Mimi looked around Mason's living room a bit surprised by how warm and cozy his home was. From the outside design, and from Mason's office at Coleman Automotive, Mimi had expected something more retro post modern, and masculine. What she got was overstuffed cream colored sofas. Dark hardwood floors. Plush area rugs. Lamps that gave the room a warm glow. Plenty of exposed brick and aged wood made up the walls, along with book shelves.
The interior of Mason's house reminded Mimi of a cabin. A very high end comfy cabin retreat with a gourmet kitchen. The countertops of his kitchen probably cost more than what she had saved up for a down payment on a house. Mimi ran her fingers over a throw blanket that lay carelessly balled in the corner of the sofa. Cashmere.
Mimi sighed as she released the decadent material. The blanket and the couch wouldn't last a day around Zeke. Neither would half the pricey knick-knacks on all the side tables and lower shelves, artfully arranged in front of books.
This was the home of a very wealthy, very single man. This was the home of her boss. It had been easy to forget Mason Coleman was both those things. He'd somehow become Mason. The man that had an easy camaraderie with her son. The man that took them out for pizza, babysat, and held her on her couch while she cried. And in her bed after he'd made love to her.
He'd broken through her defenses and become just an average everyday man. The kind she could see settling down with. But he wasn't.
She looked around and wondered what she'd been thinking. Mason wasn't an average everyday guy. He was a powerful and privileged business man. His home may be understated, but it didn't hide the fact that he was from a different world than her own. Besides building Coleman Automotive, he was from money. A lot of money.
Like Jay.
The unconscious comparison made her uncomfortable and she tried to recall all the ways they were different. Mason was not Jay, she reminded herself. With Jay, there had been no forgetting wealth and status. He'd been sent to prep schools and raised to remember he was better than everyone else. He had been casually elegant, to inelegantly snobbish.
Mason didn't wear his status nearly the same way. Mason was refined. A gentleman. Yet he was also relaxed and grounded in a way that made him friendly and open.
Although Mason wasn't completely open. He had a part of himself he hid so well she hadn't even known it existed. Mimi thought back to the drive over here. Mason usually wore a stoic mask. She thought of it as his poker face. He wore it often while at work. It was a look that drove her crazy because she couldn't read him. Normally not one emotion would cross his handsome face.
Earlier, on the drive over, she could read him loud and clear. He was hiding the pain of losing his family. At Christmas.
Her heart broke a bit for him. She'd gotten choked up and had to blink back tears, like she was now just thinking about it. She knew they would be unappreciated and possibly make him feel guilty for opening up. Stupid man.
Still, she couldn't stop thinking about the pain he must have suffered and was still living every day. She realized for the first time how truly lonely he had to be. His family was gone and he kept the family he had at arm’s length because they reminded him of what he'd lost.
A part of her wanted to fill that void. Not to fix him, but to heal him. Make him whole. He said he wanted to be a part of her life and she wondered if that meant he was okay with her being a part of his. And there was a difference.
Jay had been a part of her life, but she'd never been a part of his.
Feeling eyes on her, she looked up and realized Mason stood in the wide doorway. He wore the same charged look he'd shot her in the car when he'd said, I know how you are going to make it up to me.
Earlier it seemed like a distraction, a change of subject. Whether for himself or for her she wasn't sure. She didn't care either way. She loved when he looked at her that way. Like she was the most desirable thing he'd ever seen. Like he had a list of dirty things he wanted to do to her and was thinking about each and every one of them. Maybe that was just wishful thinking on her part.
“I didn't see you standing there,” she said unable to move, trapped in his penetrating gray gaze.
“I told you to make yourself comfortable, Miriam.”
Like Pavlov’s dog knowing it was about to be fed her body flushed, her pulse instantly beating
faster. She loved it even more when he added an authoritative bite to his voice. It rumbled through her and awakened each and every nerve ending. She was pretty sure he was aware of it. Used it to his advantage like he was trying to infiltrate all of her defenses until she had none left. She'd work up the angst to resent that if it didn't turn her on so much.
“How would you like me to make myself comfortable, Mr. Coleman? I aim to please you, sir.” Yes, she knew how to play this game and was very willing.
His lips twitched like he was fighting a grin. Not a sweet grin, but the kind a wolf has before devouring a meal.
Arms crossed, he leaned up against the wall, scratching his chin as if in contemplation. The pose should have been casual but she could see his muscles were tense. An enigmatic energy fairly radiated off him. “The shirt, Ms. Westfall. It should probably come off.”
“What if I get cold?”
“The shirt, Miriam,” he said ignoring her question. Playful Mason was gone, replaced by an intense man she didn't quite recognize.
A chill stole through her. Part fear of uncertainty, part arousal. Button by button, Mimi opened her shirt, holding his gaze until the fabric whispered down her arms. Her eyes naturally closed at the sensation of silky material sliding off her body. Goosebumps sprang up in its wake, her nipples beading to hard, aching points of awareness.
“The bra now.”
She unclasped her bra, letting it fall to the floor and had to fight covering herself from his scrutinizing gaze. She recalled feeling the same standing in the corner of his office. She realized he liked this. Making her feel exposed. A bit intimidated. Vulnerable. The knowledge filled her with arousal, and she felt the power shift.
He may be in command but she was the only store in town that carried what he needed.
“Pants,” he said simply.
She toed off her shoes. Undoing her zipper she hooked her thumbs in the waistband of her pants and panties, ready to drag them both down her legs when he said, “Stop.”
Like a marionette, she froze, pants and panties halfway down her thighs. Air kissing her bottom.
“Leave the panties on. Those are mine to take off you.”
A flush swept through her chest at his words. She wasn't sure why that affected her so but it did. With shaky hands she raised her panties back to position before she slid her jeans down her legs and stepped out of them.
Nipples pebbled, the crotch of her panties damp, covered in goosebumps she stood there as he looked his fill. She tried to relax her hands at her sides and not squirm under his gaze.
Slowly he pushed off the wall. His walk was deceptively casual. His muscles looked tight. Coiled. His stance controlled, like a panther about to pounce on his prey. Her.
He circled her, leaning in behind her like he was breathing her in, but not touching her. A gentle finger skimmed along the peach lace material of her panties.
“These are fancy, Miriam,” he said softly from behind her. She could feel his gaze on her. Could imagine his eyes tracing the same exposed cheeks of her ass his fingers were skimming over.
“Who were you thinking about when you bought these panties?”
She tried to recall when she'd bought them. Her thoughts were already muddled. “I-I wasn't thinking of anyone. I just wanted to feel sexy,” she said honestly if not a bit weakly.
The sudden pulling and tearing of fabric against her skin made her gasp. Mason ripped the waistband of both sides of her lacy thong. Holding a fistful of material in the front and back he pulled up, grinding it against her core until she went up on tiptoes. He relaxed his grip, catching her with the strong band of his arm around her waist when she would have stumbled forward.
“Do I make you feel sexy, Miriam?” At her nod he continued, “I've decided,” he said, his face pressed against her neck. “I want to be the only thing that makes you feel sexy from now on. If a scrap of material makes you feel sexy it's because you bought it thinking of me. You'll only wear panties you bought while thinking about me.”
Her spine stiffened a little. That was the most arrogant, pigheaded dictate she'd ever heard. Yet she knew she'd never buy underwear and not think of him ever again. Dammit.
“Do you need to be reminded who's in charge, Ms.Westfall?” he asked, obviously aware her hackles had been raised at his outrageous demand.
“No,” she said, a bit petulantly.
“Go to the kitchen.” With that he pulled the torn cloth forward. Lace scraped against her beaded clit making her squeak.
Mimi walked on shaky legs to the large kitchen, glancing at Mason over her shoulder, wondering what he had in store for her. He gave nothing away, but his gaze seemed to have taken on a decidedly wolfish gleam.
She stopped once in the kitchen. The tile was cool under her bare feet. The lights were on low, the dark wood cabinets making the room look even darker. Mason crowded her into the wide island in the center of the room. She gasped against the cool feel of granite under her belly as he pressed her forward, reaching around her.
He opened a drawer and rooted around before he seemed to find what he was searching for. Standing behind her he held a flat rubber headed spatula up, seemingly for her inspection. The handle was wooden and the wide head was a sunny yellow.
“Open up.”
“What?”
“Your mouth. Open it.”
Dutifully she opened her mouth and bit down on the long flat wooden handle of the spatula.
“Up you go,” he said.
She almost dropped the spatula from her mouth when strong hands gripped her waist, lifting her onto the island. She slid her knees under herself on the cold counter top, and he pushed her forward, forcing her to catch herself with her hands.
On all fours, with her ass in the air, she was perched precariously on the island with her lower legs sticking out off the end. She had only a second to wonder what the hell Mason's intentions were before she felt his hot wet mouth on her equally wet sex. Moans were pulled from her throat as he licked, nibbled, and bit at delicate flesh. The scruff of his day's growth of beard scrapped along her delicate inner thighs.
Higher and higher she climbed, as he lapped at her folds, teasing her clit with flicks of his wicked tongue. Never giving her the direct contact she craved. She reached back to hold his face to her pussy, right where she needed him most.
He pulled back, his hand slapping down on her raised ass cheek with stinging force.
She cried out around the spatula in her mouth, her teeth clamping down. If it didn't have her teeth marks forever embedded in it before, it did now.
“Are you in charge?” he asked, his voice coming out in a harsh growl.
When she only whimpered in response he slapped down twice on the other cheek of her ass just as hard, making her squeal out in protest.
“Are you in charge?” he asked. His voice cutting through the air like a drill sergeant.
“Nuh-uh,” she muttered around the spatula, vigorously shaking her head.
“Do you want me to make you come?”
She nodded her head looking back at Mason imploring with her eyes to let her come.
He ran a finger down her thigh. Kissing her rump before giving her a hard bite. The sensation made her eyes roll back on a groan. “Beg,” he said.
She whimpered in frustration.
He chuckled. The sound rumbled through his chest and sounded slightly evil. He reached out and took the spatula from her mouth. “Beg.”
Licking her lips she said, “Please may I come?” Her voice came out shaky and slightly hoarse.
In response to her query he pushed two broad fingers into her slowly, letting her feel the delicious stretch before starting the in and out drag. “You're so hot and wet, sunshine. And tight. So damn tight. Do you know how good you're going to feel stretched over my cock?”
She moaned as her core clenched down on his fingers at his words. A bead of her arousal ran down the back of her thigh.
“Oh, angel, I think you're excited,” he said, his wicked tongue trailing up her thigh, licking away her juices. His fingers pumped inside her faster. The blood roared in her ears. The sound only broken by her own little cries and the wet sounds of her sex. Her body tightened, so close to breaking and going over.
He pulled his fingers free of her. She screamed as her channel clenched on air, not reaching completion. “Please, please, please,” she begged in real desperation. “Please, Mason. May I come? Please make me come?”
“You want me to make you come?” he asked. His casual tone betrayed only by his quick breathing.
“Please. Please.”
“Do you want me to fuck you, Mimi?”
“Yes-yes, please fuck me.”
“Do you want me to fuck you here,” he asked pushing his fingers into her pussy. “Or here?” his fingers pulled out to press against her sensitive bottom hole. She cried out. Genuine discomfort mixed with pleasure. She wasn't sure if she could take him there so soon, but she knew her answer was important. The air around Mason fairly crackled with intense energy. If she pushed him he would push back and punish her for testing him.
With two fingers in her bottom, his other hand was deceptively gently as it skimmed over her ass and thighs. She felt a barely leashed violence in Mason she'd never felt before. He ran a tongue along her slit, sucking in her clit. The sensation rocked through her body. Just as quickly as his mouth was on her it was gone. She whimpered at the loss.
“Where do you want my cock, Miriam? How do you want me to make you come?”
She looked back at him over her shoulder. “Anywhere you want. Anyway you want,” she said looking him straight in the eye, so he would know she meant it with every fiber of her being. Because she needed to say it. Because he needed to hear it.
“That's right,” he growled. He pulled her down off the counter, only to push her forward to lay along the cool slab. Fist in her hair he asked, “Do you know why? Do you know why I can have you any way I want you?”
“Because I'm yours,” she said. Her voice breaking at the end as he brought the spatula down on her bottom, hard.
“Because you're mine,” he said, swinging the spatula down again with stinging force. “Count,” he commanded as the spatula lit up her ass again.
“Wu-wu-one,” she stuttered. Smack. “Tt-two. Ahhh!” she screamed as the rubber met flesh. Smack, smack. Again and again, one side, then the other, he spanked her as she counted it out all the way to twenty. After twenty the strikes rained down over her bottom as her legs kicked out. She gasped for breath as tears tracked down her face. She held onto the counter in a white knuckle grip to keep from reaching her hands back. Her ass pulsed with heat.
Just as suddenly as he'd started peppering her bottom, he flung the spatula away from him. She felt the hard length of his cock on her thigh before he pushed into her hard. He gave her no time to adjust to the stretch of him as he hammered into her, rougher than he'd ever been before.
Cries tore from her throat as she could do nothing but hold on. Her feet found no purchase as her legs dangled over the side of the island. She felt helpless and taken. His hands were firm as they settled on the swollen flesh of her bottom holding her open. The move made her whimper. She could feel every callus and bump of his hand. Her bottom was throbbing.
The tidal wave of release was coming to sweep her up and over. Then it was on her, ripping through her. There was no stopping it. Head thrown back on a soundless cry, her channel convulsed around his length.
His hand squeezed in front of her and found her clit, making her thighs close up to trap it. “You're not done. Keep coming on my cock,” he growled in her ear as he weaved a fist into her hair. His rhythm stuttered. He was close. “Keep coming,” he demanded.
His command was white noise to the onslaught of sensation wracking her body. She crested and crashed two more times, her body bowing and arching. Her legs strained for leverage as she tried to buck back against him. She cried herself hoarse as she came and came, until it grew painful. Then she came again with her clit pinched between his knuckles as his punishing cock hit her sweet spot over and over.
The harsh cry of Mason mixed with her own as she felt the hot splash of his pulsing cum bathing the walls of her channel.
Breathing hard he wrapped his arms around her tightly and placed gentle kisses along her shoulders. Tender in the aftermath of their violent coupling. They stayed there panting until their breathing evened and their heartbeats slowed.
She was trembling from head to toe when Mason pulled away from her only to scoop her up in his arms, heading toward the back of the house. Her arms wrapped around his shoulders. Her eyes closed in exhaustion. She'd never been carried cradled in a man's arms before. She hoped she remembered this in the morning.
Just Right!
