted the silver ring from her mother. “Look, Mason, I’m about to snap. Won’t you
please
put me out of my misery and get on with it?”

He studied her for a long moment. Did he force her to discuss what she’d learned or concede to her wishes? Most subs learned to be careful what they’d wished for after one of his
concessions
. He considered. He’d planned to go easy on her. Talk to her about what she’d learned, about her feelings, discuss his expectations. Ease her into things and let her adjust.