He enjoyed nothing more than giving this woman pleasure. She was so responsive to his every touch and it thrilled him, how well they moved together.
Already she was close, he could tell. Gripping her hips, he brought her down hard, filled her as deep as he could. She ground down on him, unabashed in her movements, not embarrassed for what she reached for. And what she reached for, he fully planned to give her.
Within minutes she stilled above him, and then her orgasm rippled through her, her body giving a jerk before he felt the flutters and clench of her pussy around his cock. She milked him, her moans coming with every shudder wracking her body. He watched in mute fascination as she came all over him.
She pushed him into his climax and he rode it, closing his eyes as he came so hard, he saw stars. Sparkling, shooting stars flashed beneath his closed lids, his breath came in ragged gasps, his entire body quivering with exhaustion after the two overwhelming orgasms he’d just experienced.
Blake slumped against him, her body wrapped all around his, his cock still buried inside her. She kissed him, her lips soft and sweet, and damn if he didn’t want her again. All sweaty and sticky and tired, yeah, it sounded good, real good to give it another go.
So he rolled her over onto her back and with a wicked smile, gave it another go.
She didn’t offer a single protest. Not that he believed she ever would.
Chapter Thirteen
Blake dropped her paintbrush onto the table and walked over to the window, grabbing her cell from her desk along the way. With a sigh, she scanned through her contacts until she came upon Suzanne’s name and selected it to dial.
Suzanne answered immediately, her voice rushed, breathless. “Hey, are you able to come over this morning?”
“Do you still want me to?” Blake glanced out the window, watched the heavy rain fall in steady sheets. It had started in the middle of the night and hadn’t let up. The dark, steely gray sky indicated it wasn’t going to stop any time soon.
“I know the weather is awful, but I really need your support.” Suzanne’s voice lowered to the barest whisper. “I’m having man trouble. Remember that guy I told you about?”
Blake perked up. Suzanne had never revealed the former someone who lurked in her past. She knew Suzanne had come to Whitney Island to get away from a certain man in particular. Well, she at least assumed that.
“You want to meet at the coffee shop?” Blake started moving about her studio, putting supplies away in anticipation of her leaving. A latte and a muffin sounded good right about now. She hadn’t eaten any breakfast and Mason was still in her bed. Usually he’d be in the kitchen, cooking them breakfast by now.
She was getting spoiled. That’s why she let him sleep in this morning. She’d woken up extra early, full of energy and itching to get her hands on her paintbrush. Since they’d stayed up far too late doing deliciously wicked things to each other, she’d left him alone.
Glancing at the clock, she noted it was almost ten and Mason still wasn’t up. She must’ve really worn him out.
A wicked smile curled her lips at the thought.
“I—I can’t meet you. Do you mind coming over to my place?”
Blake instantly sobered. Her friend seemed in trouble and she needed to concentrate on that. “Oh. No, I don’t mind. When?”
“Right now, if that’s okay? I really, really need to talk to you.”
The urgency in Suzanne’s voice was clear. Blake wondered what had got her worked up so terribly.
“Okay. Give me a few minutes to clean up and then I’ll be there. I need your address though.”
Suzanne gave her the information and Blake hung up, bustling about the room, picking up everything she’d strewn about in the last couple of hours. Grabbing her coffee cup, she went to the kitchen and set the mug in the sink, then headed back toward the bedroom.
Cracking the door open, the room was extra dark, the blinds shut and curtains drawn. Mason lay in bed, the sound of his deep, steady breathing filling the room. She padded quietly across the floor and stopped on his side of the bed, watching him sleep.
He looked vulnerable while in slumber, a word she would normally never use to describe Mason. His face was softened by sleep, his lips full and parted, those thick, dark lashes like little fans brushed against his skin. His dark hair mussed, one leg was slung out and over the covers.
Blake sighed. She hated waking him, especially for this. She wouldn’t be gone long and she’d call or text him the moment she arrived, let him know where she was. Suzanne probably didn’t want him around. Clearly she was looking for some one-on-one girl talk and Mason would be forced to sit outside.
She wrinkled her nose. How she hated that he didn’t trust Suzanne but really, she was a big girl, she could handle herself. What could happen to her?
Deciding to leave him a note, she found a notepad and scribbled a quick message, then left it propped against the lamp on the bedside table. It was best if she slipped out for a little while, offered comfort and an ear to Suzanne and then come back.
Besides, she wanted to prove to Mason that Suzanne was perfectly harmless. Maybe she’d even ask her about the fake name and whatnot. If she could get Suzanne to confess her past, maybe that would bring them closer.
Leaning over him, she dropped a quick kiss to his stubble-roughened cheek. She grabbed her purse from where it rested on her dresser and quietly snuck out of the house.
* * * *
The place was small, just as Suzanne had described, with a giant pine tree that took over the entire front yard and blocked the door and windows. An unfamiliar older model sedan sat in the gravel driveway and Blake parked behind it, wondering who it belonged to.
Was someone at Suzanne’s house? God, could it be the guy she was referring to?
She cut the engine and sat, contemplating what she should do. Call first and make sure Suzanne was all right? Or just walk in and bust up whatever kind of conflict might be happening inside?
Deciding the latter tactic, Blake climbed out of the car and ran toward the front door, whipping the hood of her coat over her head. The rain still fell steadily, the air so bitterly cold, it stole her breath. She shuffled up the slippery steps, rapidly knocking on the front door.
Suzanne opened it, her face a mask of extreme exhaustion, her skin pale, her eyes droopy. She looked so terrible, Blake had to stifle the gasp that wanted to spill.
“Suzanne.” She couldn’t come up with anything else to say. Her friend appeared ill, her normally olive skin had a greenish tint to it and her dark eyes which usually flashed with vitality looked…dead.
“Come in.” Suzanne opened the door wider and Blake walked inside, a blast of chilled air greeting her. She shivered, reluctant to take her coat off though she at least pushed back the rain spattered hood.
The living area was dark, the furniture sparse and old, though it appeared Suzanne at least decorated as well as she could, considering what she worked with.
“It’s kind of—brisk in here.” Blake rubbed her hands together, wishing she’d worn gloves.
Suzanne shrugged. “I try not to run the heat too much. It doesn’t work that well anyway. Besides, I can’t afford it.”
Blake’s heart panged. She had no clue what it was like, unable to pay the bills, having to make sacrifices.
It made her feel guilty.
“Too bad you don’t have a fireplace.” Blake glanced about the room, then turned to smile at Suzanne. “You could light a fire. That would at least keep this room warm and it’s cheaper than running the heat.”
“Yeah.” Suzanne didn’t seem to be paying much attention to the conversation. She kept looking down the short hallway that must’ve led to the bedrooms, her gaze skittering to it again and again.
Blake struggled to find something to say. After all, it was Suzanne who begged her to come here. Why wasn’t she talking? “Is someone here? There’s a strange car parked in the driveway.”
“Listen.” Suzanne to
ok a step toward her, so close she could speak directly in her ear. She lowered her voice. “I need to talk to you, Blake. Quickly, before he comes back out. Is your shadow here?”
Blake wrinkled her brows. Anxiety rolled off Suzanne in giant waves, she could practically smell her friend’s fear and worry. “My shadow?”
“You know, your Secret Service agent, the guy who’s always watching over you.” Suzanne glanced toward the hallway yet again. “We need him to come inside. Now.”
“But he didn’t come with me. You said you needed to talk so I figured you’d want some privacy.” Panic surged through Blake and her heart started to trip over itself. This wasn’t good. Whatever was happening, Suzanne was clearly close to losing it.
“He didn’t come? He didn’t follow you? Shit!” Suzanne grabbed Blake’s arm so tight it hurt, even through the thick layers of her sweater and coat. “You need to get out of here. Get out and go get your agent man. Hurry.”
Blake shook off Suzanne’s death grip and headed toward the front door, her mind racing. The one time she didn’t tell Mason she left and now she was in some sort of perilous situation?
Mason was going to kill her. Especially after last night’s discussion and the way he’d warned her off Suzanne. He’d been right. Something was wrong with her. And Blake was almost too scared to find out what.
“Maybe you should call the police too. Yeah, call them. Without him here, I don’t know what we’re going to do.”
“I have my phone.” Blake dug into her too large purse, searching for her cell yet unable to find it. It always sunk straight to the bottom of her bag and she blew out a frustrated breath. “I’ll call Mason.”
“You need to leave. Call him but get out of the house. Hurry.”
They both stood in front of the door, Blake pawing through all the crap she carried in her purse. Damn it, why didn’t she use the little side pocket made specifically for her phone?
“You’re not calling anyone.”
The voice was deep, angry and unfamiliar. Blake stilled, her back to the man who just spoke and Suzanne slumped beside her, shooting Blake a pleading look.
“Hey, ah, Rich. Blake showed up.” Suzanne smiled and nodded toward Blake. “I’m so excited you two get to meet.”
Suzanne didn’t sound particularly excited. More like petrified.
“Blake, meet Rich.” Suzanne nudged Blake in the side with her elbow and she turned to see a very skinny, scraggly looking man standing before her, clad in dirty jeans and a long-sleeved, faded black T-shirt.
He wiped his hand on the side of his jeans before he went toward her, the same hand extended for her to shake. The stench of alcohol overpowered her nostrils and Blake tried not to flinch as she shook his hand.
His grip was too tight and his smile too wide as he pumped her hand. “I’m Amber’s husband. It’s nice to meet you.”
“Amber?” She snatched her hand away from his grip, confusion swamping her. Who was Amber?
“Amber, Suzanne, whatever you want to call her.” Rich shook his head and went to grab a can of beer from an open ice chest that sat on the floor. He cracked it open, the sound violently loud in the too quiet room. “So you’re the vice president’s daughter, huh? What’s that like?”
Blake stiffened, shooting a glance in Suzanne’s—Amber’s?—direction. Her friend wouldn’t so much as look at her. She was married? And she told her husband about Blake?
Odd. And discomforting since Suzanne never mentioned she even had a husband.
“Honestly, it comes with both its perks and disadvantages,” Blake said slowly, not wanting to reveal any more.
The man laughed uproariously, as if she’d told a funny joke. “I bet it comes with perks only, sweetheart. Like a lot of money.”
Blake was silent as she watched Rich pace back and forth. He glared at the two women who still stood by the door, and he waved his hand in the general direction of the couch.
“Sit down. Now. Standing next to the door like that makes me nervous. Like you’re going to escape.” He patted his backside. “If you’re smart, you won’t try. I got something that’ll nip it in the bud real quick.”
Blake followed Suzanne over to the couch where they both sat. Did he have a gun stashed in his jeans? Panic filled her. What the hell was she going to do?
She clutched her purse close to her side, her coat bulked all around her when she sat, making her uncomfortable. Fear kept her immobilized, regret swamping her. Why hadn’t she told Mason she was leaving? She should’ve brought him with her. He would’ve taken care of everything.
Too late for regrets now.
“You got a lot of money, Miss Blake?” Rich leered at her, the look in his eyes wild, crazy. “Because I need a lot of money. We both need a lot of money.”
He nodded toward Suzanne who wouldn’t even look her way.
Dread trickled icy cold down Blake’s spine, accompanied by a healthy dose of disappointment. Her so-called friend had used her, brought her here to talk with her slimy husband so the both of them could…what? Hold her ransom and get some money out of it? Demand she write them a big, fat check?
She had some money that she had easy access to, but the bulk of her trust was tied up in legalities. Withdrawing a large sum of cash would take days, maybe even weeks, and would involve a couple of lawyers and lots of signatures.
“I’m not a bank,” she said coolly, hoping that keeping her wits about her would get her out of this. “You just can’t come to me and expect a large withdrawal.”
“You’re gonna be our bank today,” the man said with certain finality. “And we’re definitely in line for one of those large withdrawals. After what my wife did to me, well, I need to look for a new fortune. And once she told me about you, I knew you were it. The opportunity I’ve been searching for.”
“Rich...” Suzanne started but he wouldn’t hear it.
“Shut up!” The force of his yell made both women flinch. “We already discussed this! You owe me, Amber. After you double-crossed me, I deserve this. I deserve every last dime I can squeeze out of this girl.”
“She has nothing to do with this or with us. Let her go. You’re angry at me, no one else but me,” Suzanne pleaded.
“You’re damn right I’m angry at you. I’ll deal with you later, you can count on it. But right now, I need some quick cash to get the hell out of here. And don’t forget, I’m taking you with me.” Rich grinned, then chugged almost half of his beer.
“I don’t have access to a large amount of money,” Blake began. “I can get you a few hundred dollars, maybe even a thousand but that’s it.”
“Bullshit! I know you’re worth more than that. And I want more.” He shook his head and pitched the beer can so that it slammed against the wall. The remaining beer splashed out, filling the room with its overwhelming scent. “I want a lot more.”
Blake shot a glance in Suzanne’s direction and the look in her friend’s eyes was one of apology. Shaking her head, she looked away, didn’t want to see it.
Didn’t really want to believe it.
“I can give you a thousand dollars.” Blake couldn’t even believe she was making this offer. “Take it or leave it.”
Rich bent down, shoved his face directly in Blake’s. She recoiled, trying to get away but he followed, crowding her, his beer-tinged breath blowing in her face, his eyes even wilder close up. She pushed her back as far as it could go into the couch cushions, tried to control the trembling that wanted to take over her body but it was no use.
“I’m leaving it,” he whispered, his gaze sweeping down her body and giving her the creeps, even though she was covered in multiple layers. It was as if his eyes could burn right through her clothes. “If I have to hold your pretty little ass hostage and demand a ransom from daddy himself, hell from the goddamn president, from the goddamn FBI, whatever. I’m getting more. You’re worth a lot to me, sweetheart. The missus and I have been doing the proper research. A kidnapping right before the election wi
ll send everyone scrambling to give us what we want.”
Hold her hostage? Demand a ransom? This was far more serious than she first thought. What might happen if they took her hostage? Would her parents answer his demands? Would this man take the money and hurt her regardless?
“Now what’ll it be? Give me an answer. You want to take this the easy way or the hard way?” Rich stood, glaring down at her with the most hateful expression she’d ever seen. He didn’t even know her, yet he looked at her as if he despised the very air she breathed.
“The easy way,” she said, lifting her chin. She would not let this man intimidate her. He might have the upper hand, but she refused to let him see how much he unnerved her.
She’d get out of this. She had to. Maybe Mason had woken up. Maybe he was already looking for her. He could be on his way over here right now.
God. She could only hope.
Chapter Fourteen
Mason climbed out of bed, surprised he’d slept in so late, especially considering everything he needed to do this morning. Noticing it was nearly eleven, he automatically reached for Blake, disappointed when he found her side of the bed empty. The sheets long gone cold, though her scent still lingered. It surprised him she hadn’t rustled him from sleep to make her breakfast, since it had become their daily ritual.
Checking his phone, he saw that Byron had called—twice. He listened to his voicemails, heard the discouragement in his boss’ voice over the fact they were searching but so far, no details could be found on a Suzanne Johnson.
They had the world’s best databanks at their fingertips and they couldn’t find jack shit about a certain woman. It made absolutely no sense.
Frustrated, he headed toward the bathroom. Where was Blake? In her studio? He hoped so. He’d give Byron a call, go over what they’d each discovered—which was not much of anything—and then he’d start preparing a late breakfast. Maybe the smells from his cooking could entice her into the kitchen. He wanted to keep her close today, especially after everything they shared last night.
Under His Protection Page 15
