Command Performance (31 page)

“Let’s get out of here before the lights come up. Otherwise we’ll be stuck here all night.”

Miri nodded and they shimmied down the aisle, tripping over knees and legs. A few industry people took Mason’s hand and whispered praise. People shook her hand too. Then they were out of the theater, in the car again, and then home. The baby was fine, fast asleep in her crib. Time to get back to their
activities
.

Mason sat on the edge of the bed in the dungeon, still dressed. He didn’t waste any time pulling her over his lap. He must have missed these interludes too. He buckled on her collar, then ran his hands over the skirt of her gown, rough possessive touches and gropes.

“Don’t rip the dress,” Miri said, looking back at him. “It’s not mine.”

Mason chuckled. “Where have I heard that before? I’ll rip it off if I want to, you little tease.”

“Aren’t you the one who wouldn’t let me hold Ava earlier in case she drooled on me?” she reminded him. “I bet shredded seams are harder to fix than a little baby drool.”

“You’re over my lap about to be spanked.” He gave her collar a sharp tug. “Not the best time to smart off.”

Miri clamped her lips shut, not quite able to stifle a smile. Then she yelped as he landed a hard swat.

“Shh,” he reminded her. “Quiet. You mouthed off, now take your punishment like a good girl.”

He started to spank her, not too hard at first. She loved the feeling of being held over his lap. His hands were so big, his thighs such firm, warm support for her. Soon her bottom started to heat up with a pleasurable ache, and then he spanked her harder. The dress had a muffling effect on the noise, but the pain and sting came through just fine. After five minutes or so of a very sound spanking, she started to fidget in his lap. He stopped and pressed his hand at the small of her back.

“You should know, you’re about three seconds from being brutally ravished,” he said.

“Please, no,” she cried in feigned panic.
Please, yes.

“If you won’t be still and take your punishment, I’ll have no other recourse than to teach you a lesson with my cock.” He traced up the inside of her stockings with light fingertips. Miri shivered as he flipped up the skirt of her dress. He slid his palm beneath the silk of her bikini panties, a cool caress over her spank-heated bottom, then he reached for her arm and held it tight across her back. She bit her lip to keep from crying out as he spanked her again over her panties. Firm, sharp slaps, and now they sounded loud without the dampening layer of skirt. Miri didn’t care. He spanked her until she shuddered with the effort to keep her cries inside, then he stopped and pressed his fingers into the moist gusset of her panties.

“So naughty,” he said.

She could have bawled, she was so hot for him. “Please, Sir… He knew exactly what she was begging for. One of his fingers brushed over her clit, lingering there. “Ohh...”

He chuckled and lifted her to her feet, fumbling at the back of her dress for a zipper. “Spanked into submission. Let’s get on to the ravishment part, shall we?” He took off her dress and the obnoxious waist shaper, stripped off her panties and thigh high stockings. His own clothes came off in record time. Before she quite caught her breath, he was pushing her back on the bed, crawling over her, his thick, rigid cock jutting up between her thighs. She felt a moment of panic. He hadn’t been inside her since before the baby was born. She swallowed and reached out her hands. “I think I’m a virgin again.”

He corralled her wrists and trapped them above her head as he settled over her. “I’ll be happy to take care of that for you.”

She tensed and he paused, gazing down at her. “You’re really scared?” He stroked fingers over her forehead, toying with a wisp of her hair. “I’d never hurt you, baby. I’ll be so careful. I know it’s been a while. Too long,” he added with a soft growl.

“I trust you,” she whispered, her fingers clenching around his grip. “Love me, please. Even if it hurts a little, I’ll survive.”

Mason smiled, his boyish, movie star smile. “You might even like it.” He moved forward, sliding into her, teasingly slow at first. It did ache a bit even though she was wet for him, but it hurt in the best possible way. She stretched out under him, wanting to savor every pang, every inch of his invasion. Soon he was buried completely inside, too intrusive to ignore.

He was
inside her
. His cock was just a physical metaphor for how deeply he possessed her. The pain and fear and pleasure were previews of the coming years, but with their love, it would all be bearable. Wonderful even. She wrapped her legs around his hips, gasping as he drove into her. He lowered his head to kiss her, tugging and nipping at her lips. They moved together as one, rediscovering one another in scents and explorations, tentative touches that became grasping, needful strokes.

Miri wished it could have lasted forever, this re-familiarization with one another, but soon her body was barreling toward climax, her nipples tightening against his furred chest. Her pussy clenched around his cock, each thrust setting her pelvis on fire with a shimmering, aching burst of bliss. His heaviness, his hands at her wrists, his collar fastened at her neck fulfilled her craving to feel his force and power.

She fell apart with his hands pinning her and his cock touching her deep inside. His body slid across hers, possessing her, grounding her. The orgasm pulsed on and on, climactic ecstasy. When she came to rest, when her body unwound from the extended pulses of release, Mason wrapped his arms around her and held her close. He pumped inside her, bracing himself on his knees, practically pushing her across the bed. With a gasp, he pulled back and shot his cum across her stomach, fisting his cock to drain out the last stuttering spurts.

“Ohh...” He groaned. “That was a long time coming. Literally.”

Miri laughed as he rubbed the fluid into her skin with caressing strokes. “I would tell you to clean up,” he said. “But I think I’m just going to make you dirty again.”

“I think you made me dirty a while ago. And I’m sure you’ll only make me dirtier over time.”

“That sounds like a challenge. Turn over, naughty girl.”

He made her dirty almost all night, and tormented her too with a wide variety of implements from the pegboard on the wall. At some point they stumbled back upstairs to shower and sleep. The next morning the nanny ventured out with Ava and the baby’s bodyguard for a stroll around the backyard, and Mason took the opportunity to make her dirty yet again.

After that, they swore off sex long enough to have breakfast and check their phone messages. Mason smiled over his. “Good news, Miri. Shane says
Revelation
’s getting great reviews and excellent numbers from the premiere.” He looked up at her, but his face clouded when she didn’t return his smile. “What’s wrong?”

“My father called,” she said, holding up her phone. “It’s Grammy. She’s taken a turn for the worse.”

Pneumonia. People called it “the old man’s friend” because it was a quiet, peaceful way to die. A slipping away from consciousness, a cessation of stress and pain.

Her grandma looked peaceful for the first time Miri could remember in years. The last time she’d visited her, to show her baby Ava, her grandmother’s condition had been difficult to process. Now this was the end. Miri felt deep grief watching Grammy’s chest rise and fall, slower, ever slower. Soon, it would become completely still.

She was thankful Mason was here to help her through this. Her father was in and out too. He’d fallen off the wagon when Grammy went into her final decline, but he’d climbed back on again. He was back to doubling up on AA meetings. Most importantly, he was taking responsibility for himself, doing what he had to do to find peace in his life. Miri wished she could spare him this pain. She wished her own heart didn’t ache so much.

“I can’t imagine life without her.” She looked over at Mason, sitting in a rocker with Ava sleeping on his shoulder. “I didn’t have friends growing up, except for my sister. I lost my mom. I lost Maddy. Dad was sick. Grammy was the only friend I had for so long.”

He rocked back and forth, sighing in sympathy. “I wish I could have known her then. She sounded like a great person.”

“She was. Thanks too, for helping pay for her care at...at the end of her life,” Miri choked out.

Mason stood and crossed to her, cradling the baby carefully so she didn’t wake up. “I’ll help you with anything, always. You have me to be your friend now.” He leaned down to kiss her gently. “But I’m sorry you’re losing your Gram.” He touched his nose to hers. “I love you. I’m sorry you’re so sad.”

Miri’s father came in then, and they moved apart. Peter Durand regarded them uncomfortably. She knew he would always have problems with the idea of his little girl in a grown up—and unrelentingly public—relationship. But like his alcoholism, he’d have to learn to deal with it.

“How is she?” her father asked.

“Oh, daddy.” Miri held out her hand and he came to stand beside her. “She looks so peaceful, doesn’t she?”

“That’s what everyone always says,” he said gruffly. “She’s dying though.”

“She’s dying peacefully.”

“At least she wasn’t stabbed,” Mason muttered under his breath from the rocking chair. Miri slid him a silencing glance.

She looked back at her father. “Everything’s going to be okay.”

His eyes searched hers. “Are you going to move away now, like you planned? Now that Grammy’s leaving us? Are you going to leave with the baby?”

Miri paused. That had been the original idea, to escape L.A. once Grammy was gone, but that had been a while ago. “Daddy—”

“Because I was going to tell you... I met a lady. A nice lady in treatment.” He laughed ruefully. “I know, two drunks falling in love. But we’re both sober now and...” He clammed up, pursing his lips.

“Aww.” Miri put an arm around him. “I think that’s wonderful.”

“The great thing about her is that we’re both in this together. We go to meetings, we talk. She makes it easier for me. But she can’t move out of town. She has a lot of family here. Kids and grandbabies.”

“I don’t think we’re moving anywhere just yet. And if we do, Mason will be there to take care of me and Ava. So we’ll be okay.”

Her father threw Mason a baleful look. “You sure he can keep you safe? With his crazy fans and reporters everywhere?”

“I’m right here,” Mason said. “I can hear everything you’re saying.”

She held up a hand. “You two stop bickering. And you, daddy...you have a lot of nerve talking about Mason being safe when you stabbed him.”

A blush spread over her father’s craggy features. “Are we going to hash over that forever? I said I was sorry.”

“I can still press charges, you know,” Mason said. “The statute of limitations doesn’t run out for two years.”

Miri rolled her eyes as her father started counting months on his fingers. “You guys are ridiculous. The point is, I’m happy you met someone, daddy. I think it’s good. What’s her name?”

“Pamela. She’s a great gal.”

“I’d love to meet her sometime.”

Grammy drew in a sudden deep breath, and they all fell silent. Mason stood and walked over. For the next fifteen minutes, her breaths grew slower, almost undetectable. The hospice nurse stopped by and waited wordlessly at a respectable distance. Finally, Grammy breathed out and didn’t breathe in again. Miri thought she’d be ready for this moment, but her eyes filled with tears. Her father shuddered and started to cry quietly. This hurt like losing her mother. Like losing Maddy. So much loss in life, so much pain. Mason held her close and then leaned over to squeeze her father’s shoulder. Ava made a little sound in her sleep, a tiny whimper and sigh.

Miri reached out to touch her grandma’s pale, gnarled hand.
Rest in peace, Grammy. Don’t worry about me. Don’t worry about any of us.

I think we’ll be okay.

*** *** ***

After Grammy’s funeral, Mason suggested some time away. He’d done six films back to back, and wanted to take a year off to enjoy Ava’s babyhood. Miri immediately agreed, and asked where he wanted to go.

“Everywhere,” he said with a smile.

It turned out Mason really did have twenty-one houses in all his favorite places, all of them vastly different. All of them a wonder to behold.

She learned so much about him by seeing the cities he loved and the homes he was attracted to, although there was no rhyme and reason to his tastes. They’d spend a month at a swanky multi-story Parisian townhouse, and then turn around and spend two weeks in a one-room cabin nestled at the foot of the Alps. They went to Wales, Spain, Romania, Turkey, New Zealand, Brazil. Baby Ava’s passport had more stamps on it than most people collected in a lifetime.

They were dogged occasionally by foreign photographers, although their little army of bodyguards kept them safe. There was a positive side to the annoyance—the paparazzi provided a thorough documentary of their travels. Miri started piecing together the photos and articles so Ava could have a scrapbook of her adventures when she was grown.

One night in a lakeside villa in Italy, Miri sat organizing those clippings while lightning flashed and thunder rumbled, rattling the stoneware in the hand-hewn cabinets. Mason sat across from her in the cozy living and dining area. French torch songs played softly in the background, one of Mason’s new obsessions. He sang along at random times, although he was also concentrating on reading prospective projects. Ava slept in an adjoining suite in her porta-crib, which was getting as much international mileage as her passport.

“It’s a shame she won’t remember any of this,” Miri said.

He looked up from the script he was reading. “Hm.”

She laughed at his vague, preoccupied stare. “Hm. Is that your final answer?”

The corner of his lip curled in a grin. “Sorry, I’m distracted. Have you read this yet?”

Miri wasn’t sure. About six months into their world tour, a funny thing happened. Scripts started to arrive—an avalanche of them. Some of them for Mason, but some for Miri too. There was always a stack of them in the corner, most of them Fedex’d from Mason’s agency, which was now also Miri’s agency.