The Word of a Liar (13 page)

“Me?” Ellen’s eyes widened. “What do I have to do with the two of you breaking up?”

“She thought I paid you too much attention.”

“That’s crazy.”

Ellen dropped her feet to the floor, folding her hands in her lap. Her nipples poked out beneath her nightgown. Heat blasted Mason’s groin.

“Is it? Dee Dee noticed. So did Mad Dog.”

Mason walked over to the love seat and bent over her. A soft sigh escaped her lips. He smelled wine on her breath. Timid eyes searched his.

“Ellen, if Desi hadn’t been with me, you never would have slept in Mad Dog’s tent.”

He leaned in to kiss her, but she turned her head.

“Why didn’t you tell me this last night?  You let me think it was a one-night stand.” She rolled her shoulders back. “Am I someone you’ve decided to sleep with on the rebound?” 

Mason rolled his bottom lip between his teeth and sat beside her. He took her hands in his, the heel of his boot tapping nervously.

“If I had told you Desi and I broke up a couple days ago and then showed up at your house, would it have made any difference? You would still be hurt. You would still be angry. Ever since the rally, I’ve wanted to see you. I only stayed away because I thought you and Mad Dog had something goin’ on.”

Mason brought his hand to her face, holding it tenderly; his eyes sought hers.

“I know I’m not the kind of guy you’d bring home to mother. I know one day you’ll get tired of me…. It’s inevitable…. An educated woman like yourself and a crude biker like me….”

His hand stroked the curve of her neck; his lips tasted the salt on her skin. Hoarse with desire, he spoke in a whisper. “I’ll stick around until you see the light and kick my sorry ass to the curb. I’m not a big believer in happy endings anyway.”

CHAPTER thirteen

Thunder rumbled in the black, shrouded sky. Mason’s words, unsettling as the brewing storm, alarmed Ellen. Were her feelings for him a passing infatuation?
His confession regarding the failed relationship with Desi assuaged her guilt but provoked uncertainty. She pulled away from Mason and scooted over.

Mason sprawled, stretching his arm over the back of the settee. Ellen looked up at the sky. Last night his love-making had set her free and there was nothing she wanted more than for it to happen again, but could she separate physical gratification from emotional?  She glanced at him: head tilted back, eyes closed, a gentle upward curve of his lips implied serenity. Ellen swallowed. Was she a physical pursuit he would soon tire of?  And what will he do when he meets JD?

He’ll run
, she regrettably concluded.

With a heavy sigh, she sat on her hands, rocking. Feelings teetered between frustration and fear.  “You’re very pessimistic about the two of us.”

“
We’re an unlikely pair,” Mason replied, his voice complacent as his fingers stroked the ends of her hair. “The odds of us being together for any length of time aren’t very good.”

Why become involved in the first place?” Ellen countered, the hot mix of emotions spiked. “I think you’re scared, Mason.”

She faced him. The spellbinding power of his eyes made her breathless. Struggling to resist, she continued her assault. “Underneath that biker exterior you’re scared a woman might break your heart!”

Her voice gained momentum. “You play it cool with all that macho bravado.”

She stuck out her chest, shaking her shoulders from side to side.

“Go ahead, Ellen Abrams, tromp all over my heart. When you’re sick of me—or me of you—I’ll leave peacefully, because I didn’t give a
fuck
in the first place!”

She jumped up, body trembling.

“You’re a coward!” she spat.

Mason’s jaw dropped; his eyes narrowed. Springing from the seat, he grasped her wrists, pinning them to her chest. His eyes burned with ferocious intensity.

“I’ve never let anyone call me that!” he snarled. The muscles in his neck tensed like taut cords. Air hissed across clenched teeth.

Ellen knew he wanted to hit her, but
she didn’t back down. “You’re not the kind of man I thought you were.”

“What kind of man am I?”

He squeezed her wrists so tight, her fingers tingled.

“I thought you had the guts to do whatever it took to get what you wanted and risk everything to keep it!  I don’t hold back! I’m not going into this thinking ‘well, if things don’t work out, no big deal, we shake hands and make coffee dates.’ If things don’t work out, it’s going to hurt like hell! We’ll never be the same.”

Voice quieter, more poignant, she lifted her chin.

“Paul’s death shattered my heart and changed my life forever, but it made me strong.  I’m courageous enough to believe an educated woman and a crude biker could discover something meaningful!”

She looked down. Mason released his grip and then slumped down onto the loveseat.

Rubbing her wrists, Ellen closed her eyes, steeling herself to continue.

“Get off my porch, Mason Hackett.” Her breath caught. Tears surfaced. “I don’t want to have to call the police.”

Ellen turned and then entered the house. The lock clicked.

Like a silent movie projected on a dark screen, lightening flickered across the horizon. Thunder applauded. Breathing heavily, Mason grappled with Ellen’s sudden hostility.  No one had ever dared call him a coward and kept their face intact. He’d come so close to striking her. He prided himself on his ability to maintain control in even the most dangerous situations; to be undone by a woman’s irrational ranting was unthinkable, but Ellen made him crazy. Her all or nothing attitude wasn’t realistic.
Like Desi, she wanted too much. There was no way he could make promises of any kind to anyone. Not with his lifestyle.  And he knew, with all certainty, eventually Ellen would come to realize how preposterous a relationship with him would be.  When she did, he didn’t want her to feel responsible for the inevitable conclusion. 

She had judged him incorrectly about not going after the things he wanted. He got into the
Sons of Thunder
, landed a job with Jack, and made thirty-five grand his first day.  He wanted Ellen and he’d have her.  He couldn’t remember a time when a woman refused him. But she was right about one thing: involving her in his life scared the shit out of him.

Yawning, he stretched out his legs and rolled his head. A glaring stab of lightening split the sky. Rain pelted the ground. Mason dragged himself to standing and started for his truck. Ellen bounded out the door, interrupting his retreat. 

“I forgot to close the windows in my car,” she mumbled.

As she dashed down the porch steps, another rip of lightening fragmented the night, and rain gushed from swollen black clouds. When Ellen returned, she was dripping wet. Her thin nightgown clung to her body, accentuating soft, sensuous curves. Nipples protruded; hair clung to her flushed cheeks. Mason grabbed her.

Her eyes, battle-ready, infuriated yet aroused him. His mouth assailed her lips. His tongue probed, demanding satisfaction. He twisted his hand in her hair, tugging her head back as he scored the length of her neck with his tongue. She pushed against him, but he tightened his grip. The hard bulge of his jeans pressed against her thigh. His mouth inhaled hard nipple through wet fabric.

Ellen regarded him with narrowed eyes and gritted teeth. Her body prickled with an angry, savage sensuality. Raking her fingers through his long black hair, she forced his mouth from her breast. Mason’s hands seized the bodice of her nightgown. Their eyes met, locking in a dangerously provocative showdown. They breathed heavily. Rain ran in liquid sheets over the eaves. A metallic explosion struck the earth; blue light lit Mason’s face.

As charged as the storm, Ellen’s body steamed. Salacious daring replaced anger. A compulsion to drive Mason to the brink of reason overtook her. 

“Is this the kind of man you are, Mason?”

She lowered her gaze to his knuckles clutching her nightgown.

“The kind of man who likes to play rough—show me who’s the boss? Would you prefer I’d be some pole dancer, tough as nails but knew her place when she with her old man?” she taunted.

“You bitch!” He gripped the nightgown tighter. “Is that what you want, Ellen?  Some guy to knock you around?  Well, I don’t need this shit!”

He shoved her up against the house, abruptly releasing her. Dazed, Ellen watched him go. Rain hammered the concrete. The flag on the post slapped wildly at the incongruous air.  Ellen’s pulse throbbed in her ears.  She followed him.

As Mason climbed into his truck, Ellen shouted, “I’m right, you’re a coward!”

Mason froze. Cold droplets soaked his clothes. Kicking the truck door shut, he charged up the steps. Ellen backed towards the front door. A conglomeration of lust and adrenaline pumped in her chest. Mason’s blue eyes shown out of the darkness like the eyes of a wolf, drawing near its prey. He moved stealthily; short breaths of seething anger intermingled with the sound of falling rain. When he was close enough to touch her, Ellen escaped into the house. He followed. Standing at the top of the stairs, she no longer taunted with words but with a wicked, tantalizing laugh.

It stirred Mason into a wildly sexual temper. His boots drummed across the hardwood floor, a savage beat to an ancient ritual. Looking over the balcony, her narrowed eyes and daring grin stoked his desire. He charged up the steps, but Ellen slipped out of view. When he entered her room, she stood in the center, mouth parted, breathing heavily. Mason pounced. Gripping the neckline of her nightgown, he drove her into the wall. A flash of terror in her dark eyes made him smile inwardly, but then her defiance rallied.

“Come on… you dumbass biker!” Ellen goaded. “Let me see if you have what it takes to satisfy a woman like me.”

Her chin lifted, jaw clenched. Mason leaned forward, his knee pressing into her thighs, forcing them apart. Ellen’s rapid pulse beat against his chest. With calculated rhythm, Mason massaged his knee against her crotch while scraping the fingertips of his left hand up her neck and across her jaw. Simultaneously, his right hand cupped a breast; his teeth nipped her earlobe. Traces of perfume mingled with sweat. Heat throbbed deep within his pelvis, hardening his prick.  He wanted to mark her, show her he wasn’t a man to be toyed with. He squeezed her nipple until she whimpered.

A stinging slap across his cheek made him pause. Ellen’s enraged eyes challenged him.

"You’re hurting me,” she admonished.

Mason pressed her shoulders against the wall, his mouth devouring the soft curves beneath the clinging wet nightgown.

“But darlin’….” He cocked his head. “I’m giving you what you asked for.”

“Bastard!” Ellen sputtered.

Her heaving chest made Mason more cognizant of her lush, barely hidden breasts. Crumpling the bodice, he ripped it in two.  The garment fell around her hips.

“Mmmm!” he sighed, admiring round perfections, soft pink areolas and ripe firm nipples. Lifting them to his mouth, he suckled each one.

His aggressiveness stunned Ellen, yet a wet excitement tingled in her between her thighs. She should throw him out. Punish him. Punch holes in that overblown ego. But her traitorous body wouldn’t hear of it.  Her fingers tangled in his hair and then slid down around his shoulders, smoothing over the damp, cotton T-shirt. She wanted him naked. Sliding against his thigh, her clit hardened.

Mason released her breasts, removing the remnants of her nightgown.

“Lie down!” he commanded, voice hoarse and imposing.

He tore the cloth into long strips. “I’m going to tie you to the bed.”

He snapped the material taut as his eyes captured her in a lewd embrace. Ellen remained against the wall, biting the tip of her thumb nail. An intrigued grin slid seductively across her luscious mouth, yet she didn’t move. Mason wondered if he’d gone too far. She wasn’t a timid virgin, yet he knew Ellen was unaccustomed to this kind of love making. He cautioned himself to proceed at a slower pace to reassure her.

He gentled his voice. “Lie down.”

Lifting her chin slightly, Ellen obeyed and sat on the bed. She scooted her buttocks toward the pillows, arms supporting her torso, legs bent and slightly parted. Her eyes never left his face. Mason striped off his wet T-shirt and undid his belt buckle. Resting on the edge of the bed, he pulled off his boots, rose and stepped out of his clothes. He faced Ellen.

His eyes burned with an innate flame of passion, his chest heaved, and his arousal was evident. Ellen shivered. The thought of being tied up—helpless—while he touched her and did god only knows what jolted every nerve in her body with sexual desire. 

“Lie back and put your arms over your head.” 

A softness had replaced the anger in his voice. She laid her head on the pillows and reached up to touch his face, but he captured her hand.

“No! Not unless I give you permission, understand?” His eyebrows arched.

“Perfectly.”

Ellen smiled, enjoying the rules of their game. She lay her arms above her head as he had directed. Mason tied the remnants of her nightgown around each wrist and secured them to the brass posts of the headboard. Next he tied her ankles, leaving Ellen spread eagle and exposed. Embarrassed, she giggled.

Mason stood at the end of the bed.

“No laughing!” he scolded.

“I can’t help it.” Ellen suppressed another bout of the giggles. “I feel silly and a tad bit self-conscious.”

Mason drew up alongside her. God, she wanted to touch his hair. The way it hung down around his face and shoulders made her wet. Admiration colored his gaze, quieting her insecurities. His hand brushed across her breasts; immediately her nipples peaked.

“You’re beautiful like this,” he whispered.

His hand descended to her warm, velvety folds tugging on the soft curls, he plied her swollen labia. His fingers moved to her ripening bud, stroking tenderly, then curved up inside her, playing her body with the expertise of an accomplished string musician. His tongue slipped into her mouth, consuming her soft involuntary moans.

“You’re so wet, Ellen,” he murmured in her ear. “You’d like me to give you satisfaction, wouldn’t you? Put an end to your need?”

She nodded.

“But I want to play.” His fingers abandon her, and he brought them to her mouth. 

“Would you like a taste?” he asked, eyes blazing.

“No!” Ellen tugged on her restraints and turned away.

He was moving too fast and needed to retrace his steps to bolster her confidence and make her compliant. 

“Look at me, Ellen.” His voice, gentle as the patter of the rain outside, made her look.

“Last night I made a promise that I wouldn’t do anything you’re not comfortable with. I’m a man of my word.”