by Velvet
Mason held her close and stroked the back of her hair. “Don’t cry. Everything’s going to be okay.” He suddenly felt bad for lying, but not bad enough to tell her the truth. He knew that if he did, she’d be out of there faster than a hummingbird in motion. Instead, he rocked her back and forth.
Terra held on to him like he was her savior. She felt safe in his arms, like nothing could hurt her as long as his strong arms were wrapped around her.
Mason felt her trembling and held her tighter. They stood like that for what seemed like hours, but it had only been a couple of minutes. Mason leaned down and kissed the top of her head. He wanted so badly to protect her from everything bad, even though he had manipulated the situation to his advantage. When she didn’t shy away from that benign kiss, he kissed her forehead, and when she still didn’t shy away, he leaned down closer and gently kissed her lips.
Terra didn’t want to respond to him, but the chemistry between them was too powerful, and she couldn’t resist, so she gave in and kissed him back.
Without taking his lips from hers, he slowly guided her toward the king-sized bed and sat her down on the comforter, all the while kissing her passionately. He stopped momentarily to remove her shoes, stockings, and leather skirt, and then resumed kissing.
She untied her halter top, and her titties sprang loose. She lay back naked on the bed and watched and waited for him to take off his clothes. His body was sheer perfection. His pectorals were chiseled, and his abdominals were rippled like an old-fashioned wash-board; but the best body part of all was his thick, ten-inch dick, which was erect and as hard as a piston. Terra felt her pussy getting wetter and wetter in anticipation of receiving his long rod.
Mason eased in between her legs and kissed her perky nipples. He then fingered the folded petals of her vagina, found her clit, and began rubbing it with his thumb and index finger.
“Oh…Baby…yes!” she moaned in between gasps for air.
Hearing her moan in ecstasy was making him hornier, and he couldn’t wait any longer, so he eased the head of his penis inside her slippery canal and began slowly pumping in and out. He caressed her face and said, “Look at me.”
Terra looked into his eyes and felt a deeper connection with him. She felt like she was falling in love. She tried to fight the feeling by averting her eyes, but the pull was too strong and kept drawing her eyes back to his, and she knew at that very moment that they were not just fucking; they were making love. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him in closer, and slowly moved her hips to match his gentle thrusts. No man had ever made love to her like this—not even Professor Langston—so she closed her eyes and surrendered to the feeling. They made love for hours, until they were both exhausted and fell off to sleep.
Mason began to stir as the bright sun peeked into the window. He was holding on to something soft and cuddly, but was afraid to open his eyes. He couldn’t bear the thought of waking up to another pillow. He wanted so badly to be holding Terra, but he knew there was a possibility that she had skipped out like before, leaving him caressing an inanimate object. To lessen the shock of reality, he slowly opened one eye and looked to see what he was holding. There in his arms was Terra, sound asleep. Mason smiled from ear to ear, and watched her dream. He held her a little tighter, because this time there was no way he was letting her get away.
19
TERRA WAS sleeping so soundly that she dreamed she was in her own comfortable bed with the Egyptian cotton sheets and fluffy down comforter. She rolled over and opened her eyes to look at the clock on her nightstand, but the clock didn’t look familiar; neither did the nightstand. Her eyes slowly scanned the room, and the instant she realized that she wasn’t at home, snippets of the previous night flashed through her mind like a movie trailer playing only the best scenes. Terra remembered her and Mason making love and the memory made her tingle all over. She looked to her left and saw what appeared to be a body lying underneath the covers. She flipped back the comforter thinking that he was cuddled up sleeping, but it was only a heap of pillows. She glanced around the room, but didn’t see him anywhere; the only thing she saw were clothes strewn across the floor and on the furniture. Her shoes, stockings, and skirt were at the foot of the bed; his jeans were on the side of the bed; his shirt was tossed across the arm of a chair and his shoes were kicked underneath a desk. She surveyed the aftermath, and their clothes told the story of a lustful seduction. She grabbed her halter top that was lying on top of the nightstand and tried to cover herself with it as she made her way to the bathroom.
“Good morning, Sweetheart,” Mason said, coming out of the bathroom wearing his boxers. He pulled her to him, engulfing her in a bear hug. “How’d you sleep?”
Standing there in the buff, trying to cover her breasts with the small top, she felt slightly embarrassed. “Like I was at home in my own bed,” she said.
“Yeah, I could see that you were comfortable, because when I got up to take a shower, you were snoring lightly,” he said, kissing the top of her head.
“Really? I don’t normally snore.” She blushed.
“It must have been my good loving that knocked you out cold,” he teased.
“I guess I should call you Sominex,” she teased back, getting over her awkwardness and looking up at him. He was freshly shaved, and not one hair on his goatee was out of place. Her appearance on the other hand was beyond disheveled. “Let me jump in the shower and freshen up,” she said, easing out of his embrace and running her hand through her unruly hair trying to smooth it down.
Forty minutes later, Terra reemerged with a white towel wrapped around her hair, and wearing a fuzzy, hotel-monogrammed, terry-cloth robe. She had soaked her body in the Jacuzzi tub before washing her hair in the shower. She felt renewed and ready to start her day. The only thing missing was her morning latte.
“Hey, Beautiful, I didn’t think you were ever coming out of there. Are you hungry?”
“As a matter of fact, I’m starving,” she said, with her stomach suddenly growling. Normally she didn’t eat breakfast, but last night with their acrobatic lovemaking, she had woken up with an appetite.
He was sitting at a small, white linen–covered dining table near the window. “Come here.”
Terra walked over and saw several plates covered with silver warming domes. She sat down, looked at the exquisitely set table with china plates and crystal glassware, and said, “What have we here?”
“I didn’t know what you liked, so I ordered a variety of stuff.” He took the lid off the first plate and said, “We have mixed berries, nuts, yogurt, and fresh-squeezed orange juice for a healthy start to the day.” He removed the dome off of another plate. “And for a semihealthy start, there are bagels, lox, and chive cream cheese.” He uncovered the next to last dish. “Now for the pièce de résistance”—he waved his hand over the meal for a dramatic effect—“pancakes with maple syrup, scrambled eggs, and country smoked bacon. This may not be the healthiest choice, but it sure is the tastiest. So”—he gave her a devilish grin—“what’s it going to be, Ms. Benson?”
“Hmm.” She looked at each delicious meal. “I’m thinking about this one,” she said, pointing to the fattening pancakes and bacon.
“A woman after my own heart, but I would’ve pegged you for a yogurt and fruit type person.”
“On those rare occasions when I do eat breakfast, it is usually fruit and yogurt, but it’s not every day that I get to indulge in my favorite breakfast of all time,” she said, taking a stack of the fluffy cakes. “I wish I had a latte. Then my morning would be complete,” she said, pouring syrup over the short stack.
He took the dome off of the last dish. “Your wish is my command.”
Terra looked, and in the middle of the plate was a Borders latte. “Oh, wow!” she exclaimed. “How did you know I’m crazy about the latte at Borders, and when did you go out and get it?”
“You were drinking a latte the day we met, so I called a messenger service and had one d
elivered especially for you.”
“Oh, Mason, that’s so sweet, but how’d you know I was drinking a latte, and not a plain cup of coffee?” she asked, curious to know.
“I noticed everything about you that day, from the way the sun highlighted your hair to your perfect posture. I even noticed your Hermès tote,” he said, as if it were yesterday. “Besides, I could smell the Chai flavorings.”
Terra was flabbergasted. His attention to detail was amazing. Most men didn’t know the difference between Hermès or H&M, nor could they distinguish Chai from cinnamon. She was loving this man more and more by the second. First, he saved her from the paparazzi, and then made exquisite love to her all night. Now he was making love to her taste buds. She felt like a pampered princess as she sat back and enjoyed her royal breakfast.
“If you’re not busy today, I thought we’d walk over to SoHo and check out a few galleries, and then have a late lunch,” he said hopefully.
Terra couldn’t remember the last time she had bopped in and out of the art galleries in SoHo, and loved the idea of discovering new artists and spending the afternoon with her new love. “I would like that very much.”
“Great. How about we leave in about fifteen minutes?” he said, polishing off the last piece of bacon.
“Sounds good,” she said, standing up to get dressed, but then she remembered the black leather miniskirt, matching halter, and red, four-inch sandals that she had worn last night. The outfit was perfect for partying, but not for gallery hopping. “I’m going to need more than fifteen minutes.”
“Why? What’s wrong?” he asked, hoping she hadn’t changed her mind.
“My outfit,” she said, picking the black leather skirt up off the floor.
“What’s the matter with it?” he asked, seeing nothing wrong.
“Nothing if I want to look like a rocker in the middle of the day, which is not my style.” She walked over to her purse, which was sitting on the sofa, reached in and took out her cell phone. “I’m going to call my personal shopper at Bergdorf and have her pick out something more appropriate,” she told him, and hit the speed dial to the store. “Terra Benson calling for Anne Thomas,” she said, changing her tone to a more businesslike one. “Hi, Anne. Yes, I’m fine, thank you. Anne, I need for you to pull together a pair of Seven jeans with the antique denim finish, a baby-doll top, one of those cute short blazers, a pair of comfortable Tod’s for walking, and a pair of oversized Gucci shades. And I’ll need all of that messengered over to Hotel Gansevoort as soon as humanly possible.” She covered the mouthpiece with her hand, and asked Mason their room number. Once he gave her that information, she returned to the call. “Oh, and I’ll also need a Tod’s tote to match the shoes. Great! Thanks, Anne,” she said, and flipped her phone shut.
Mason was speechless. It was easy to forget that she was an heiress, because she was so down-to-earth with him, but hearing her spend what must have been close to three thousand dollars, in less than sixty seconds and all without even giving a credit card number or her sizes, brought home the reality that she was mega-rich.
An hour and a half later the bellhop was knocking on the door with lavender shopping bags from Bergdorf Goodman. Mason tipped him, and handed over the merchandise to Terra, who went into the bathroom and made a quick change from the bathrobe into street clothes.
Mason whistled the second she stepped out of the bathroom. She was beautiful in the robe, but dressed in the trendy outfit with her hair loose in soft curls, she looked like a fashion model. “Not bad.” He whistled again. “You’re going to have to give that personal shopper a personal thank you from me.”
Terra blushed, and stuffed her clothes from the night before in the tote, put on her shades, and headed toward the door, but she hesitated, suddenly remembering the reason why she had spent the night in the first place. “You don’t think the paparazzi are still lurking outside do you?”
Mason knew that the photographers were long gone, since they had packed up their cameras last night (unbeknown to Terra). “Don’t worry, I’m more than sure that they’re somewhere else, stalking another victim. Come on, Sweetheart, I’ll protect you,” he said, putting his arm around her shoulders.
As they left the hotel arm in arm, they were totally unaware that someone was lurking in the shadows, snapping pictures of their every move.
20
IT HAD been forty-eight hours, but Mason was still flying high from his marathon date with Terra. After leaving the hotel, they strolled arm and arm over to SoHo, and moseyed in and out of some of the most expensive galleries in Manhattan. Nothing really caught their eye, until they walked over to West Broadway, where some of the best painters and sculptors in the city sold their work on the sidewalk. As they admired the talent of the street artists, Terra fell in love with a five-foot still life painting of a half empty bottle of imported vodka and two martini glasses garnished with plumb green olives, sitting atop a long wooden bar. She said that the painting reminded her of the night at Pravda where they laughed and drank themselves silly. Watching how much she admired the piece, Mason immediately bought it for her so that she could always remember their first night together. So they wouldn’t have to lug the huge canvas around town, the artist agreed to have the painting delivered to her apartment the following day.
During lunch, they shared a bottle of pinot grigio and a large bowl of farfalle with smoked salmon and asparagus at Barolo’s outdoor garden. Mason felt as if they were on holiday in Tuscany, instead of in New York. Though neither broached the subject of dating exclusively, their actions spoke volumes. The way she leaned her head on his shoulder as they walked down the street, and the way he fed her forks full of pasta, it was like they were already in a committed relationship. They were so comfortable together it was as if they’d known each other for years. After a leisurely lunch, they parted ways, with Terra thanking him for a lovely afternoon, and Mason promising to call her the next day, and then they each got in separate taxis. Terra went home, and Mason went to the club.
THOUGH THAT WAS two days ago, Mason couldn’t get the thought of her out of his mind. Even the scantily clad members at the club couldn’t distract him. Normally, he wouldn’t have been able to exert any self-control as he walked through the club in search of a pair of ripe titties to suck on and a wet pussy to fuck. But tonight, he was all business as he went from chamber to chamber trying to decide which room to convert into the Poet Sanctuary.
Mason walked past the window that looked into the Voyeurism Room and saw something that caught his eye and made him stop in his tracks. There, in the middle of the king-sized bed, was a woman lying on her back, buck naked, wearing a multicolored mask with long pink, yellow, teal, red, and tangerine plumes. Her nipples were being sucked by one server, which wasn’t strange at all, but what made Mason stop and stare was the dick between her legs that another server was sucking. From where he stood, he couldn’t see if she was a hermaphrodite or a transgender who hadn’t got the bottom half done yet. Mason had never seen a chick with a dick before—at least not in person—and watching her receive pleasure on both ends was fascinating. He stood there until the server made her climax and a stream of cum squirted out of her tiny penis. But that wasn’t the end of the show. After she came, she got on all fours and knelt down on her elbows so that her ass was high in the air, turned around and told the servers to fuck her. The one who had been sucking her tits watched and waited as the other server stuck his tool up her ass and went to work. He was humping so hard that sweat poured off of his body onto hers. After a few minutes, he pulled out, so that the other server could pull up to the bumper. Mason watched them tag team her, and then in a sudden turn of events, they each stroked their own dicks and came simultaneously.
Damn, now that’s some freaky shit, Mason thought, and once the show was over, he continued on his way.
Mason stood in the doorway of the Disco, which was pumping with pulsating bodies dancing the night away, and knew that was one room that wouldn’t
be replaced. He then continued down the corridor and peeked his head into the Naked Pool room, which was full of members playing Eight Ball in the buff. Naked pool was so popular that Mason knew this room was also here to stay. As he surveyed the Aphrodisiac Bistro and the Chocolate Chamber, which were both buzzing with members and servers, Mason realized that he couldn’t justifiably get rid of those theme rooms either. The only alternative to eliminating one of the existing rooms was to expand upstairs where his office was located. There were a couple of empty storage spaces that could be converted into the Poet Sanctuary.
As he turned around and walked back down the hallway, a member with an elaborate mask approached him.
“Hey there, where’s the fire?” she asked, rubbing her hand up and down his chest.
“What do you mean?” he said, taking a slight step away from her.
“You’re rushing off like there’s a four-alarm fire somewhere,” she said, taking a step closer.
Mason took one look at her mask with the multicolored feathers and realized that “she was the he” or was “he the she”? In any case, it was the same chick with the dick who had just gotten fucked by two servers. He immediately looked down at her crotch, thinking that he would see a bulge, but he didn’t. She wore a tight, hot pink thong, and was as smooth as a board. Must be holding her little dick in place. He couldn’t help but stare at her beautiful 38Ds. They were perfectly round with nipples at least three-quarters of an inch long that poked through the sheer blouse she wore.
“You wanna suck ’em?” she asked, noticing him looking.
“No,” he quickly said, returning his gaze to her masked face.
She unbuttoned her blouse and began tweaking her nipples until they grew harder. She then put her hands underneath each titty and started bouncing them up and down. “They look good enough to eat, don’t they?”
