MasonsRule-ARe (13 page)

She glared at him. "Your contract didn't say anything about humiliation."
 

He leaned into her personal space. "Dear Miss Adams, trust me. If I was going to humiliate you, it would not look like this. We are alone back here and the staff will not walk through that door without first contacting me. They know better. And right now my tolerance for disobedience is gone, so unless you do wish me to give you a true lesson in humiliation, I suggest you settle down and shut your mouth. Is it so hard to swallow the fact that I like having you naked and wanting next to me?" He grabbed her hand and placed it over his cock. To her credit she did not flinch or blink. "I want you, Miss Adams. More than I've ever wanted anyone. Just because you’re mad about how I said it doesn’t change the facts. I can't have you right now, but it would be my great honor to be able to admire what I so covet."

Chapter Eleven

Rebecca swallowed. Hard. She never had anyone talk to her the way Mason did. And she definitely never had anyone get her so wet she was afraid she would ruin his fine leather airplane seats.
 

This man had enough arrogance inside him for five men. Yet, with one little sentence he made up for it. She bit her lip.
Sort of.
 

He wanted her. Those were his words. Had anyone actually ever wanted her in her life? Well, technically she guessed the men she let touch her did, but five minutes in the back of a car or in a dark alley hardly compared. She was definitely out of her league in this world. But she knew that going in and she took the plunge anyway. She didn't want to admit it, but with one spine tingling scene he’d made her crave a lot more of what she saw inside the walls of Purgatory. And if her information was correct, she'd barely seen a thing since she'd never been invited to the elusive third floor.
 

She studied Mason with her peripheral vision. He released her hand and was quiet for at least several minutes. Not that she felt compelled to fill the silence. She desperately needed a moment to get her head on straight. Her fickle brain couldn't decide what it wanted her to do and it was pissing her off. Rebecca closed her eyes and pictured that first night in Purgatory. She didn't know anyone at that point. Not personally. Before walking through the club doors, she had nothing to go on but her research and her sister’s journal. All of the sights and sounds overwhelmed her. The music she tuned out easily enough, but the half-naked writhing bodies on the dance floor captured her attention as did the lingerie-clad woman chained to a post at the edge of the crowd. She stood alone, with her hands wrapped around the post behind her and a blind fold covering her eyes.

Rebecca had searched the area for someone who she might belong to and came away with nothing. No one appeared to be paying much attention to her at all. The idea of being chained and alone and unable to see what was coming unnerved Rebecca. And compelled her forward as she moved closer to the woman. Was this what her sister looked like when she came to the club with her mysterious Master?

And why the hell had her sister not ever once used her Master's name in her journal? The question plagued her at every turn. Fortunately the red-haired stranger with a figure not unlike her own pulled her attention back to the present. She took another step closer and could now see the woman wasn't without nerves. She pulled her lip between her teeth and was nervously chewing on it. But it was the only movement she made. This close she could finally tell that the scrap of clothing the woman wore was nearly sheer. Her nipples looked like shadows behind the fabric and many of the club goers had obviously noticed. People danced close to her, often touching a breast or sliding a hand between her legs.
 

Why did she subject herself to this humiliation? Rebecca wanted to whip out her cell phone and take a snippet of video. Not only to add it to her file for later, but in case the poor woman needed evidence.
 

"Why do you look so distressed, Miss Adams? Are you afraid of sex with me?" Mason's voice broke through her memory and she realized she tuned him out in the middle of a conversation.
 

"I don’t know," she said.

His sigh sounded loud in her ears, amplifying her guilt for not telling him the truth. "I realize your nerves are frayed from the last few days of waiting, but if you can't trust me enough to tell me what you're thinking, how will you ever fully trust me with your body."

"Actually, it's a lot easier to let someone touch your body than it is to tell them what's in your head, Mr. Sinclair."

"Is it? You value your thoughts and secrets more than the sanctity of your beautiful body? Aren't they equally important?"

He caught her off guard with his question and she didn't know how to answer.

"It's easier for you to accept me when I do this?" He stroked the curve of her breast and circled the areola surrounding her right nipple. "Than it is to tell me what you were thinking about just now?"
 

Heat sparked from his touch, sending that shocking electrical current straight to her core again.
 

"I—I—Um, yes I think so."

"We may have to agree to disagree. The mind is the best sex organ we have. In order for this to work, you have to trust me. And in order to trust me, you have to let me into that complex mind of yours more than once. I had hoped we were past that point."

His fingers still circled her nipple. As the heat and moisture gathered between her legs, it made it difficult for her to concentrate.

"I'm not that complex," she said.
 

"I doubt that. Now tell me what you were thinking about, Rebecca."

Her stomach jolted at his use of her full first name. She rather enjoyed him calling her Miss Adams, but when he used just her first name, the encounter suddenly felt more intimate. She cleared her throat. "I was thinking about my first night in Purgatory."
 

A small smile crept across his face. "I remember it. You caused quite a stir over the submissive chained to the public whipping post. I got a call. What made you think of it now?"

His hand moved to her left breast and repeated the pattern he used on the first. "Sometimes you make me feel like I did that first night." Another admission she wasn't totally comfortable with. "I was curious and confused at the same time. I was worried she was being restrained against her will."

"Do you feel like I am holding you against your will? Our use of safewords was clearly outlined in the document you signed. Believe it or not, you have the power." He bent forward and sucked her abandoned nipple into his mouth. Her hips bucked in automatic reflex when the warmth of his mouth shot through her.
 

"I don't feel like I have it. I feel like I'm drowning. I'm scared."

He lifted his head and met her gaze. There was no malice or anger shining down on her. Only comfort. "Trust me you do. While there is almost nothing more that I want right now than to slake the need that's been burning inside me by being balls deep inside you, I know I can't. You aren't ready for what I have in store for you."

"Almost?"

"What?" he asked, looking confused.

"You said there was
almost
nothing more you wanted right now. What is it you want more than sex with me? Why did waiting have to be such a big deal?”

He pulled back and sat back in his chair, his hand running through his already mussed hair. "You are almost too perceptive for your own good."

Liking the direction this conversation took, she reached out and placed her hand on his bicep. Despite the layers of business suit separating their skin, she felt enough heat emanating from him to make her sex squeeze. He wasn't the only one who needed.
 

"You started it, Sir. I assume the honesty needs to go both ways."

He turned and looked at her again. "It does and I like when you call me Sir like that."

He must have seen her brows pull together again with question. His thumb immediately smoothed across her forehead. "Just then it was spoken with reverence and little thought. It came naturally. And with no sass."

Rebecca huffed out her breath. "I guess you're right. Sometimes it feels natural and others it feels awkward. But you still didn't answer my question."

Mason reached forward and wrapped his arm behind her neck, pulling her close enough their lips almost touched.
 

Her breath hitched.

"Tenacious to the end?"

She nodded.

"As you so fondly like to say, Miss Adams, fine." He emphasized her favorite word with a heavy sigh. "There is one and only one thing I want right now more than to satisfy my lust for you." He leaned forward and rubbed his lips across hers, creating a temporary spark of friction. "I want to take care of my submissive and her needs. No. I
need
to take care of you. I think my absence these last few days while I had to deal with work, hurt you and I want to make up for it."

He moved closer and she held her breath waiting for the kiss she knew would drown her. Instead he pressed his forehead to hers and closed his eyes. For a moment he looked relaxed. She had no idea how to justify that thought when she could barely see past his nose. He just looked different.
 

He'd called her
his
. The resulting jolt in her stomach alarmed her.
 

Contract dummy. You're only his because he made you say so on paper. It doesn't mean a thing beyond that.
 

"Take your seatbelt off, Miss Adams."

"But—"

"No buts. Do as I ask and take a look around."

Startled by his request when she expected his touch, she turned away and realized the plane had taken off and they were up in the clouds.
 

"Did you do this on purpose?" she asked. "Because I was nervous?"

He shrugged. "Partly. But mostly because I enjoy riling you up."

Crap. She was already in over her head. Thirty days with a man who both infuriated her and charmed her meant nothing but trouble. How was she supposed to not get attached?

She wasn't
.

Chapter Twelve

The rest of the flight went by in a blur. After a little more torture with his hands on her body, Mason relented and allowed her to redress. The flight attendant came through the cabin with a tray of fruit and cheese and a bottle of wine she couldn't remember the name of. Mason moved to the desk and read through a thick file while she indulged in plump strawberries and a single glass of white wine. He declined her offer to share. Eventually, the constant hum and vibration of the plane lulled her to sleep and they landed at their destination with little fanfare.

"Rise and shine, pretty girl. It's time to go."

"Where are we?" Damn, she hadn't meant to fall asleep. There were so many questions she wanted to ask him.
 

"Las Vegas," he said.

"What?" She shot up so fast she nearly fell flat on her face. Lucky for her he was quick and he grabbed her and pulled her into his arms.

"You don't like Vegas?"

"I don't know. Never been there. I thought I hated flying, and Vegas being all the way across the country meant I'd probably never go." She sure as hell hadn't expected to fly across the country with him.
 

"It's an experience that's for sure."

Rebecca turned her head up and examined Mason. She didn't get him. He came across more uptight than any other man she ever met, yet he spent a fair amount of time in a swanky BDSM club. Now this. Vegas of all places. She certainly didn't see that coming.
 

"What's that look for?" Again, he reached up and ran this thumb across her wrinkled forehead. "You look worried."

Rebecca twisted her lips and bit down on the bottom one. "Not exactly worried, but definitely confused."

"Pray tell."

She almost laughed out loud. He even sounded stuffy. "You are the strangest man."

He smiled broadly and the way his face transformed made her knees knock. Good God, he was gorgeous when he did that. It might even be lethal.
 

"And you, Ms Adams, have very little filter. Do you always say whatever comes to mind?"

"Actually, no. I usually listen more than I talk. I like observing."

"So it’s just me who brings out this sassiness?"

She felt the heat of a blush creeping up her neck. With him she was either tongue-tied or couldn't shut the hell up. There was no rhyme or reason for it either. He just flustered her.

 
Finally, she shrugged. "I guess so."
 

She needed to keep it cool. This wealthy, worldly man was going to see straight through her if she wasn't careful. Then she might find herself alone in a strange city with nowhere to go.

And would that be so bad?

What life did she have to go back to? Fired from her job. About to become homeless. All she had left was her dead sister's journal, and that certainly wouldn't put food on the table or a roof over her head.
 

"Shall we?" Mason released her and motioned for the door. "Our ride awaits us."