by Velvet
“Damn, Baby, you got a deep throat.”
“I told you I’m going to suck the cum right out of your big dick,” she said, coming up for air.
Mason flipped her over and got on top. “Not tonight. Tonight it’s all about you,” he said, kissing her full on the lips before she could respond. His only desire was to please her in ways she never dreamed about.
Terra spread her legs wide and wrapped them around his back. “I want to feel your dick inside of me right now. Fuck me,” she whispered in his ear.
“I’m not going to fuck you.” He looked deep into her eyes. “I’m going to make love to you.” Mason eased the head of his dick inside, and watched her face respond with pleasure. He slowly entered her and the tightness of her warm pussy turned him on even more than sucking her clit. He increased his pace until they were both riding the same wave. Their bodies melded together like two pieces of molten clay. Though Mason had fucked randomly at the club, this was the first time in a long time that he made love. He knew it was a cliché, but he loved Terra the first time he laid eyes on her. He reached underneath her and held her close with both arms as they came together.
“Wow, that was amazing!” She smiled, still in his arms.
Mason kissed her forehead. “I know. I feel like a new man,” he confessed. He turned over to his side, and spooned her. Mason had finally found his anchor, and he wasn’t letting go.
He drifted off into a peaceful sleep, and when he woke up in the morning, he was still hugging her. She was comfortable in his arms, which pleased him to no end. He smiled and opened his eyes to see his soul mate, but she was gone, replaced by a down pillow. He threw the pillow across the bed, got up, and looked in the bathroom, but she wasn’t there. He walked into the living room, but no Terra. He peeked in the kitchen, hoping that she was fixing a morning-after breakfast, but the pots were cold and she was nowhere to be found.
“Damn!” He slammed his fists on the slate counter. She was gone without even a good-bye kiss or a note. He didn’t have her number and couldn’t call information because he didn’t even know her last name. “Damn!” he shouted again. In one night, he’d found and lost his precious anchor.
13
“MAN, I didn’t know you hung out with the rich and famous,” Trey said teasingly as soon as Mason picked up the telephone.
Mason had forsaken his morning run and was back underneath the covers. He was still brooding over Terra’s unexpected departure and was in no mood for kidding around. “What are you talking about?” he asked dryly.
“I’m talking about you hanging out with Ms. Benson, the hot tobacco heiress. Damn, Dawg, I didn’t know you had it like that,” Trey said, full of admiration. He’d read about her in People, as one of the richest bachelorettes under thirty. Not only was she mega-rich, she was beautiful as well.
“Man, have you been drinking early this morning?” Mason asked, totally clueless as to what Trey was talking about.
“No, I haven’t been drinking, but from the looks of this picture, it seems like you and Ms. Benson had tied one on and were feeling no pain.”
“What picture? What are you talking about?” Mason asked, getting irritated.
“I take it you haven’t read The Post yet?”
“No. I’m still in bed,” he said lazily.
“Well in that case, let me read you the caption from ‘Page Six’ ‘Ms. Benson’s Buffed Beau.’ And then it goes on to say—‘Terra Benson, the paparazzi-shy tobacco heiress, normally steers clear of the camera, but last night she was seen tumbling out of Pravda at two-thirty A.M. with a no-name stud.’”
Mason shot straight up in bed like a lightning rod. “You’ve got to be kidding? You mean I’m on ‘Page Six’ with an heiress?” He was stunned, and slightly pleased at the same time. Though he dated a variety of women, this was the first time his picture had appeared in the paper as someone’s “no-name stud.” Being featured on “Page Six” was an unofficial honor, unless it was bad press. But being affiliated with an heiress was indeed a high honor.
“No, I’m not kidding, and yes you’re on ‘Page Six’. And considering the fact that she’s rarely photographed, I wouldn’t be surprised if the photographer sells this picture to the tabloids.”
“Let’s hope not; being in The Post is one thing, but I’d hate to have my mug in those cheesy papers near the supermarket checkout lines. So her last name is Benson?” Mason said, thinking out loud.
“Man, you mean to tell me you didn’t know that you were hanging out with one of the most eligible heiresses in the world? How did you meet her anyway? From what I’ve read, she’s extremely private and hates to be photographed,” Trey said, trying to get the inside scoop.
“I literally bumped into her at Borders, and last night we were both coincidently at Pravda. I bought her and her friend a bottle service, and the next thing you know, she and I are drinking and talking like old friends, and—”
“And you got her drunk, took her home, and fucked her brains out,” Trey interrupted, infusing his own version of the story.
“Man, it wasn’t like that at all…well, it was like that, but”—Mason took a deep breath—“I think I’m in love with her,” he admitted rather sheepishly.
“You mean you’re in love with the punnay.” Trey had never known Mason to have a serious girlfriend, only random booty calls.
“Naw, Man, this girl is different. The first time I laid eyes on her, I knew she was something special,” Mason said with a smile in his voice.
“She’s something special, all right. A billion dollars’ worth of special. Do you realize what her family is worth? She comes from old money, and we both know that old money lasts for generations and generations, unlike new money, that’s usually squandered by the first generation.”
“Man, I don’t care about her money. When I met her last night, she told me that she was a struggling actress, and I’m good with that,” Mason said.
“She’s a struggling actress with a seven-or eight-figure trust fund, so I just bet you’re good with that!” Trey chuckled.
“I told you I don’t care about her family’s money. I would love her if she was waiting tables at a diner for minimum wage. I may not be worth a billion dollars, but I’m not hurting financially either. I’ve saved a nice little nest egg, enough to support a family when the time is right.”
Trey had never heard Mason speak so passionately about anyone before, and was beginning to believe him. “Since you’re so in love, when’s your next date with Ms. Benson?”
“Your guess is as good as mine,” he said, slumping back on the headboard.
“Now I’m confused. The way you were talking, I thought you’d be running down to Tiffany’s for a five-carat engagement ring.” He laughed.
“I’m glad you think my love life is a joke. If you must know, she left my apartment this morning before I woke up, without leaving her number.”
“Oh, no, she crept out on you? I thought only men snuck out on the sly before the light of day, without saying good-bye or leaving a note. You have to admit the girl’s got game,” Trey said, sounding impressed.
“Believe it or not, for once in my life, I don’t want to play any games. I’m ready for a relationship, and she’s ‘the one.’”
“‘The one’? Are you sure?” Trey asked, knowing that when a man used that phrase it meant a marriage proposal wasn’t too far behind.
“Yep, she’s ‘the one.’ Now all I have to do is find her and convince her to marry me and have my babies.” He chuckled, but was serious nonetheless. Thinking that Terra might be at Borders, Mason said abruptly, “Look, Man, I gotta go. Talk to you later.”
“Okay, see you in the papers,” Trey ribbed him once again before hanging up.
Mason showered and shaved quickly. He put on a fresh pair of jeans and a long-sleeved Juicy Couture T-shirt. Instead of his old beat-up running shoes, he wore a pair of black and tan Pumas. He wanted to look casually clean, just in case Terra was in Borders.
He was so excited that he nearly ran to the bookstore and into the café. He scanned the small room, but she wasn’t there. He ordered his usual, and sat at a corner table that faced the doorway. His eyes were peeled to the entrance as he watched people come and go, but no Terra.
TERRA SAT IN her bed with the trades spread across the damask duvet, but instead of reading the latest industry news, she was staring at the picture of herself and Mason on Page Six. In the photograph, they were both laughing (probably at one of his jokes), his arm was comfortably around her shoulders, and they appeared to be slightly inebriated. It surely didn’t look like they had met only hours before the picture was snapped. Terra had felt so comfortable with Mason that she let her guard down, and was unaware of her surroundings once they went outside. Normally she was cautious and wore oversized sunglasses to help conceal her face just in case there were photographers lurking about. But last night, all of her inhibitions were cast aside. It was a combination of the vodka and Mason’s easygoing personality that had her tipsy, and she totally forgot about shielding her identity from the paparazzi.
As she was reading the caption for the umpteenth time, the telephone rang. “Hello?” she asked skeptically, hoping it wasn’t her parents calling about her début on “Page Six.”
“I was wondering where you had disappeared to last night, but after seeing The Post this morning, I’m guessing you spent the night at his place,” Lexi said as soon as Terra picked up the phone.
“Whatever happened to ‘Good morning’?” Terra asked sarcastically. She wasn’t ready to talk about her wild night with Mason. She’d planned on letting that be her little secret, but now that their picture was splashed across the paper for the world to see, she had no choice but to tell Lexi the story.
“From the looks of this picture, I’d say you had a good night. So tell me everything, and don’t spare any of the juicy details. Do his lips taste as good as they look?” Lexi asked, getting right down to the nitty-gritty.
Terra sighed as if reliving the moment when his lips first touched hers. “Better. Girl, I hadn’t planned on sleeping with him, but we were laughing and drinking and the next thing you know—”
“You were riding his soul pole.” Lexi laughed.
“Trust me, that totally wasn’t the plan, but when I peeked at his package when we were sitting at the bar, I just couldn’t resist. I hadn’t had sex since David left for California over a year ago, and I was long overdue.”
“I thought you didn’t do one-night stands,” Lexi said, knowing how cautious Terra could be about protecting her identity.
“I normally don’t, but it’s not like he was a total stranger. I mean, I have seen him a few times at Borders,” she said, trying to redeem herself.
“So…was he any good?”
“Lexi, Lexi, Lexi.” Terra fanned the newspaper across her face. “Good isn’t even the word. He was awesome!”
“Awesome? That’s a strong adjective. I’m sure you’re exaggerating since you haven’t had sex in so long,” she said, discounting Terra’s claim. Lexi was slightly jealous. She had wanted to fuck Mason the second she saw him across the room, but he only had eyes for Terra. After he dismissed her, she silently cursed him, wishing that he had a small prick and no skills.
“I’m not exaggerating in the least. From the taxi ride to his apartment, we couldn’t keep our hands off of each other. He even went down on me in the back of the cab. I’ve never had sex in the backseat of a car before and the thought of the driver hearing us moan really turned me on.” Terra wedged a pillow between her legs, wishing it were Mason’s dick. Just talking about him was making her moist, and she wanted to go back to his apartment and finish where they had left off, but it wasn’t in the cards.
“Okay, I get the picture.” Lexi didn’t want to hear any more, because secretly she wished that Mason were eating her out in the back of a taxi instead of her friend. “What about Sage?” Lexi asked, reminding Terra about her plan of seduction.
“Oh, yeah.” Terra had momentarily forgotten about Sage and the movie studio. She was thinking about fucking Mason again, instead of focusing on her scheme to win Sage over. “I surely hope he hasn’t read The Post this morning, because from the looks of this picture Mason and I seem as if we’re headed straight for the bedroom,” Terra said, glancing at the photo one more time.
“What if he has? Then what are you going to do?”
“I’ll just say that you and I were out with a few friends and that picture was part of a group shot, edited down to look like I was on a date. Sage knows the business and how photographers manipulate pictures to their advantage,” Terra said. Now that she had a logical explanation, she felt better about being outed on Page Six.
“Okay, that takes care of the picture, but what are you going to do about Mason? Are you going to see him again?”
“No, that was a one-night affair, and I’ve got to stay focused,” Terra said, wedging the pillow deeper between her legs. Her mind was saying forget about him, but her body wanted more of his tongue, fingers, and most of all his big, beautiful dick. He had made love to her so good that she was craving him all over again, but he was one addiction that she couldn’t afford.
14
“ROY, THANKS for coming over straight from the airport,” Sage said, shaking his hand and inviting the architect into his office.
After their last conversation, when Roy informed Sage that the building couldn’t accommodate four full-sized studios, Sage was extremely curt and practically hung up in the man’s face. Once he calmed down, Sage realized that hiring another architectural firm wasn’t the answer—Roy Snyderman was the best—so he swallowed his attitude and called Roy in for a meeting.
“You’re welcome,” he said, shaking Sage’s hand in return. “I’ve figured out a solution to the problem,” Roy said, sitting at the mini conference table opposite Sage’s desk and unrolling a set of floor plans.
“That’s good to hear. Let’s see what you have,” Sage said, pulling up a chair.
“We were able to work around the two structural pillars without compromising the roof. So instead of two sets, we’re able to build three,” he said, pointing to the outline of the proposed sets.
Sage leaned in and looked at the drawings; though it wasn’t the original plan for the soundstage, he was pleased with the new drawings. He had the resources to scrap the plans and start from scratch, but he wanted to stay on schedule. Though his father was retired, Sage knew that his old man kept abreast of what was happening with the business, and he didn’t want to give his father any cause for concern. “Since this is a new layout, are we going to have to get these plans approved by the city?”
“If you approve of this layout, then I’ll call in a few favors and have them rushed through. Since we’re not adding onto the square footage of the building, it shouldn’t be a problem.”
“I definitely approve. Thanks so much for all of your help; I really appreciate it. I apologize for blowing up last time, but this studio is my baby, and I want it to be perfect,” Sage said sincerely. His mother had always taught him that you get more flies with honey than with vinegar, and she was right.
“I totally understand.” Roy began rerolling the drawings. “I’ll have the originals messengered down to City Hall. We shouldn’t be more than a week behind schedule, which isn’t bad at all,” he said, looking at Sage for his reaction.
“A week I can live with.” Sage smiled. “Do you have time for a drink? I feel like celebrating.”
“Sure, I know this great martini bar on Sixty-eighth between Lex and Park.”
“Great, let me call for my driver,” Sage said, reaching for the phone.
“Don’t bother. My car is already downstairs, and I’ll drop you off afterward,” Roy offered.
“Sounds good.” Sage put on his suit jacket that was hanging behind the door, straightened his tie, and they headed out of the office.
The R Lounge was located in the basement of a bro
wnstone building. With only a small bronze plaque with the name etched on it, the bar was easy to miss.
“How did you find this place? It’s so unassuming, I would have walked right past without noticing it existed.”
“I own the building and the bar. I purposely designed the space to be inconspicuous. I wanted a spot where I could feel comfortable being myself, and have great drinks in a relaxing environment,” Roy said, opening the door to the lounge.
From the look of the residential exterior, Sage expected the bar to look like a cozy living room with sofas and a fireplace, but the interior was sleek. A long chrome bar expanded the length of the room, and was illuminated from underneath with indigo lights. Instead of down-filled couches, black leather cubes served as additional seating, opposite the bar stools. The wall facing the bar was mirrored, giving the narrow space depth. Hypnotic groove music played in the background, as hip-looking patrons sipped martinis and chatted among one another. Roy waved to a few people as they made their way to the bar.
“Hey there, Roy, long time, no see,” the bartender said.
“I’ve been out of the country, but I’m back now and ready for one of your concoctions. What are you shaking up tonight?”
Stan was one of the best mixologists in the city and made daily drink specials from unique ingredients. “A Velvet Cane, made with 10 Cane Rum and Moët White Star poured over a raw sugar cube. You want to try one?”
“Make it two,” Sage said. As he waited for Stan to mix their drinks, he checked out the scene. Beautiful women of varying shapes and sizes sat together talking, while the men—who were equally as attractive—looked on from afar. As Sage was glancing around, he noticed a gorgeous redhead with a Rene Russo face and a killer Pamela Anderson body walk into the bar. She was short, but was packaged nicely. The tight, multicolored wrap dress she wore hugged every curve of her body, and the deep V-neckline showcased her double Ds.
