predator. My lungs threaten to burst, and I suck in a desperate breath as another tear drops onto the carpet.
His scent engulfs me as he lowers his head to my ear.
“You have till noon tomorrow, Keely. I’ll be on the yacht. If you’re there at midday, we take this thing to the next level. If you’re one minute late, I’ll know you mean this not to go any further and I’ll take no for your answer. But remember, if you do turn up, we’ll be doing things my way. I’ll grant you your wish for mental stimulation as long as it doesn’t involve personal details. I don’t ask about your past, you don’t ask about mine. Dirty talk outside of the bedroom or sexual scenarios will be met with punishment. You’re a gorgeous and intelligent woman. It’s time to start behaving like one. I won’t apologize for what I just did. You’ve been asking for it from the moment we met. Don’t even think of defying me again or what I did to you just now will seem like the tip of the iceberg punishment wise. Are we clear?”
Tears continue to rim my eyes and rush down my cheeks, and a part of me reels in horror at this unfamiliar surge of emotion. I never let anything affect me. Not anymore.
Hell, when was the last time I cried? I can’t honestly remember.
Which is why I’m too stunned to answer when Mason demands again, “Are we clear? I need an answer, Keely.”
I force my vocal cords to work. “Let me go, Mason. Right now.” My voice is hoarse and shakes with anger.
“Not until you answer me,” he rasps in my ear.
I press my lips together and squeeze my eyes shut. A second later the hand that delivered cruel punishment slides soothingly over my burning skin. The gentleness in his touch confuses me even more than the spanking had. I lay bowed over his knees, my thoughts churning in a chaotic jumble I can’t make sense of.
His left hand continues to sooth me as his right hand eases up my back to brush away the hair curtaining my face. I turn my head away so he doesn’t see my tears and quickly swipe the evidence away.
I hear him sigh. “This is what happens when I’m forced to engage on anything but a sexual level. I don’t play well with others, never have. You can’t put me in a box and expect me to behave. Dammit, I shouldn’t even be here,” he mutters, almost as if he’s talking to himself. The raw ache in his voice catches me unawares and I twist to see his face. A frozen mask of pain and deep, dark shadows stares back at me. My heart lurches.
What does that mean, he shouldn’t be here? Here , in this club, or here in this existence? The look on his face indicates he could mean both.
My instincts urge me to move, to flee. Now.
I shift sideways, but he catches me back, his eyes flaring as he stares first at my ass, then at my face. “I can show you untold pleasure, Keely. Everything you can possibly imagine can be yours and more, if you’re willing to drop the charade of needing to attach social strings to what we can have.”
My throat is too choked with everything that’s happened in the last five minutes to deal with what he’s saying. But I can’t lie here like some fucking sacrificial lamb about to be slaughtered, regardless of the fact that his hand on my butt is doing things to my insides I’ve never felt before.
“Wanting a little verbal stimulation is too much to ask? How about speaking at all? If I decide to let you do what you want with me, am I expected to lie there and count sheep? Or assume a blow-up doll position until you finish.”
“We can iron out the finer details tomorrow, if you agree to this,” he says.
It strikes me then what it is about Mason that unsettles me so much. Every guy I’ve met has a basic, civilized veneer no matter how outrageous they may pretend to be.
Mason Sinclair has none, and he doesn’t try to hide the fact. Civility means nothing to him. When he deigns to respond to normal conversation, the words that fall from his mouth make my nerves
His scent engulfs me as he lowers his head to my ear.
“You have till noon tomorrow, Keely. I’ll be on the yacht. If you’re there at midday, we take this thing to the next level. If you’re one minute late, I’ll know you mean this not to go any further and I’ll take no for your answer. But remember, if you do turn up, we’ll be doing things my way. I’ll grant you your wish for mental stimulation as long as it doesn’t involve personal details. I don’t ask about your past, you don’t ask about mine. Dirty talk outside of the bedroom or sexual scenarios will be met with punishment. You’re a gorgeous and intelligent woman. It’s time to start behaving like one. I won’t apologize for what I just did. You’ve been asking for it from the moment we met. Don’t even think of defying me again or what I did to you just now will seem like the tip of the iceberg punishment wise. Are we clear?”
Tears continue to rim my eyes and rush down my cheeks, and a part of me reels in horror at this unfamiliar surge of emotion. I never let anything affect me. Not anymore.
Hell, when was the last time I cried? I can’t honestly remember.
Which is why I’m too stunned to answer when Mason demands again, “Are we clear? I need an answer, Keely.”
I force my vocal cords to work. “Let me go, Mason. Right now.” My voice is hoarse and shakes with anger.
“Not until you answer me,” he rasps in my ear.
I press my lips together and squeeze my eyes shut. A second later the hand that delivered cruel punishment slides soothingly over my burning skin. The gentleness in his touch confuses me even more than the spanking had. I lay bowed over his knees, my thoughts churning in a chaotic jumble I can’t make sense of.
His left hand continues to sooth me as his right hand eases up my back to brush away the hair curtaining my face. I turn my head away so he doesn’t see my tears and quickly swipe the evidence away.
I hear him sigh. “This is what happens when I’m forced to engage on anything but a sexual level. I don’t play well with others, never have. You can’t put me in a box and expect me to behave. Dammit, I shouldn’t even be here,” he mutters, almost as if he’s talking to himself. The raw ache in his voice catches me unawares and I twist to see his face. A frozen mask of pain and deep, dark shadows stares back at me. My heart lurches.
What does that mean, he shouldn’t be here? Here , in this club, or here in this existence? The look on his face indicates he could mean both.
My instincts urge me to move, to flee. Now.
I shift sideways, but he catches me back, his eyes flaring as he stares first at my ass, then at my face. “I can show you untold pleasure, Keely. Everything you can possibly imagine can be yours and more, if you’re willing to drop the charade of needing to attach social strings to what we can have.”
My throat is too choked with everything that’s happened in the last five minutes to deal with what he’s saying. But I can’t lie here like some fucking sacrificial lamb about to be slaughtered, regardless of the fact that his hand on my butt is doing things to my insides I’ve never felt before.
“Wanting a little verbal stimulation is too much to ask? How about speaking at all? If I decide to let you do what you want with me, am I expected to lie there and count sheep? Or assume a blow-up doll position until you finish.”
“We can iron out the finer details tomorrow, if you agree to this,” he says.
It strikes me then what it is about Mason that unsettles me so much. Every guy I’ve met has a basic, civilized veneer no matter how outrageous they may pretend to be.
Mason Sinclair has none, and he doesn’t try to hide the fact. Civility means nothing to him. When he deigns to respond to normal conversation, the words that fall from his mouth make my nerves
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