Freefall (The Indigo Lounge Series, #5) (18 page)

I twist my head and catch his dark gold gaze. Something raw and visceral hooks between us and I stop breathing.

“You’re so fucking beautiful. Come for me.”

My mouth drops open and a keening starts in my lumbar region that I recognize as the calm before the most intense storm I’ve ever felt. A roar fills my ears, but I still hear Mason’s hoarse curses as he pounds my ass. He slams into me one last time and holds me tight as convulsions rip through me.

I’m floating on a sea of fire and ice, of rocks and silk. I don’t know whether I’m in one piece or a thousand pieces. I don’t care about anything, or anyone, except the man whose arms shackle me, whose own hoarse cries and hot spurts flood me as we shake through our release.

Mason

“Y
ou don’t need to be back on the boat until Monday. Stay here with me.” I hear the words drop from my lips, and I immediately want to take them back. Only the ingrained poker face I perfected before I took my first step keeps my face rigid, even as my inner voice snarls,
what the fuck is wrong with you
?

Her face, fresh and make-up free from the shower we took after our sweaty session in the kitchen, twists with indecision. Ninety-five per cent of me hopes she says no. That insane five per cent leans forward eagerly, awaiting her answer.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea. I have a lot of work to do before Monday. Besides, I don’t have a toothbrush, or a change of clothes.”

I listen to the words, and I want to laugh at the pathetic excuse. The cruel freak inside wants to do just that. It wants to taunt, jibe. It doesn’t like the idea of her
no
. Hell, it rejects the idea of her leaving, period.

I silence the freak, say nothing and just watch her.

She stops eating the grilled turbot I had delivered and puts her fork down. “Why do you do that?”

“What do you mean?”

A flash of irritation crosses her face. “You know what I mean. Those
silences
.”

“What silences?” I let the taunt monster out a little, and I feel a touch juvenile, but what the hell...

“Don’t fuck with me, Mason—”

Her eyes widen at the slip and another dark, cruel feeling curls through me. Silence and the expectation of retribution pulses in the air. She licks her lips and stares at me across the breakfast bar. “Dammit, you can’t drive me to the point of exasperation and then—” She stops and blinks those incredible eyes. “Are you going to give me a pass?” she asks.

“No.”

Her face twists. “Mason—”

“No.”

She worries her lip, then straightens her shoulders. “You know what...I’m a grown-ass woman. I don’t have to take this shit punishment.”

“But you will.”

“Even if it tips the balance of my staying here to a no rather than a yes?”

“I won’t be negotiated with. Not when it comes to this.”

“Why is it so important to you?”

“Because outside of the bedroom, you’re better than crude words.”

She studies me for a few seconds, although she knows by now that I won’t change my mind. She’s a quick study like that. My cock still throbs from having her go down on me in the bathroom. She’d learned very quickly what pleased me and given me double what I demanded.

Three orgasms in three hours, and I’m still nowhere near ready to call it a night. Quite the opposite. I want to pound her, hard and relentlessly, until one of us breaks.

Slowly, she stands and walks round to my side. She’s wearing my T-shirt, which covers her from neck to knee, but she’s naked underneath. My gaze stays on her face, and I read anger in her eyes. But there’s also anticipation. I see it in the flush of her cheeks, her soft pants and the tiny twitches in her fingers.

I smile inwardly. “You do enjoy being spanked.”

Her mouth twists. “Um, that would be a definite
no
to that, sir.”

My breath strangles in my lungs, but I maintain my expression and pat the surface of the counter next to my plate.

She pulls the T-shirt over the head and slides onto the cold granite top. The chill makes her nipples pucker, and my mouth waters at the sight. The edge of my hunger is as feral and insane as ever, and the urge to rip into her overwhelms me.

I stay seated as she curls her knees beneath her and positions herself on all fours, her eyes on mine, and her mouth open on a noiseless pant. My heart picks up its beat and races. Thick, pulsing blood rushes through my veins, sending a roar to my head. Tingles jerk through my fingers in anticipation of contact with her firm, supple flesh. My cock doesn’t seem to care that it’s in danger of falling off from overuse. It’s eager and hard and rearing to go.

The stool slides back as I rise and smooth my hand down her soft, graceful back. Her skin feels like warm silk and when she trembles beneath my touch, I swallow against the pressure that climbs into my head. “You take my breath away. You’re so strong, so fierce.” My fingers slowly trace her spine, testing the ridges down to the small of her back. “But you’re also so fragile. Breakable.”

She tenses and I blink, pull myself back from the edge. “Mason?”

I shake my head to clear it, then slide my hand to her ass. “Let’s agree on something, okay?”

Unease lingers in her eyes. “Okay.”

“No half-truths. I prefer silence to lies.”

“I don’t lie.”

“You said you don’t enjoy being spanked.” My fingers glide between her ass cheeks and her wetness coats my fingers.

Her moan is jagged as if she doesn’t want to give it full life. “I don’t...but I do like what comes after...when you soothe me.”

“Ah.” I play with her clit and stop myself from diving in between her legs and gorging myself on her. “I’ll always soothe you. That’s a promise.”

“Thank you. And Mason?”

“Yes?”

“I’ll always tell you the truth, because that silence thing? I won’t work for me.”

“Understood.”

She nods in return, then nudges her ass against my fingers. I suppress another smile, right before I bring my hand down hard, once on each cheek.

She jerks and almost lands on my plate. I toy with the idea of punishing her,
then
eating my dinner off her stomach, but I catch her around the waist and ease her to the ground before I cup her flesh and rub the sting away. She blinks rapidly and breathes hard for a full minute, then her eyes defiantly meet mine.

“Are you done?”

“I’m done. You okay?” I ask.

A single nod. “Yes.”

She returns to her seat, and we resume eating. When I’m done with my steak, I carry my plate to the sink. “You didn’t answer me about staying over.” I still want her to say
no
, take the matter out of my hands.

“I’ll stay if you answer my question. Why do you use your silences like that?”

I turn and lean against the sink with my arms folded. I debate the pros and cons of granting her this morsel and mentally shrug.

“My mother once told me when I was about four that children were meant to be seen and not heard. She was annoyed with me for some slight or other. I took the suggestion a step further and hid in our mansion’s attic for a week. When they found me, she was out of her mind with worry. I was somewhat appeased, but I still wanted her to pay, especially when she had the attic sealed off so I couldn’t hide there any longer. With that hiding place no longer an option, and not really efficient in the long term, I adopted silence as my recourse. I would go days at a stretch without speaking to her and I found that, in those times, she was nicer to me.”

Keely’s face is a picture of confused wariness. “So you’re saying you were deliberately cruel so she would be nice?”

“Yes.”

“And it worked for you then, so you’ve carried that trait into adulthood?”

“Yes.”

She places her cutlery carefully on her plate before she pushes it away. “Did she...hurt you in other ways?”

This time, I don’t stop my amusement from showing. “Are you trying to explain away my asshole-ness, Keely?”

“I’m trying to understand why you chose cruelty instead of say...rebellion or the occasional brattish behavior.”

“I found it more effective.”

Sharp green eyes stare back at me. “Did you kick puppies too?”

“No. My puppy grew into a cherished companion who died fat and happy and of old age.”

“So your mother was the sole recipient of your mind-fuckery?”

“No. My father was invited to the party when the occasion demanded it. And later my wife. I’d say, she bore the harshest brunt of it.” I hear the dull roar in my head as the pressure increases, but I ignore it. I haven’t loosened the chains of my past for so long, it’s almost a relief to be having this conversation.

She slowly rises to her feet, but she grips the edge of the counter, much like she did when I was fucking her ass. The reminder sends blood surging into my cock, but I concentrate on what she’s saying with an intensity that almost scares me.

“And being cruel to them made you feel better about yourself?”

A bark of laughter rips from my throat. “Rarely.”

Her face creases. “Then why? And why the hell did they stand for it?”

“Because I was the genius son who was the answer to all their problems. The proverbial golden goose who laid basketfuls of golden eggs. As long as they were bathed in gold, they didn’t much care how I treated them. I held the power. They reaped the rewards of my power. A win-win situation.”

“But you’re divorced now, so I guess your wife decided she’d had enough?”

“No, enough was never enough for her. She relished being a pathological victim. She didn’t leave me. I left her.”

“Why?”

Why? I wonder for a second what she’ll do if I tell her about Toby. That look of bewildered confusion on her face would change to horror. And then she would leave. I’m still not decided how I feel about her leaving, so I amend my answer.

“I decided to try
not
being a masochist for a change.”

“So you didn’t leave her for another woman?”

“That’s the definition of ultimate cruelty in your book?”

Her eyelids sweep down and I straighten, not at all pleased that I can’t read her expression.

“No, I’m very familiar with how cruel people can be.”

The heavy ache behind the words jerks through me. I start to walk toward her, but she picks up her plate and approaches. I take it from her and toss it into the sink.

The sound of glass breaking makes her jump, but my hands capturing her wrists diverts her attention to me.

“What does that mean?” I demand. I’ve just confessed my own cruelty, but the thought of anyone being cruel to her sends a spike of naked rage through my body. The strength of feeling doesn’t sit well with me. I don’t know what to do with it, so I leave it sitting there, a large, shiny, unmistakeable testament of my insanity and ask, “Who was cruel to you?”

She stares at me for almost a minute. Her mouth purses and her chin wobbles once, before she shrugs it off and shakes her head. “I don’t know.”

My fingers curl and I feel her pulse throb beneath my fingers. “After what we agreed just now, that’s how you respond?
You don’t know?
”

Her gaze slides from mine and her head bows. “I know what we agreed. I’m telling you the truth. I don’t know.”

I stare at the top of her head and I grapple with the need to probe deeper. I remind myself the many reasons why I don’t want to be pulled into her shit. Or anyone else’s.

But I can’t get the thought of her willingly throwing herself into the freezing ocean out of my mind. And I know what she just said, and the powerfully intimate cloud of sadness building round her, is the reason for her actions that night. I don’t want to think about what would’ve happened if I hadn’t been there, if she’d succeeded. My chest starts to burn, and I heed the warning to get the fuck off the subject of her not being alive.

But I still want to know what she means.

“Keely, tell me.”

“I can’t,” she says, and there’s no apology or hesitation in her voice. “I won’t.”

I let it go. “Fine. Are you staying?”

She raises her head. “Do you want me to?”

I shove hard at the ninety-five per cent. “Yes. Very much.”

A single nod of acquiescence. “Then I will.”

My fingers slid up her arms and into her hair, then I’m kissing her. I’m not gentle with it. I know her pain threshold now and I mean to straddle it hard. The pressure in my head decreases when she moans into my mouth and strains closer. My hand slide down her body to grip below her ass. It’s all the urge she needs to jump up and curl her legs around my waist.

I stumble with her out of the kitchen and into the living room. I have a keen sense of direction and I know where the furniture is located, but I’m heady from kissing her and I don’t want to risk Keely getting hurt from one of the many bizarre sculptures Cassie left dotted around the place, so I reluctantly raise my head.

“Seven, lights please.”

“
Of course, Mr. S. What mood would you prefer?
” A sultry voice fills the air.

Keely’s eyes widen in the semi-darkness.

“You still have all your settings?” I ask.

“
Updated to zero one hundred eastern standard time.”

“Good, let’s go for Fuck Mood Three Point O.”

My mouth twitches at Keely’s shocked gasp.

“
Right away, Mr. S.”

A second later, the room is bathed in black and gold streams of light. They train on the large double wide sofa in the center of the room.

Keely’s gaze swings from the sofa to my face. “You’ve trained a robot to provide you with mood lighting to suit you during sex?”

“Careful, you’ll hurt her feelings if you call her a robot,” I whisper in her ear as I carry her to the sofa and lay her down. A soft gold spotlight frames her face and she looks almost angelic. I stare for a moment longer, enthralled by her stunning beauty.

“Oh? What is she, then?”

“We’ve never really discussed it.” I pull back, and when she eases her legs from my waist, I grip her knees and spread her wide. “I think she believes she’s a cross between my physics professor and my assistant.”