The Tycoon and his Honey Pot

by Sabel Simmons

  “Are you okay, Brooklyn? You look pale?”

  “I’m fine. Just tired, I didn’t sleep much last night.”

  “Is the staff giving you a hard time?”

  She grimaced. “Not really. Apart from walking circles around me, they leave me alone.”

  “Is he in?”

  She nodded and he walked in after a brief knock. He stood looking down at Mason, who ignored him and continued typing on his laptop. His jaw was rigid and his mouth pulled in a tight line.

  “Let me guess, you also didn’t sleep much?”

  He didn’t spare him a glance. “I slept fine, thank you. It was all that damn tequila you and Charles threw down my throat that is causing me discomfort!”

  Tiaan gave a burst of laughter, then sobered and pinned his eyes on his brother, who at last looked up at him. Noticing the glare in his eyes, he sighed and leaned back in his chair, stretching his legs ahead of him and raised his eyebrows questioningly.

  “How long are you going to humiliate her like this?”

  He frowned. “What are you talking about?”

  “Brooklyn! What else! God damn Mason, you and she are all over the tabloids! Have been for four weeks and now you haul her into the office and treat her with disdain in front of everyone!”

  He ground on his teeth. “Stay out of it, Tiaan. You have no idea what she did.”

  He grunted. “I have a fairly good idea. I just don’t know what you are trying to prove. You are possessive as hell over that woman and can’t keep your hands off her … you proved that last night.”

  His jaw tightened. “I said, stay out of it Tiaan! Now, if you do not have anything else to discuss, I am busy!”

  Tiaan cursed and stomped out of his office, throwing the door wide open. Mason sighed and got up to close the door. He faltered when he pulled the door nearly closed and noticed Brooklyn bent over at the cupboard, looking for a file. Her tight skirt molded over her hips reminded him of her in her skimpy shorts with her head in the engine of the Camaro on the first day they met.

  “Brooklyn, come in here.”

  She jumped up at his guttural instruction and met his eyes hesitantly. He held the door open and she aimed for her notebook as she neared her desk.

  “Leave it.”

  She stepped around him and came to a stop next to the boardroom table, her eyes lowered to the floor. He growled, irritated at the meekness, wanting, needing her to look at him with flashing eyes and to challenge him.

  He walked closer and lifted her chin with his finger, forcing her eyes to his, but she refused to meet his eyes and kept her eyes lowered. His fingers tightened in demand, yet she still refused.

  His other hand slowly pulled her skirt higher until she felt the air on her limbs and he watched her lips tighten, waiting for her eyes to rise. When she still refused, his fingers closed around the back string of her panties and he snapped it in two. She gasped and her eyes opened and glared at him. That was more like it! He smiled and felt her hands push hard against his chest. He dropped his hands, allowing her skirt to fall back partly, but because it was so tight, it bundled above her hips, still leaving her mostly bare.

  “Lock the door.” She shook her head at him and he raised his eyelids in question. “No?” She shook her head again. “Very well, I don’t mind if anyone walked in on us …” He reached for her again and she gasped.

  “I’ll … lock the door …” She started to push the skirt down, but took her hands away at his abrupt “No”, and locked the door.

  He sighed when she didn’t walk back to him. He looked at her over his shoulder.

  “On the desk, honey … just like yesterday.”

  Her breath stuck in her throat and she balled her fists by her sides, but refused to move.

  “This is the deal, Brooklyn. You walk and bend over on the desk yourself and I will make sure you find the release your body needs. On the other hand, if I have to come and get you … I will make sure you don’t.”

  She gasped, not wanting to believe his threat, but knew that he meant every word, he was that angry with her. She walked past him and swallowed at the lump in her throat when she stopped next to the desk. She felt him walking closer and stood behind her so near she felt his heat against her. She bit her lip and slowly bent forward, until she was lying flush on the table with her upper body, her butt pressed against his hard body.

  He slowly pushed her skirt all the way up to her waist, and pulled the ripped G-string out of the way, his eyes glued to her beautiful butt cheeks, firm and inviting. He could not resist and his hands stroked over the twins globes, feeling her stiffen at his touch and he smiled. He would always keep her wondering. Clearly she expected the same treatment as the day before, but his anger was not as intense as yesterday, and today, he intended to take pleasure from her delectable body.

  He pushed her legs apart slowly and smoothed his fingers down her cleft, dipping inside and growling as his fingers came away wet. He stroked further down and stroked and pinched her clit, watching her legs move listlessly. He unzipped his pants and took his fully erect shaft out. He went down on his knees and she mewled loudly when his mouth settled over her tender lips, pushing his tongue deep inside her heated body. He stroked all around the inside walls, feeling her muscles jump with every touch of his tongue.

  He delved deeper and started sucking, soft at first and then harder as if he would draw out all her juices at once. He stroked and pinched her clit and she panted and much sooner than he wanted, he felt her inner walls shiver around his tongue. She cried out as she climaxed and her juices caressed his tongue. He lapped at her, sucking deeply, drawing her climax out and when she screamed softly he rose, positioned himself against her eager sheath and surged inside with a hard thrust, all the way to the hilt and she mewled again.

  She gripped him so tight he cursed, his veins bulged at his temple with the exertion of keeping still, just treasuring her pulsing sheath around his shaft. She panted and pushed back against him. He pulled out nearly all the way then plunged back into her, hard and deep. She keened as another climax ripped through her. Her inner muscles tightened hard around him and milked him mercilessly. He lost the meager control he had and his thrusts became furious as he viciously pummeled her body, driving into her relentlessly in desperation for his release. When it came, he felt as if the life force left his body it was so hard, so intense. He shouted her name and tightened against her. She stopped breathing as she felt the heat from his release shoot inside her so forcefully; her climax slightly interrupted bowed her body backwards as it gripped her in its relentless claws once again.

  She slumped forward and he followed, his hard chest pressed her flush against the desk. He battled to draw breaths into his lungs. He realized she was breathing shallowly. He lifted his upper body on his elbows, refusing to release her, her warm sheath still pulsed and gripped his shaft tight inside her.

  It took a while before he could gather himself and withdraw from her. He pulled her upright in his arms and folded his arms around her holding her tight against him. He kissed her lightly on the side of her neck and sighed.

  “God knows, Brooklyn. I am so angry at you!”

  He turned her around and looked into her passion filled eyes.

  “How could you do this to us, honey? We had so much to …”

  His hands tightened around her shoulders and she winced. He dropped his hands and sighed, shaking his head.

  “You use the bathroom first.”

  “Mason … I know you are angry and don’t want to … maybe one day you will allow me to explain …”

  He watched her turn and she disappeared into his private bathroom. He took out his handkerchief and dried himself; a pensive look on his face.

  Maybe one day he would allow her to explain. He just hoped to God he had worked through his anger before it was too late and he destroyed every chance they ever had at a future.

  By Friday a week later, Brooklyn had reached the edge of despair. Mason did no
t let up on his anger. It was as if his anger intensified with each passing day. Not a day went by that he did not make love to her. More often than not he took her in his office, in the same degrading position and exulted in her cries of passion when her climax shook her, no matter how hard she tried not to respond when he did.

  He could not get enough of her, but now, he did not take so much care to please her anymore. He made a point of denying her a release at least once every second day. No matter how much she cried and begged, his resolve did not weaken, but he would hold her in his arms, stroking her back until the shivers of desire dissipated and she fell asleep in his arms.

  She did not know how much longer she would be able to hold back her desire for him, the wantonness cried to be released when he pulled her under him and surge inside her, the meekness with which she accepted his treatment of her. She hated every moment of his lovemaking; hated it, because he did not give anything of himself. He kept himself closed off, he drew responses from her and found his release every time, but there was no warmth, no feeling, no emotions in his touch … and she died a little inside every time.

  She moved around the house listlessly. They left the office around noon already. Mason walked in dressed for golf. He was on his way to play nine rounds with Tiaan and Charles. He frowned when he noticed her slumped shoulders.

  “How about we go to the track tomorrow? I am sure you are itching for a few laps in that red baby of yours.”

  She stiffened and looked out towards the sea. “I sold the Camaro.”

  “What?”

  “You heard me.”

  “When?”

  “What does it matter? She’s … gone.”

  He cursed, walked up to her and hauled her around. Her eyes swam with tears and he repeated the curse and drew her into his arms, tenderly soothing her hair.

  “Why, honey? You loved that car.”

  She just shook her head, turned away and ran upstairs to their room. He looked after her and drew his phone from his pocket, scrolling down until he found Michael’s number.

  “Mason?”

  “Who did she sell her car to?”

  Michael was silent at first pondering the repressed anger he could hear in Michael’s voice.

  “I bought it.”

  “Why? Why did she sell it? She loved that car!”

  “I assume you asked her.”

  “Yes, but she started crying and ran off. Tell me!”

  “No, my friend, I interfered too much already. She must be the one to tell you. But for her to do that, you will have to allow her the opportunity to tell you why she did what she did.”

  Mason gritted his teeth. “Just tell me when. When did she sell it to you?”

  “The Sunday after she spent the first night with you.”

  Mason felt as if a knife gutted his stomach.

  “I … I want that car back for her, Mickey.”

  Michael sighed. “It is still hers. I paid her the money, but I just could not do the transfer of ownership.”

  “How much?”

  Michael laughed. “Well … I see there is hope for the two of you yet!”

  He named the amount and Mason promptly went to his study to transfer the funds to Michael. Agreeing that he would bring the ownership papers with on Sunday when he brought his parents to lunch.

  With a much lighter mood, he got in his SUV and drove to the golf course.

  Brooklyn wiped the tears furiously from her cheeks and having made a decision, grabbed her handbag and ran downstairs. She groaned when she encountered Liza at the bottom of the stairs.

  “I am running into town quickly, Liza. Is there anything you need?”

  “No, thank you, but don’t be long, Mason said he is taking you out to dinner and you must dress up.”

  She smiled at the beaming woman, grabbed the keys to the SUV Mason told her was for her use. It was just after two by the time she reached the mainland on the ferry directly to Long Island and felt the adrenaline pulse through her veins as she drove to the Bethel Motor Speedway course where there was an afternoon-evening race being held.

  Michael froze when she sauntered into the pit where he was busy doing the final QC checks on Lucas’s Bentley. She rushed to him and jumped into his arms and hugged him.

  “Sis? What are you doing here?”

  Her eyes shone in anticipation. “I was hoping you would let me race the Camaro once or twice? Please!”

  He frowned down at her, not sure if this was the right thing to do. Her eyes were too bright, her body too tightly wired and he worried she would be reckless on the track in her current state of mind.

  “Where is Mason?”

  She sighed and snapped. “We are not bound by the hip! He is playing golf with Tiaan.”

  “Does he know you are here?”

  She slammed her fists in her waist and glared at him.

  “He is not my master and I do not have to ask his permission to do anything!”

  Michael sighed and gestured to one of his pit hands. This race track was the basis for the Hadley team and all their cars were stored here as well as the Camaro.

  Brooklyn’s eyes brightened when her beautiful red baby came to a stop next to her. She did not even bother to dress in the usual drivers gear and grabbed a helmet. Michael’s hand closed over her shoulder and he shook his head.

  “You know the rules, Bee. No gear, no ride. Go and change.”

  She grumbled at him, but turned to grab the coveralls Lucas held out to her and she rushed to the changing rooms.

  When she went around the track the second time both Lucas and Michael winced and fear grip him around his heart. She drove as if the devil was chasing her and only slowed slightly every time he yelled at her.

  When she nearly clipped the car ahead of her when she overtook him, Michael had enough and called Mason, who answered on the second ring.

  “Hi Michael … sounds as if you’re at the track?”

  “Yes … it’s one of those afternoon-evening rac … shit … slow down! Sorry, Mason, but you better get here.”

  Mason felt a band tighten around his heart and he battled to breathe.

  “Don’t tell me she is on the track?”

  “Yes, and driving as if the devil is chasing her! Bee … slow the hell down! She is not listening to me, Mason!”

  “Where?”

  “Same track as the last time.”

  “Is there a place I can land the chopper?”

  “Yes, there is a helipad just off the side of the track.”

  “I’m on my way. Mickey … try and keep her calm.”

  Michael snorted, “Easier said than done! If I could, I wouldn’t have phoned you!”

  Chapter Eleven

  Michael and Lucas looked at each other when Mason arrived less than thirty minutes later. He only nodded at them in greeting and took the earphones from Michael and hooked it over his ear, his eyes glued on the racing red Camaro.

  His jaw was rigid and his mouth tightened in a thin line when Brooklyn overtook one of the back ended cars at top speed, causing the driver to pull the steering wheel sharply and the car to spin.

  “Brooklyn, I suggest you ease your foot of that pedal and quickly.” His voice was deceptively calm.

  “What are you doing here? I thought you were playing golf?”

  “I was and winning as well, so I am highly annoyed at having to leave my winning streak and the only relaxation I’ve had in a year interrupted to come here.”

  “Nobody asked you!”

  “Michael did.”

  She cursed. “He had no right!”

  “Good thing he did too. I believe you have learned well over the past week that I do not make idle threats, honey. Ease your foot off that pedal and slow down.”

  In spite, she took her foot off completely and the car slowed to a near stop, until she glanced in the rearview mirror, realizing in horror that the racer behind her was nearly on top of her and with Mason yelling in her ear, shifted down and ram
med her foot on the gas pedal and the car shot forward. She gritted on her teeth as she nearly lost control of the car she was so shook up. She immediately pulled into the pit stop, gripped the steering wheel and glared at Mason as he jumped from the platform and stalked towards her.

  She watched in amazement as both Michael and Lucas followed and ran past him to reach her first and pulled her trembling body from the car. Michael glared at her.

  “God damn it, Bee! Don’t come crying to me now … you asked for it!”

  They tried to push her behind them, but stepped away as Mason’s tightly wired body stopped in front of them, his eyes black as the night, his jaw rigid and clenched. Michael still tried to pacify him, realizing that he was absolutely livid with her.

  “Mason … calm down first.”

  He looked at Michael and his voice was sharp as a shard of glass.

  “I am perfectly calm. Now … get out of my way.”

  Brooklyn only realized then that what he said was true, he was absolutely calm, but he was furious, even more so than when he realized who she was. She turned and made a beehive for the dressing rooms, but was caught around her waist before she was even half way. Her breath got cut off abruptly as his arm locked around her stomach and he hauled her towards the bench to the one side.

  He sat down and pushed her face down over his knees and before she could complain at the undignified position, his hand fell on her behind … hard … and again and again, every time harder and she wailed at the burning pain. He kept hitting her until she pleaded, sobbed uncontrollably and cried brokenly, her soft behind a ball of fire and throbbing in pain.

  He drew her upright and pulled her in his arms, gently holding her and forced the anger to shimmer down inside him. Yet, the picture of her nearly being slammed into from behind kept playing in his mind and his hands tightened around her, causing her to wince.

  “I hate you!” Her soft but passionate wail reached his ears.

  “Why?”

  “You hit me, Mason!”

  He sighed and stroked her hair. “I gave you a hiding, I did not hit you. There is a difference!”

  “I don’t see any difference!”