Page 30 of The Real Mason
I want to deny this, but the evidence isn’t in my favor. It’s easier to turn the subject back to his past than to think about my own proclivities. I clear my throat. “How did you go from her submissive to being…what you are?”
“What I am, huh?” The corners of his eyes crinkle. “Rissa pretty much beat it out of me.”
I gasp. “That’s horrible.”
He chuckles. “Not in a bad way. It’s hard to explain. She’d known all along what my true nature was, and she pushed me until I took ownership of it. Then she turned around and taught me everything there is to know about being…” He grins at me. “What I am.”
“Do you still…” I trail off, unable to voice the words. Afraid of what I’ll learn and what it will mean for my future with Mason.
“Fuck her?” he adds helpfully.
I scowl in response.
He shakes his head. “Not since I met you. I haven’t had sex with anyone or stepped foot into a club since we met.” He sighs and brushes my hair off my shoulders. “Have we played together over the years? I’d love to say no, as I know it would ease your mind. But I promised to be honest, so yes, I’ve played with her many times. Sometimes that included sex.”
I look away, feeling hurt and confused and generally unhappy. “What does that mean? Play together?”
He gives me a gentle smile, so reminiscent of the man I knew I want to weep from it. Everything seemed so simple before all this.
His thumb brushes the curve of my hip. “It means we’ve done scenes together with her partner, or mine, or both. Sometimes that includes sex, sometimes it doesn’t. But I don’t show up for dinner at her house and sleep with her. Those days were over long before I ever met you.”
“You swear?”
“I swear.”
I raise a brow and put my pinky in the air. It works for first graders; maybe it will work for me. “Do you pinky swear?”
He laughs, hooking his pinky with mine. “I pinky swear.”
It will have to do for now.
A vision of him mixes with things I read in the books he assigned me. The tangle of limbs and mouths makes my stomach drop. Appalled, I shake my head. “I’m never going to do that, Mason.”
He studies me. “Is that so?”
My chin rises. I have my own rules, and this is one of them. “Yes. I’m not sharing.”
And just like that, the air shifts between us.
His lids grow heavy, and that hard edge slides over his features, sharpening the planes of his face into something sinful and dangerous. Lethal. Capable of making me do God only knows what.
Heat pooling low, I swallow. He adjusts me slightly, and I instinctively press my thighs together even as my heart pounds hard and my blood races.
“Open.” One word, said in that tone, and my thighs spread for him like the parting of the Red Sea. “Good girl.”
Pleasure blooms, filling me up. His strong fingers stroke along my slick folds, and my head falls to his shoulder. He peers at me thoughtfully, and my cheeks flush under his scrutiny. He nips my bottom lip and circles my clit.
It has always felt good when he does that, but now it’s so much better. I’m not sure why, and maybe it doesn’t matter. I tilt my hips, seeking pressure as need coils tight in my belly.
“I can see you’re appalled by the very idea.”
The smug arrogance in his voice makes me burn hotter. I don’t want him to see, so I work to contain the quickening of my breath.
“I am.”How did a change in demeanor cause such an extreme reaction in me?
“Just as you abhor the thought of being tortured and punished.”
My body betrays me, and wetness slicks my inner thighs. “I do.”
