by S. J. West
Mason smiles. “And what do you know about my feelings for you?”
“That you love me beyond all reason. That you would do anything for me whenever I wanted and not care what it was I asked. You would die for me if it came to that because you can’t live without me. You want me so bad it physically hurts you sometimes.”
“And how do you know all that?”
“Because that’s the way I feel about you.”
Before I know it, Mason has me crushed against his body, kissing me fervently on the lips. I wrap my fingers around the collar of his grey button down shirt, knowing exactly what I want to do.
I pull back from the kiss, breathing heavily.
“I want to try something,” I tell him.
He smiles. “Something pleasurable I hope. What is it?”
“I want to undress you…and explore. Would you let me do that?”
“You can do anything you want to me, Jess. You know that.”
“I think it might help me become more comfortable with you touching me.”
Mason stands back a step and spreads his arms out wide. “Then by all means, consider me your own personal playground. Do with me what you will, Jess Riley. I’m all yours.”
His willingness at my proposed exploration makes me shy all of a sudden, but I know it’s something I need to force myself to do. Poor me. Undressing the most handsome man on the planet and having free reign to do whatever I want to with his body. When did my life become so perfect?
“Don’t get too excited,” I tell him. “I just plan to take your shirt off, nothing more.”
Mason pouts. I laugh.
“Stop,” I say, trying to make myself stop giggling. “This is supposed to be serious.”
“Well, I can’t say I’m not disappointed, but if that’s all you want to do for now, please, feel free.”
I walk up to Mason and start to unbutton his shirt. I feel his eyes watching me and look up at his face.
“Stop staring,” I order, lifting a stern eyebrow.
“Oh, are we doing that? Should I start saying ‘yes, mistress’?”
I smile because I enjoy playful Mason’s teasing. “No. I’m not into role-playing, at least I don’t think I am.”
“And here I was imagining you in a skimpy nurse’s uniform or perhaps a French maid’s outfit.”
“Stop,” I order him again, trying to concentrate on undoing the buttons of his shirt. “This is supposed to be serious and all you’re doing is making me want to laugh.”
“I know.”
I look back at his face. “Why are you trying to make me laugh?”
“Because it relaxes you. I can feel the tension go out of you when I make you laugh. It means you’re comfortable with me. And right now, you need to be comfortable with me. You need to trust I won’t do anything you don’t want me to.”
I feel tears sting my eyes because of Mason’s efforts.
“Please don’t start crying,” he begs. "If you do, I might have to take you over my knee and give you something real to cry about, young lady.”
I smile and stow the tears away for another time.
“Are you into that kind of thing?” I ask.
Mason cocks his head to the side. “Spanking?”
I nod.
“Not particularly,” he admits. “There are better and more pleasurable ways to excite a woman.”
“And do you know many of these ways?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know?”
I smile as I tug his shirt out of his slacks.
“Yes, I would. Very much. I hope you can share your knowledge with me one day soon.”
“If only you knew what I dream about at night…”
I lift one of Mason’s wrists to take out the cufflink he has there.
“What do you mean?”
“Watchers are able to dream whatever we want,” he informs me as I change over to his other wrist and cufflink.
“Are you able to control what happens in these dreams?”
“Yes.”
I lay Mason’s cufflinks on the coffee table and stand in front of him, placing both of my hands on his chest under his shirt.
“And do tell, Mr. Collier, what do you dream about?”
“You.”
I slowly run my hands down Mason’s chest and over his abdominal muscles to the waistband of his slacks.
“And what are we doing in these dreams of yours?” I ask, watching Mason’s body react to my touch.
“Do you really want to know?” Mason asks, his voice growing hoarser, breathing unsteady. “Or would you rather wait until I’m able to demonstrate personally?”
I look up at Mason and see his eyes burn with a promise of pleasure. He wants to touch me but knows he can’t. For some reason, this knowledge makes me feel powerful. I have control, not him.
I lift my hands from his skin and hear him take in a sharp breath, like me not touching him physically hurts. I walk behind him and lift his shirt from his shoulders, sliding it off his torso. I toss his shirt on the couch and let my eyes run the length of him.
“I do like this side of you,” I say.
“Yes,” he replies and I know he’s wearing a smile, “I remember.”
I rest my hands on Mason’s shoulders and slowly slide them down his back to his slacks.
“You’re more than welcome to investigate my assets,” he says.
“Hmm,” I say, taking my hands off him, staring at his assets. “I think it might be you who needs to go over my knee for a spanking, Mr. Collier.”
“I am yours to discipline as you see fit,” he replies. “I do look forward to your punishments.”
I slide my arms between Mason’s arms and torso until my chest is pressed against his back and the palms of my hands are resting on his chest. He’s taller than me so I have to stand on the tips of my toes to whisper in his ear.
“Yes, Mr. Collier, you are all mine.” I nip the bottom of his ear lobe with my teeth to punctuate my ownership.
I feel him tremble slightly under my touch.
“Do you like me touching you?” I ask.
Mason sighs. “You know I do.”
“Turn around,” I tell Mason, deciding on a course of action and taking advantage of it before I have a chance to change my mind.
Mason does as instructed and I can tell he’s wondering why I made such a request but doesn’t question me.
In one quick movement, I take my sweater off and toss it beside Mason’s shirt on the couch.
I feel like I can barely breath, and I’m finding it difficult to lift my gaze from Mason’s chest to look at his face. I have a stray thought and am glad I put on my lacey bra from Victoria Secret that morning. We’re silent for a while and I know Mason’s letting me figure out if I want to put my sweater back on or not. But, I don’t want to. I look into Mason’s eyes and feel my heart melt at the love for me I see on his face.
He watches me, not moving because I’m the one who is supposed to be making all the decisions. I walk up to Mason and reach for his right hand. I put it over my heart so he can feel its thunder.
“That’s what you do to me,” I tell him. “Sometimes I’m around you and I can barely breathe. And sometimes, like now, my heart beats so fast I feel like I’m going to have a heart attack.”
A small pleased smile touches Mason’s lips but he remains silent, content to let me go at my own pace.
I close my eyes and slide Mason’s hand down until he’s cupping my breast in the palm of his hand. I feel my body begin to tremble as years of buried memories bubble up to the surface forcing me to remember another pair of hands touching, squeezing, probing in places they shouldn’t have been, in places no man should ever touch a child.
I don’t even realize I’m crying until I feel Mason cup the sides of my face and run his thumbs over my cheekbones to wipe away my tears. Silently, he brings me into his arms and just holds me, letting me cry away the memories I’ve buried so deep I didn’t even remember ha
lf of them until now.
No wonder I’m so screwed up. No person, much less a child, should have memories so horrible. I don’t want them. I want to get rid of them. I want them replaced with memories filled with love, not blind, unholy need and selfishness.
I look up at Mason’s face and see what he told me is true: he dies a little inside every time he sees me cry. And I’m tired of crying. I don’t want to cry the tears of the child who’s first sexual experience was corrupted by a man so far gone mentally he had to have been mad to force a little girl to do such vile things with him. I don’t want those memories haunting me anymore. I want new ones, beautiful ones. And there’s only one person I want to make those memories with.
I take a deep breath.
“Mason, I…”
The door bell rings. At first it doesn’t register in my mind, but when Mason reaches for his shirt and my sweater, I have to snap myself out of the moment.
Mason is buttoning his shirt as he goes to the door to answer it.
I slip my sweater back on and try to wipe the remainder of my tears from my eyes. I sit down heavily on the couch and wait for Mason’s return.
I hear low voices speak to one another and then the door closes. Mason walks directly to the kitchen with something in his hands before coming back to sit with me on the couch.
“Who was at the door?” I ask.
“Your mother brought over some cookies for you to take to your grandfather,” Mason tells me, pulling me into his arms.
“She didn’t want to come in?”
“I told her you were resting. I didn’t think you would want company right now.”
I tighten my arms around Mason. “No, I don’t want to be with anyone but you.”
“What were you going to tell me before we were interrupted?”
I shake my head. “I’ll tell you later. Right now, I just want you to hold me.”
We sit on the couch for a while, just holding one another. I decide to wait until the moment is right to show Mason I’m ready to make love. At least, I think I am. I hope I am. But, I don’t want to make a promise I can’t keep.
After a while, Mason asks, “Have you started the soup yet?”
I shake my head against his chest. “No, in fact the groceries are still sitting on the kitchen table.
Mason hugs me one last time before standing up and helping me to my feet.
“Then let’s go make supper. I can’t take you to meet your grandfather on an empty stomach.”
Chapter 17
As Mason and I work in the kitchen together, I realize how natural it feels to be doing something so domestic with him. It makes me wonder what a normal life would feel like. One where all we had to worry about was cooking, shopping, watching TV, and raising children. The thought of having children with Mason makes me smile.
“What are you thinking that makes you smile so beautifully?” Mason asks, turning the blue flames of the gas stove burner down to let the soup simmer.
“Can we have children?” I ask. “Normal children?”
My question seems to catch Mason off guard. He looks a little bit like a startled rabbit.
“Umm, yes,” he says running his fingers through his hair. “We can have normal children. The Watcher children aren’t cursed anymore and all of our offspring live out natural human lives. Why? Do you want to have a child?”
I shrug. “Eventually. Would you want to have another child?”
“To be honest, I haven’t given it a lot of thought. I assumed we would have this conversation after we got married.”
Crap. The ‘M’ word. Perhaps Mason wasn’t quite as progressive as I thought.
“Is getting married important to you?” I ask him, needing to know if this is going to be a deal breaker between us.
“I would like to marry you,” he answers cautiously. “But, from the way you just asked that question, I get the feeling it’s not something that’s important to you.”
“Not really,” I tell him truthfully. “I don’t see the point. You love me and I love you. Why do we have to have a piece of paper to make it official?”
“It’s not just the paper, Jess,” Mason says. “It’s a declaration of our love for one another.”
“But you know I love you,” I say, not seeing the logic behind what he is trying to say. “And I know you love me. I don’t need anything more than knowing that.”
“So, if I ask you to marry me,” he says, “are you going to say no?”
I feel completely unprepared to answer his question and begin to pray for some divine intervention to break the conversation off early. Unfortunately, all remains silent and I’m forced to give him an answer.
“I don’t know,” I say to him. “If I said no, would you leave me?”
“There is nothing in this world or any other that would make me leave you. The only way I would leave you is if you asked me to.”
“Well, there’s no way that’s ever happening,” I assure him, relieved the whole marriage thing isn’t going to cause a rift between us.
“But, I would like you to reconsider us getting married,” Mason says. “Just think about it. That’s all I ask, for now.”
I nod, letting him know I’ll think about it. Though, I don’t see me changing my mind anytime soon.
After we eat, I decide I should freshen up before I leave to meet my grandfather.
“Do you still want me to go get those croissants?” Mason asks me as I stand up to go change my clothes.
“No, I’ll just take the cookies Mama Lynn made. I should probably call her and thank her.”
“I think she’s worried.”
“Worried about what?”
“Losing you to your real family.”
“She is my real family.”
“You know what I mean.”
I sigh. “I know. I got that feeling too when I told her about him. I’ll give her a call.”
I take my phone out of my pocket and call Mama Lynn. She picks up on the second ring.
“Hey, Jess.”
She sounds happy to hear from me and I suddenly feel bad for not calling her sooner.
“Mason said you were resting when I came by earlier. Are you all right? You’re not sick again are you?”
“No, I’m fine. I was just tired. Thank you for the cookies. I’m sure my grandfather will appreciate them.”
“Well, you know when I get nervous I cook.”
Mama Lynn is silent, obviously waiting for me to continue the conversation.
“Why are you nervous?” I ask.
“Well, I’m just nervous about you going to meet him.”
“I love you,” I tell her, feeling the need to reassure her of my feelings. “You have nothing to be nervous about. It’s him who should be nervous. I’m not sure he understands the family he’s about to join.”
Mama Lynn laughs. “That’s true. Well, call me after you talk to him. I would like to know how it goes.”
“Why don’t I just come over to your house and stay the night instead?” I suggest, knowing this idea will bring a smile to Mama Lynn’s face.
“Oh that’s a great idea! We can have a sleep over. Faison should be back from work by then.”
“Ok.”
“Let’s see, I’ve got chocolate ice cream and I’ll get Faison to bring home some snacks from the store. It’ll be just like when you girls were kids.”
“I shouldn’t be longer than a couple of hours.”
“Ok, Jess. See you soon.”
When I get off the phone, I feel Mason come up behind me and wrap is arms around me.
“So I guess I won’t be getting you alone again this evening,” he states, resigned to his fate.
“She needs me,” I tell him.
He kisses me on the neck. “I know. You're a good daughter. Now go get ready. I told your grandfather we would be there in half an hour.”
I turn in Mason’s arms and kiss him in a way that ensures he will be thinking about me for the rest of
the night.
“You’re sure you have to go to your Mom’s house afterwards?” He asks, breathless from the kiss.
I laugh and wiggle my way out of his arms.
“That’s just a taste of what’s in store for you, Mr. Collier. You'll have to wait for the rest in a place and time of my choosing.”
Mason crosses his arms and smiles. “You name the place and time, and I’ll make sure I’m there.”
“I’ll have to get back to you on that,” I say coyly, before turning and heading to my bedroom to change clothes.
When I close my bedroom door, I have to lean against it in order to catch my breath. The things kissing Mason does to my body just don’t seem possible. I have a hard time imagining myself making love to him and coming out of the experience still in one piece.
As I stare at the clothes in my closet, I realize I don’t have a clue what I’m going to wear. What do you wear to meet your estranged grandfather? The man who gave you so much money you would never have to work in your life again if you didn’t want to.
I decide on something simple. I pull out a black faux-wrap cashmere sweater, black jeans and black penny loafers. When I stand to look at my self in the mirror, I realize I look like I’m about to go to a funeral. I quickly dig out a long silver chain with small glass colored beads and put it on to at least add a little color to the ensemble. I grab my black wool coat and return to find Mason waiting for me in the living room.
“Ready?” He asks, holding out the small basket of cookies Mama Lynn dropped off earlier.
“As I’ll ever be, I guess,” I reply, taking the basket and holding onto it tightly, feeling extremely nervous all of a sudden.
“Don’t be nervous,” Mason says, my feelings transparent to him. “He's probably just as nervous as you are about this meeting.”
“What’s he like?” I ask. “You met him in person yesterday, right?”
“From what I could tell, he seems like a very nice man. And he truly wants to meet you and get to know you. I would know if he were lying about that.”
I nod. “One advantage to be a walking lie detector, I guess.”
Mason holds his hand out to me. “Come on. Once you meet him, I don’t think you’ll be nervous anymore.”
