Best of 2017

by Alexa Riley

  CHAPTER SIX

  MASON

  SHE'S SHIVERING ALREADY and I've barely got my hands on her. I don't like this recent development. She wasn't supposed to see the painting until a few weeks into her stay with me. But it is what it is, and I need to make the best of it.

  "Well?" I ask her, raising my eyebrows. "Answer me, Cara. You know I'm stern with my punishments. Or did you forget about last night already?"

  She takes a step backwards, nearly toppling over the easel. A deep blush colors her cheeks and she's looking anywhere but into my eyes. Her hands are shaking and I put my own up as a sign that I'm not trying to hurt her here, even though she came into my atelier uninvited.

  "I didn't touch anything," she tells me in that shaky voice. I don't know why, but her fear is sexy to me. The way she trembles, the question mark at the end of every sentence she utters. It's sexy in its own right, and the desire to push her against the wall and just fucking take her is difficult to resist. I know I have to wait, though. I've been so patient so far, I can last a little while longer.

  "I know," I tell her gently. "I'm not trying to hurt you, Cara. Just calm down, okay?" She nods, but the motion is panicked and scared. I approach her slowly, like a hurt doe on the road, and even though I'm not touching her, she gasps as if my hands just seared her skin. "I'm not gonna do anything to you, nothing you don't want."

  "Okay," she manages to get out, swallowing thickly. Her eyes go to the easel and my own follow her gaze, looking at the innocent expression on her sixteen-year-old form. I painted her right after her party, starting the moment I came home and barely stopping to eat and sleep until I finished. I needed to have her on canvas, the way I remembered her from the day my obsession began. I was proud of the portrait - it was definitely one of my best. A selfish part of me hoped Cara liked it too, while another one wanted her to question me about it. And she didn't fucking disappoint.

  "Your work?" she asks, gathering up courage and pointing towards the canvas. I come to stand behind her, noticing the way goosebumps prickle her skin as I stand behind her.

  "Yes," I tell her simply. "I'm sure I don't have to remind you of the occasion." A blush creeps up her neck and she looks away, her eyes fixed on the floor. Her neck is exposed, and I want to sink my teeth into the gentle skin of her shoulder.

  "Do you like it?" Fuck. I sound uncertain, almost needy for her approval, and I am already regretting my question. She needs to see that I am above her in every way, she needs to follow my every command. And besides, I don't need her damn praise.

  She looks at me over her shoulder, her fleeting gaze connecting with mine. She looks self-assured and almost cocky as she does so, and I curse inwardly again for letting that question slip. She'll pay for that cockiness later.

  "Yes, I do," she smiles. She steps closer and admires the painting from up close. "I didn't know you were a painter."

  "A hobby," I wave my hand dismissively. "You know I work in investments, just like your father. Painting's just a hobby I picked up in Italy. Nothing special, I'm merely a student for now."

  "Looks pretty professional to me," she murmurs under her breath, and I grin to myself. A sharp fucking eye. I thought her interest in art and its history was merely a ruse to get to Italy, but it appears to be at least a little bit genuine. Cara looks at me again after inspecting a painting.

  "Yes?" I ask her, grinning under her inquisitive gaze.

  "I'm just wondering," she says softly. "But... no, I'd better not ask."

  "I'll allow a question," I tell her lazily, mostly because I want to see what she's going to ask. "But only one. Shoot, Cara. Give me your best shot."

  "Okay..." Her eyes sparkle as she looks at me again, genuine interest in those pretty blue eyes. "You have an American name, yet you live in Italy. What brought you here?"

  "A woman," I tell her simply.

  "Oh." Her small exhale sounds almost regretful, but I decide not to dwell on it. She'll find out more when the time comes, but I don't intend on getting too personal with Cara until I see fit. "And she was Italian? Do you speak Italian yourself?"

  "I said one question," I remind her with a grin, and she giggles, blushing again.

  "I'm sorry," she says, and from the strained way she utters the words, I can tell she's not used to apologizing a whole lot. "I'm just curious. Seems like you know a lot about me, and I barely know you."

  "I like it that way." I turn to leave after those words, having had enough of this exchange, when her small hand tugs on my sleeve.

  "Mason?"

  Just that, the feel of her fingers gripping my sleeve, is enough to send me into a fucking frenzy. God, I want her so fucking badly. I thought I could resist her when she finally came here, but with Luca around her, I just want to stake my claim already.

  "What is it?" I bark at her, because fuck me if I'm going to deal with my feelings right now.

  "I just... I like the painting." She has trouble getting the words out, and I turn around to face her again, crossing my arms in front of my body. She's cowering in front of me, tiny and sweet and so fucking delicious compared to my strong stature. "I just wanted to tell you, I feel honored you painted me. I love it."

  "Thank you," I tell her roughly. I approach her again and this time, she doesn't shrink away from my touch as I reach for her. "I needed to be tough on you yesterday, Cara. I want you to understand this is my house, and here, you need to play by my rules. Is that clear?"

  She hesitates, and my grip on her arm tightens. Finally, she looks up at me and nods slowly. Her eyes are crystal clear, the blue of them almost mesmerizing. She looks so different now from the first painting I made of her, and I believe it's time for the second painting. Pleased with this decision, I grunt and pull her towards me.

  She stumbles into my arms, but she doesn't shy away from my touch this time. I let my fingers roam her pretty face, down her straight and prominent cheekbones and her small chin. She parts her lips as if she expects me to touch them, but I don't. Instead, I turn around to leave.

  She lets out a small gasp, followed by a moan as she calls after me. "Mason..."

  "I have work to do," I tell her simply, and head out of the room. Before I can step out the door though, she's appeared in front of me, a little banshee in pink and white, stomping her foot on the ground angrily.

  "You can't just leave!" she tells me defiantly, and her bottom lip pouts and trembles as if she's about to start crying. "I... You can't treat me the way you did yesterday and never give me an explanation."

  I stare at her blankly, wondering where this spunky little personality came from. Her father had told me Cara definitely had a temper, but I hadn't been privy to it until now. But as she stands in front of me with her hands crossed in front of her body, it becomes clear what her father meant when he told me she can be a handful.

  "Cara," I tell her slowly, warning her. "You need to get the fuck out of my way and let me work."

  "No," she whines. "I want to know why... you touched me like that yesterday. Why you... spanked me like a little child!" She blushes and her small fists hit my chest, albeit hesitantly. "I need to know why."

  "Why?" I groan into her face, and in a second, I have her pushed against the wall, my breath oppressing against her cheek as she tries to breathe, her frightened eyes dancing over my face. "Because it makes you feel like this, Cara," I groan into her ear. "Because it makes you so fucking weak at the knees you feel like you're about to pass out. Because it makes you want me, because it makes you submissive the way I want you to be. It makes your knees shake and your mouth water and your fucking pussy flood." She moans in protest and I chuckle. "Am I wrong, Cara?"

  "Y-yes," she gets out, giving me an angry look.

  "Is that so," I say. "So if I reached between your legs now, your little pussy wouldn't be soaking through the scrap of fabric you wear as panties? You wouldn't be fucking desperate to have me inside of you, Cara?"

  "No," she says, and it comes out as a question.

>   I stare at her for a long time, unsure whether I love or hate this new spunky personality of hers. "Alright," I tell her simply. "Prove it then. Prove you don't feel attracted to me."

  She gives me a pissed off look, and I can almost see the gears in her mind running. Before I have a chance to react, the little vixen reaches for my shirt and pulls me in. I could've stopped her, but I let her do what she wants, and her hot, pouty little mouth melts against mine in a desperate, angry kiss.

  She's not skilled in kissing. She kisses so needily it makes my cock tighten impossibly hard though, and I put both hands on the wall on either side of her to stop myself from tearing her panties off. Cara bites my mouth a little too hard and I grunt as she sticks her pink tongue in my mouth, demanding my attention, demanding I return her kiss.

  The little slut stole our first kiss, and I didn't have it in me to stop her. Even though it's probably her first kiss and she doesn't know shit about what she's doing, her sinful lips on mine make my cock throb against my thigh.

  She reaches up from my chest, her fingers trembling as she fumbles with my buttons, and that's when I realize I really have to fucking stop her. If I let her go further, I really won't be able to stop myself.

  I grab her wrists and pin them above her head. She moans, a dirty little sound that makes me want to explode inside that mouth of hers. "You don't call the shots here, little girl," I tell her darkly. "You know I could fucking punish you for doing that?"

  "Yes," she moans, and it almost sounds like she's begging for it.

  I shouldn't, but I reach between her legs anyway. I slap her thighs apart and she starts breathing so hard she can barely keep herself up. I toy with the skin on the inside of her leg for a while before I slide a finger between her pussy lips, over her panties.

  "Soaked," I tell her unnecessarily, and she whimpers, thrusting her hips out at me.

  I let go of her, and she crumples to the floor in a little heap. "Get out of here, Cara," I tell her darkly, and it takes her a moment to pick herself up. For a moment, she's just a sullen teenager who's pissed at the world and then some. But the look she gives me, so broken and sad, almost makes me call her back. But this is what I have to do. I have to deal with her attitude, I have to break her down slowly but surely until she's the perfect toy. Only when that's done will I allow myself to play with her.

  She walks out of the atelier on shaky legs, and she doesn't look over her shoulder as she leaves. I close the door behind her firmly, and get to work.

  I prepare my colors and paints and a fresh canvas on my easel. I imagine the sight of her the way I saw her last night, after I stripped her and put her to bed following our little playing session. The way her naked back was turned towards me, the yearning look she gave me over her shoulder as she pulled a sheet over her nakedness and buried herself inside the bed, with me sitting on the armchair. So close, but so far from her at the same time.

  I take my brushes out and I start to paint.

  TIME GETS AWAY FROM ME, and I barely notice anything going on around me. I do realize it's getting dark outside, and that's my clue to finally stop painting as I prefer the natural light of the sun when I work. I admire what I've done so far before stripping off my paint-stained shirt and walking out into the library without a tee.

  I head out into the hallway and into my wing of the house, taking a long, ice cold shower to clear my fucking head. The pinpricks of the cold water against my pores are torture, but I tell myself I need them for ruining my plan.

  Cara and I weren't supposed to kiss today, but I fell for her charms like some teenage sucker. I decide I need to get back at her for what she did, and as I get dressed in slacks and a simple button-down shirt, I intend on doing just that.

  However, when I walk outside of my bathroom, I find Luca sitting comfortably on the couch in my room, grinning at me as I walk out of the room.

  "Hello," he tells me smoothly. "I thought it was high time I said hello to daddy dearest."

  "What the fuck do you want?" I ask him, barely able to contain my anger. I towel dry my wet hair and throw the used towel on my bed. "I don't have time for your shit right now."

  "You're not going to say hello to the prodigal son?" he asks me, feigning shock. "I've been home for two days now and you haven't deigned me with your presence."

  I stand in front of him, crossing my arms and glaring at him.

  "Alright, alright." Luca laughs and gets up. He's not as tall as me, but he has filled out over the year, since I last saw him. "I see you've brought in a tasty treat for yourself for the summer. Cara, is it?"

  I approach him menacingly, saying, "You stay the fuck away from her."

  "It's her that's having trouble staying away from me," he grins, smoothing a hand through his dark hair. He looks so much like me it's unnerving. "She thinks I'm her little penpal boyfriend."

  I can feel the color draining out of my face, and the little prick has the nerve to laugh at me. "Some fucking game you're playing, old man. Better not ruin anything for you, then."

  "What do you want?" I hiss, because clearly, this is about one thing only. He wants something in exchange for staying away from Cara, from letting me do whatever the fuck I want with my girl.

  "Twenty grand," he says simply. "In my account, tomorrow."

  "Done," I tell him coolly. "Now get the fuck out of my face."

  "It will do," he nods, grinning at me. "For now."

  "What the hell are you doing home, anyway?" I ask him roughly. "Weren't you supposed to spend the summer with some friend?"

  Luca shrugs. "Apparently, the family frowns upon people deflowering their virgin daughter. You know I have a thing for virgins. Must run in the family."

  He squarely avoids my punch, and with those words, he leaves my room. I curse out loud, punching a wall instead. Blood runs down my knuckles, but there's no sign in the wall - this house is a solid stone and brick build. Still, Luca has me worried. He could fuck everything up with the wrong word.

  I don't know what came over me when I used his name to play with Cara. I didn't think he would be at the house this summer, and his sudden arrival has changed everything.

  If he fucks up things with Cara, so help me God, I will kill him.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CARA

  I HAVEN'T SEEN either Mason or Luca in a few days now, ever since that kiss in the atelier. I still can't believe I did that, kissed my father's friend in a way that would make any girl blush. I feel embarrassed, but I also feel angry, because he hasn't sought me out once since then even though I was certain he was going to punish me again. But maybe this was his punishment - ignoring me completely and letting me be all on my own.

  Luca was a mystery in my eyes. Ever since we met in the garden, he hadn't replied to any of my texts or messages. Not that I sent too many - I had been too preoccupied worrying about Mason. But I still had no idea what he was doing on Mason's property or who exactly he was. He simply told me Mason would explain everything soon, but as for now, I am still clueless.

  I find myself spending more and more time in the gardens. There hasn't been a single expedition into town since I've been here, which I'm bitter about. I thought this whole summer was supposed to be about me exploring Italy, and so far, I've barely seen any of it. I am mostly left to myself, and so I decide to explore the grounds of the property, always feeling Filippe's watchful eyes on my back. I haven't wandered back to the secret garden in a long time now, even though I feel the pull of the place on my soul. But I decide to respect the wishes of the man of the house. Besides, I'm too terrified he'll punish me again if he catches me there, anyway.

  I eat dinner alone again for the third day in a row. I'm about to head back into my room when Luca walks inside the dining room, his walk confident, his broad shoulders held back and a winning smile on his face. Instead of feeling that surge of heat between my legs, the one that always happens when I read his messages, I feel something I can only describe as fear. It jabs my heart and I clear my
throat, hoping Luca didn't notice anything.

  "Where have you been lately?" I ask him, getting up from my seat at the table. He blocks my way and I give him an almost scared look. He's intimidating in a much different way than Mason. He plain creeps me out sometimes, while Mason makes my pussy drip with a single look, sending anticipation and fear through my veins at the same time.

  "Busy," Luca says, stealing some garlic bread from my plate and chewing. "I'm curious, do you know who I am yet?"

  "Luca," I say simply, and my voice shakes. For someone who I've exchanged hundreds of messages with, he seems like a complete stranger. "I assume you work with Mason? Maybe like an apprentice, or an assistant?"

  He laughs heartily and gives me a doubtful look, saying, "You can't honestly believe that."

  "No one's told me a thing," I protest wildly. "You've both just left me to fend for myself, pretending I'm not even here!"

  All of a sudden, Luca's hand sneaks up the side of my body and his fingers grip my throat. I mewl, but it doesn't feel sexy. It feels wrong instead, and I clench my legs shut, worried about his next move already. "Please," I manage to get out. "Don't hurt me."

  "Why shouldn't I?" he growls in my face, and for the first time, I see the almost animalistic quality in his gaze. He looks dangerous, not in a way that would make me excited, but in one that makes me shiver with fear. "There's no one here to stop me."

  "Get your fucking hands off her."

  Luca looks over his shoulder lazily, never giving up the grip on my throat. Mason's standing behind him, shooting him looks that could kill. "Or what, old man?" he asks him, and I laugh at the ridiculous insult. Mason is probably on the younger side of thirty, closer to Luca's age than my father's. "You can't keep me away from her forever."

  Mason approaches us both and I squeeze my eyes tightly shut as he peels Luca's hand off me and throws him against the wall. I hear someone shriek and only a moment later come to realize the sound came from my mouth. Mason has Luca pinned against the wall, the two men glaring at each other like they're exchanging a silent dialogue I'm not privy to.