Best of 2017

by Alexa Riley

  CHAPTER TWO

  MASON

  SHE IS COMING. My sweet little girl, cara mia, is on her way to Tuscany right now and set to arrive any minute. I’ve made arrangements with her father; I’ve sent a driver to pick her up from the airport. I don’t trust myself to be around her yet. I need every second I have left on my own to remind myself I need to go slow. Ease her into it. Break her slowly, piece by piece, until Cara submits to me completely.

  I down my whiskey in one go and set the glass down on the marble countertop. The sound echoes in the spacious kitchen, and I run a hand through my dark hair as I wait. My cock is already straining against my pajama trousers, hard as a fucking rock with the mere thought of her. I remember her as if it was only a day ago that I’d seen her.

  An image flashes through my mind. Cara Newton, a vision in a white dress with a halo of flowers around her head. The heady scent of orange blossoms assaults my nose as I come closer, her innocent eyes slowly climbing up, up, up, until they reach mine. I am so much taller, so much bigger. She’s a tiny thing compared to me, a tiny fucking thing I want to own so badly it makes my chest ache.

  A noise interrupts my thoughts and I grin to myself as I hear my driver pull up in front of the house. More noise follows and I hear voices, but they are too muffled to differentiate between their owners. I look through the French doors leading out into my lavish garden as the voices come closer and closer. I hear footsteps hitting the ground and I turn around, readying myself for the sight I am about to witness.

  Truth be told, nothing could prepare me for the vision in front of me. She is beautiful, lovelier even than I remember from the first time I saw her.

  Another flashback. Cara Newton, the daughter of my best friend from work, back when I was still working in the States. She is sweetness and innocence wrapped into a feisty little package even at the ripe age of sixteen. She is stunning, she is delicious, and she is so fucking forbidden it makes my damn mouth water.

  “Hello,” I say easily, my voice low and throaty as she raises her eyes to mine, just like at her sixteenth birthday party. “I’m glad you’re here, Cara.”

  Her eyes go wide as she drinks me in. I see a flicker of recognition in her gaze. She knows who I am. It shouldn’t have an effect on me, but it does. My dick strains painfully against my thigh and Cara’s mouth opens in a soft gasp as she comes towards me.

  “Signorina Newton, this is Mr. Mason Scott,” my driver, Filippe, introduces us. His voice seems a little embarrassed since I’m not dressed properly for the meeting, but I’m sure the man’s seen worse from me. I’m not exactly known for my propriety. “Mr. Scott, this is Cara Newton.”

  “We’ve met before,” she says softly, and I grin as I approach her. Her eyes drink me in, all six foot five of me towering above her like a fucking giant. She extends a hand for me to shake and I kiss the back of it, smirking at her. She’s openly staring, her eyes resting on my toned abs and rock hard chest. If she notices the hardness of my cock, she doesn’t say a word, but a light blush colors her pretty cheeks in a shade of rosy red. “Do you remember?” she asks me sweetly. “It must’ve been… Two years ago now. At my sixteenth birthday party?”

  The sound of live music.

  The oppressing heat of the late summer day, making me sweat underneath my custom-tailored Armani suit.

  Her, tripping into my arms. Those eyes, fearfully meeting mine as if she’s afraid of me doling out punishment for what she’s done and craving it at the same time. The way she licks her lips when our eyes meet.

  No words are exchanged, she doesn’t know who I am, she probably never even finds out my name. But I make it my business to get to know everything about her before I leave her sweet sixteenth. I’m in town on business, and her father, an old colleague of mine, invites me over after years and years of not hearing from one another. I don’t stay long – I can’t, not with my flight leaving in a few hours – but it is enough to memorize the contours of Cara’s beautiful face. Enough to decide she has to be mine.

  I bide my time carefully. When she fell into my arms, the girl was merely sixteen. It wouldn’t feel fucking right. It still doesn’t, in more ways than one. But what can I say… I like beautiful things, and the moment I saw Cara Newton, I knew I had to add her to my collection.

  “Vaguely,” I reply with a smirk, and her whole face falls when she thinks I don’t remember her. I love it, love how addicted she is to attention. My eyes go over her petite body lazily, seeing all the changes two years have made to my girl. She isn’t taller at all, but her curves are those of a grown woman now. Her tits are small and pert, and her waist is abnormally tiny in the sweet summer dress she’s wearing. I want to rip it off her, now that I finally can. In fact, my hands form fists at my sides so I don’t do it right there on the spot. I want her already. I don’t want to fucking wait.

  Patience was never a virtue of mine, and seeing beautiful Cara in front of me makes me want to ravage her.

  “Filippe will show you to your room,” I tell her easily. “I’d like to meet you downstairs in an hour so we can get to know each other properly. I’m sure you’re tired from your long journey.”

  She nods, and has trouble leaving. I can already tell she feels it too, the fucking pull towards me which makes it impossible to stay away. I felt it for the first time at her birthday party, and I pulled all the fucking right strings to get her in my arms this summer. And now all that’s left to do is turn Cara into a woman.

  Filippe leads her away and I’m wildly jealous of his hand on the small of her back, even though my driver has had a boyfriend for the past thirty years. Still, I want it to be my hand, guiding her into a room on my property.

  I head into my study. I lock the door behind me and strip my pajama trousers before sitting down at my desk and turning my computer on. The monitor flickers to life and my pupils dilate as I see her. Filippe’s showing her into her room, the camera showing me her beautiful image. She doesn’t know it’s there, and there’s no way she’ll find the camera hidden in the ceiling of her room.

  I grin to myself once my driver leaves her, my hand going to my cock and slowly stroking the length of it as Cara twirls around her new room. She’s still blushing, and her lips part in a sigh as she opens the French doors leading out to the balcony. She looks at the stunning view, but merely for a few seconds. Then, she comes towards the white dressing table and looks into the full-length mirror at her perfect image.

  Another camera switches on, and I’m right there, behind the mirror, looking at the girl I’ve wanted to own for two years. The girl I am so obsessed with, I orchestrated everything, from her daddy’s approval, to a whole fake personality, just so I could fucking have her. I’m a sick fuck, and I never denied it. But from the moment I had Cara in my hands, I knew she craved this domination as badly as I did. And now it’s finally time.

  The strap of her dress falls down her shoulder and she tugs on it impatiently. A low groan escapes my throat and I stroke my dick harder, long motions threatening to make me come undone any second now. Having her this close to me, only a few hallways away, is fucking with my head. She’s all I’ve thought about for the past two years. Her mouth the only thing I’ve wanted, her sweet little pussy the one I’ve been waiting for my entire life. And as she slips her dress off her body, I can’t fucking help it. I stroke my cock harder, watching her move in front of the mirror, appraising her perfect image with critical eyes.

  She pulls the dress down and reveals a pretty, lacy pink bra to my eyes. I cup my balls, heavy with the release I’ve been building up for her for such a long fucking time. “Cara,” I groan to myself. “Jesus fucking Christ.” She’s already giving me a show, and she’s been here for mere minutes. I’m more than pleased with myself for installing the hidden cameras.

  The dress slips down her hips and pools at her feet, and she steps out of it slowly while I stare at her beautiful image. Her body is tiny, and she’s very frail, almost fragile looking. I think of all the fuc
king ways I want to hurt her and I can’t stop myself any longer. Thick, long ropes of cum spurt from my cock, landing on my desk as I groan her name and relieve myself of the tension I’ve felt for two damn years.

  I keep staring at her, slowly jerking my cock that refuses to soften. On my computer screen, Cara reaches for her bra strap and slowly pulls it down. I’m moments away from seeing her tits, and I turn my back to the monitor, getting up from my chair, naked as I am.

  I don’t want to steal this moment from her, like I did the others.

  I want her to give it to me willingly, just like she will her virgin pink pussy, her tight little ass and her sweet mouth. I know no one’s had them yet. I made damn fucking sure about that. No one touches my sweet doll until she’s ready to play with me.

  There’s an ensuite bathroom adjoined to my study and bedroom, and I head inside there now to wash my spendings from my body. The water running from the shower is cool, almost icy, and I like it that way. I already know I’m going to have trouble keeping my hands off Cara, and I need to get rid of as many stimuli as humanly possible.

  My cock grows impossibly hard in the shower again, the mere thought of Cara only a few hallways away fucking with my head so fucking much I nearly burst all over the expensive marble tiles again. I restrain myself, and I come out of the shower with my head much fucking clearer.

  I look at myself in the mirror, giving my image a critical stare as the steam fogs up my view. I’m older than her, not by a scandalous amount, but enough to raise some brows. A thirty-two-year-old man with an eighteen-year-old virgin would definitely cause some uproar in her part of the world. But I’m handsome, probably more so now than ever. My features are chiseled, stubble covering my chin and the bottom part of my face. My eyes are a dark brown and my hair is almost black. I look like fucking sin in a suit, and like a dream when it’s off, and I like to use it to my advantage.

  My gaze falls lower, to my body. I’ve worked hard to keep myself in shape, and that’s one thing about me that’s never gonna change. My chest and stomach are covered in a thin layer of hair, dark and soft and so fucking different to those pansy-ass boys Cara must be used to. I’ve heard the term ‘real man’ thrown around, and I know I would be considered. Not just because of my looks, but because I care about the woman I’m with. And when it comes to Cara… I’m gonna show her what a real man looks like.

  And fucks like.

  I exit the bathroom, toweling off with an expensive Egyptian cotton blend, when I see my phone vibrating on the bed. I reach for it, and my eyes light up as I see an incoming text from a number I’ve memorized by now.

  I’m here!

  I quickly type a reply.

  That’s good. Met the man of the house yet?

  I wish I were still in my study to see her excited face as she types a reply.

  Yeah. He seems ok.

  Handsome?

  Several minutes pass as I wait for her reply, and I towel dry my hair and get dressed in one of my immaculate suits. When I’m almost out the door for my meeting with Cara, my phone vibrates again and I laugh at her reply.

  No. He’s old and boring. You’ve got nothing to worry about.

  What a sweet little liar, I think to myself. Cara still thinks I’m Luca, her little Italian boyfriend she’s so excited to meet here. And the sadistic bastard in me can’t fucking wait to tell her Luca and I are the same fucking person.

  CHAPTER THREE

  CARA

  I CAN'T STOP THINKING about the man who greeted me in the kitchen. Could he really be my father's old friend? He looks so much younger than him, and so very different. I feel almost guilty for my intense reaction to seeing him, but truth be told, I couldn't help it. As soon as I laid eyes on the man, my body went into sensory overload, my head pounding with his sheer force and masculinity, the way he held himself, the way he kissed my hand to greet me. I should be having second thoughts about lying to Luca about him, but I can't bring myself to do it. It feels deliciously forbidden to have this secret, and I've always been a bit of a brat.

  Once I'm shown to my room by the man's assistant, I make myself comfortable. I'm still sulking about the fact that I have to spend my summer with a man I barely know, though him being ridiculously handsome is easing me into it a little.

  I slip out of my dress and take a long shower, letting the cool water wash away the traces of my long journey and the hot Italian summer. I haven't really had a chance to see much, since I was practically falling asleep on the ride here, but now I'm too excited to go to bed, even though exhaustion was threatening to pull me under only half an hour earlier.

  I get dressed again, this time in a sweet pink dress and sandals, and do my hair up, adorning it with pearly barrettes. I've always liked to dress this way - very feminine and pretty. It gives my father the impression that I'm still his little girl, and it makes me look less suspicious when I decide to play my favorite games and tricks on him.

  It takes me about an hour to get ready, and I'm a few minutes late for meeting Mason downstairs. I'm still undecided if I should really call him that, as it seems a little weird to be addressing my father's friend by his first name. I didn't even know they were very close, though I do recall seeing the man at my sixteenth birthday party.

  It would be hard to forget that moment... It was perhaps the first time I came in touch with my own sexuality, standing so close to him and feeling my pussy drip in anticipation as he held me up. He was gone the next second, and I was too embarrassed by my own body's reaction to ever bring up the incident again. But still, it happened, and it made me realize I wanted a man to hold me like that again. You could even say that day was the reason I wanted to find someone like Luca.

  My mind drifts to the mysterious date I have in Italy, and I wonder when I'll finally get to see him. I'm anxious to meet him and to finally see his face, almost as scared as I am excited. I try to push those thoughts to the back of my mind as I leisurely walk down the intricately carved staircase to the lobby.

  I see a figure looming before me. He's no longer wearing the simple, but expensive pajama pants he had on before. Now, he's in an expensive, incredibly well-cut suit that hugs his body in the best possible way. Mason turns to face me and I have to take a deep breath to focus on him in front of me.

  "Hello," I finally manage to get out, my soft voice ringing out in the vast emptiness of the beautiful hall. I was too tired to notice when we walked in, but the whole room - well, the whole house, really - is filled with expensive artwork and furniture. The room itself is like a masterpiece.

  "You're late," he tells me simply, his voice dark and delicious. I sidestep from one foot to another, giving him a strange look. God, he really is handsome, and my body is trying to do the same thing it did when I first met him at my birthday party. It's as if there's a pull between us, an invisible string he has in his hands to pull me closer. Of course, I don't expect Mason to see me that way. He probably thinks I'm just a dumb kid he's stuck with for the summer.

  I wonder if he's fucking anyone.

  My own though takes me by surprise and I find myself blushing lightly as I meet his gaze again. "You said to meet you here in an hour, didn't you?" I ask, feeling a little confused.

  "I did," he nods. His dark eyes are like pools of something ominous, so clear but dangerous at the same time. "And you're ten minutes late."

  I laugh nervously, thinking he must surely be joking. Why would he be pissed about me being ten minutes late? He's probably just trying to make a joke. A bad one, because now my body is shaking lightly in anticipation of his next words which never come.

  "I didn't realize I was on such a strict schedule," I tell him, giggling a little.

  With a single step, he has my back against the wall. I inhale sharply and it feels like I'll never take another breath again. The last remnants of oxygen in my lungs make my eyes widen and my heartrate pick up. "What are you doing?" I ask him, feeling panicked as hell.

  He's not actually touching me.
He didn't push me against the wall, I did it myself. When he stepped closer I got scared, and he's not backing away. Several inches separate us, but it feels like he's... inside me. Inside my head, inside my pussy, his long fingers exploring my virgin holes for his own pleasure. It's invasive, it's insane and... it's all in my fucking imagination.

  "This is my house, Cara," he tells me in a low, threatening voice. "Here, you play by my rules."

  I exhale quickly, my heart feeling like it's going to burst right out of my chest. "God," I manage to get out. "I didn't know you’d be such a fucking nightmare.”

  "Language!" His word is practically a slap across my face, and he looks pissed. This time, the crimson streaks coloring my cheeks are more intense. "I don't like a dirty mouth on a girl unless I'm fucking her, and she can't help herself."

  I stare at him openly, unable to believe the words coming from his mouth. I part my lips in shock, half expecting him to either kiss or slap me, but he does neither. He merely takes a step back and gives me a long, heated look that soon turns into complete disinterest. He reaches down and toys with the cufflinks on his suit while I try to catch my breath.

  "You'll find I have some rules I like to stick to," he tells me lazily. "You're going to follow them, or you will be punished. Starting with being where I ask you to be on time. Is that clear?"

  "What is this?" I ask him, feeling enraged. "Some kind of dictatorship? You can't expect me to... follow your directions like a child!" I almost curse on the spot, but his threatening look prevents me from doing so. I can't help but notice how handsome he is again, almost in a way that makes me scared to look at him. His face is so perfectly chiseled, covered with just the right amount of stubble, his lips full, his eyes dark. He's like a fucking god, and I bet he knows it, too. I bet he enjoys having this damn effect on me, which only makes me angrier.

  "It's not a dictatorship," he says simply. "But it is my fucking house."

  The fact that he deems it appropriate to curse himself drives me up the wall even more. "I'm not a kid," I spit out angrily, and he chuckles at my words, making me grit my teeth.