“Maybe we could go to the soup kitchen? I’m sure Florence, that’s the manager, will be bowled over by the amount raised,” she says suddenly.
Excitedly.
Enthusiastic.
I feel my stomach drop.
Having Jules anywhere near the soup kitchen, or her neighborhood for that matter is the last thing I want right now. But it’s she wants. And I can see her eyes light up at the idea.
“I’d much rather go home and get changed anyway. Have my own clothes,” she adds, only fueling my alarm which she picks up on straight away.
“Is that alright?” she asks me, looking at me sideways as I stifle a groan.
“Of course,” I tell her. “Anything you want. I just thought… what about clothes to even get you there?” I venture, looking over her with a raised brow but she only smiles, hugging herself a little.
“I like your shirt. I can dash from a car into my building in it, can’t I? You can protect me,” she adds proudly, and I feel a strange hollowness where I should be pleased.
They’re not knocking down her neighborhood this week Mason, ease up, she can grab some stuff from her apartment.
I wonder what the hell is wrong with me. I’m Mason Thorne but when it comes to Jules McPherson I only want to make her happy.
“Sure,” I hear myself saying. Trying to mean it. But there’s a bad feeling inside me. This whole business with that real estate deal…
Something’s rotten, but I tell myself it isn’t me or Jules and decide I have to leave it for now.
To try and enjoy her company for the day without thinking about it.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Jules
Feeling unsexy, stuffed to the brim with food, and hesitant by Mason’s reaction to me wanting to go home, even to just get some clothes I try and put it to the back of my mind.
He’s a busy guy and most likely has a million things to think about.
I’m actually surprised he wants me to stick around at all. We didn’t go all the way last night, and I thought that’s what all guys wanted?
But I also know that Mason Thorne isn’t all guys.
He’s one of a kind.
He’s still eager to please me though, even though I can tell he’d rather not go to my apartment.
I almost want to feel ashamed, but if he really wants to get to know me, seeing where I live is about as good an introduction as you can get.
Next to having his face in my pussy for an hour how confronting can my apartment be after that?
“C’ mere,” he says, suddenly smiling, his mood lifting as his eyes widen with suggestion. His gestures to his lap for me to come sit on.
I scoot over to him, and perch myself on his knee, squealing a little when he pulls me extra close, sliding me right onto his lap and over his member, which I feel getting hotter and fatter by the second through his boxers I’m wearing.
“I’m gonna take a shower,” he whispers in my ear, nibbling it gently and then kissing behind it all the way down to my neck.
I make a soft sound of agreement like I think it’s a good idea.
“And I want you to join me,” he says firmly, a hand sliding up the inside of my thigh, prying my legs open enough for his hand to find what it’s searching for.
“Maybe you want a little more of what you had last night?” he suggests, taking the pressure off me thinking I have to go all the way right now, but it hardly seems fair to have everything in my favor.
“I just want to eat you up, Jules. I really do,” he says reassuringly as if reading my mind, I feel my hands straying to his hard on, which pulses in both my hands.
My eyes widen, as I wonder how the heck he will fit inside me anyway. Mason moans loudly, letting his head tilt back as I start to work both my hands around the hot, swollen tip and then pump up and down.
“Do you like that?” I ask him, feeling like I’ve turned the tables pretty quick without even meaning to.
“Mmmm… fuck yes…” he groans, letting me work his rod until thick beads of clear fluid run from his tip and he starts to swear under his breath.
My heart is pounding in my ears, thumping in my chest as my hands start to shake. And not just because Mason’s dick starts to twitch uncontrollably.
He grips me suddenly, and in seconds my button half is naked and I’m straddling his lap, my drenched pussy hovering just inches from his thick cock.
I feel my whole body shudder with excitement as he tells me everything he wants, “I want to thrust myself inside here… and nowhere else. I want to watch you come for me.”
He cups my swollen mound and I instantly start to squirm on his thick palm, which he takes up to his mouth and licks before he kisses me again.
Tasting myself on his lips brings out the animal in us both again, and it’s not long before he has me spread eagle on the counter, moving his seat so he can pleasure me while he sits down, using both his strong hands on my hips and ass to hold me in place.
My control, or tolerance, whatever you want to call it, to his touch is gone.
In minutes, I hear myself begging him to let me come as he starts to flick my clit with his tongue and then stop before starting all over again.
I let you a low groan as he pushes me over the edge, putting his whole mouth over me again, his stubble scratching my sensitive skin, causing me to grip his head between my legs with my thighs as I once again, experience an earth shattering climax, Mason Thorne style.
I’m almost convulsing by the time he’s done and taking me in his arms again, he carries me back to his bed and lays me down.
I want him to claim me. I really do, but after what he did to my body, all I want to do is lie down and sleep again.
Half-conscious after my orgasm, I still feel rippling through me, I watch him as he strokes my hair back and kisses my forehead before I doze off to the sound of him taking his shower.
Without me, but I still feel like he’s right here with me. The warmth between my legs is still radiating through my whole body and I smell his cologne on everything.
I’m not sure if I actually fall asleep but the next thing I know he’s sitting beside me again on the edge of his bed fully dressed and clean shaven.
The freshly minted version of Mason Thorne. New suit, different watch, and everything just perfect. Not even a hair out of place.
“I…” I try to say something, but he just smiles, pressing his finger to my lips and kissing me again.
“You take your time. Do whatever you want, however you want,” he says gently.
I sit up suddenly, wide awake now. I throw my arms around him and give him the biggest, hardest hug I can.
“I don’t know what happened to me,” I confess. “It’s like every time you do that I just…”
He holds me just as tight, telling me it’s alright. I know he understands about me taking it slow, but I’m worried now just how long I’m gonna keep him waiting.
I don’t want him to lose interest.
“We’ve got more than today, Jules. We don’t have to do everything in one morning,” he says in a husky tone.
I melt into him, wondering what I did to deserve such a man.
“When you feel like it, we can go get you some clothes, anything you want, no hurry though. I didn’t mean to weird you out before, I’ve just got somethings on my mind,” he tells me, making me feel a lot better about his reaction when I suggested I go get my own clothes.
“Do you want me to stay?” I hear myself asking, hoping I can cope if he says he thinks it best I go home after all.
But he only holds me tighter, gasping at the thought of me suggesting anything but staying.
“Of course I want you to stay. I want you, Jules. And I’m gonna keep telling you that until it sinks in, okay,” he says sternly, holding my face in his hands once he relaxes his grip on me.
“Even if I wanna wear track pants and a sweater?” I ask, grimacing as I look over his perfect suit and tie arrangement.
He’s
a sharp dresser, no bones about it, and I can’t help wondering if he owns a pair of jeans and a t-shirt.
He smiles. “Let’s go get your clothes. Whatever makes you feel better. And I’ll see if I can’t think of something more casual myself.”
He helps me out of his shirt and into the shower, promising to leave me alone only after he’s watched me until I get so self-conscious I shoo him away.
“I’ll be waiting right outside,” he says, and I can practically hear him pacing outside the bathroom until I’m done.
With a fresh robe that actually fits me, he bundles me up in it, and I can tell he wants to carry me but I insist on walking with him to the row of elevators I saw earlier.
“I used to keep cars up here, believe it or not,” he says, shaking his head to himself. “Until I figured out it’s just as easy to park them downstairs and get to them.”
In seconds, we’re in a garage full of brand new, luxury cars, with Mason opening the door for me to the one closest to us.
A big, black town car with dark windows and leather seats. That new car smell hits my senses as I get in, closely followed by Mason’s cologne.
I can tell straight away this is his day to day car.
“Nicholas usually drives me,” he says absently, starting it up.
“My personal assistant, he’s on vacation,” he informs me, easing my mind a little.
A male personal assistant?
It’s better than him having a female one.
“Nicholas has been with me from the start. He’s more like an uncle, a father figure really. Do you have any family?” he asks me.
I shake my head silently, keeping my eyes on Mason the whole time as he pulls out of the garage and navigates city traffic like everything else he touches.
With complete confidence and mastery.
Thinking about my own lack of family and friends I sigh, not even thinking to tell him which way to go until I realize he’s almost at my place.
“How did you…?” I start to ask, but he only shrugs, and even though I don’t want to, I remember the map of my city block in red on his computer.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Mason
I mean every word when I tell her I can wait, that there’s no rush for me to claim her properly. But I have to have a cold shower, and look up at the ceiling, quickly washing and avoiding the aching hard on I still have from pleasuring her again.
Like a mantra, I tell myself that today is all about Jules, what she wants.
I need to earn her. She has to want me as much as I want and need her.
Come to think of it, every day is going to be about Jules. If she’ll let me.
I know she will. She’s just shy and probably still in a little bit of shock from that damned auction business last night.
By the time she’s ready to go, I reluctantly bundle her in a robe and head for her apartment so she can pick up whatever she needs to feel more like herself.
As much as I’d like to see her in nothing but a robe all day, with nothing underneath I get it that she wants some of her own stuff to feel comfortable.
It also means she’s coming back home with me.
Doesn’t it?
Before I even realize, we’re a few blocks from the soup kitchen, and I know her building from memorizing her address on her employee file.
She seems taken aback that I know the way, but a sly smile plays on her lips.
Like she knows I’ve done my research on her.
Which I have.
Once I see it from the outside… once I actually set foot in the building…
My mind’s made up.
Jules is coming home with me, no matter what. I won’t have my girl staying in a place like this a minute longer than she has to, just long enough to get her clothes.
“Elevators are broken,” she chimes, and we climb the five flights to her floor, which is admittedly, not as terrible looking as the others we pass.
Even watching her climb the stairs, in my robe, watching her fine ass sway as she takes two, sometimes three steps at once isn’t enough to make me like this.
Not one bit.
Once at her door, she registers my annoyance. “It’s not Thorne tower, or whatever you call that place, but it’s home,” she says, sounding a little hurt by my judgment, which I can’t disguise.
I follow her inside, and am surprised at how clean, neat, and tidy the place is.
I know home is what you make it, but really? If you have to build a house of sticks next to a swamp, it’s always gonna have that vibe about it.
“Love me, love my house,” she chimes nervousness as she flits about, picking up stray items and taking off into what I guess is her bedroom.
The whole place is the size of my bathroom, maybe smaller. But with Jules in it, her knick-knacks, and her pleasing scent, I can’t help but feel like I can handle staying for a little while.
I poke around a little, finding an old style answering machine with a flashing light showing she has some messages.
She re-appears a moment later in sweat pants and a baggy sweater. Her hair brushed and tied back, making her look even younger.
Fresher.
Making me feel old by comparison until I feel my dick twitching inside my suit pants, which she notices, blushing.
“They still make these?” I ask, motioning to the answering machine.
“Oh, that old thing, it came with the apartment, phone, and utilities are included. It’s about the only thing that does work though...” she says, trailing off as she notices the messages.
“I never get any calls through,” she adds, and leaning past me, she presses a button and I hear the scratchy but familiar voice of an older woman.
“Jules? Uh… I hope you don’t mind. I got your number from your building super, we hadn’t seen you at the kitchen in a while, I hope you’re okay. I suppose you’ve heard, we’re being bought out by that Thorne Company. Anyway, the man himself was here today. Only a few weeks left, drop in, or at least call back so I know you’re okay. It’s Florence.”
I can feel my pulse thundering in the silence. My mouth goes dry and my palms start to sweat.
I try to swallow, but I’m worried it’ll be too loud in the silence.
It’s deafening.
Jules stands frozen, facing away from me. She doesn’t bother to turn around when she says it either.
“I think you’d better go, Mason.”
I don’t budge.
The ink isn’t dry, or maybe hasn’t even been applied to the deal I’ve set up to counter my own company’s purchase of this whole neighborhood just yet. But it’s still as good as mine.
Jules is mine.
I won’t have Jules or anyone else telling me to leave until she knows the truth either.
A truth I’ve been trying to keep from her, I admit. But only so it didn’t hurt her feelings.
If I hadn’t gone to that damned soup kitchen I never would have found out, but because I did, there’s all this now.
She turns her head, her eyes red with tears.
“I said you’d better go, Mr. Thorne,” she says coldly, and I feel a pain in my chest that cuts to my very soul.
“I won’t,” I tell her calmly. “Not until you hear me out. Not until I explain-”
“There’s nothing to explain,” she continues, cutting me off. Her voice like ice as she collects herself, motioning towards the door.
“I don’t know what kind of sick game you’re playing, but just forget it. Until yesterday, I thought I had a job and a place to live. I had a shitty boss, but who doesn’t.”
I stare at my shoes, breathing in slowly, trying to count back from ten so I don’t overreact.
“Then you… You what? You buy up a charity, then spend millions at a phony auction you practically own anyway? Is that how rich people shift their money? Is it to avoid taxes, or is it just that millions of dollars are not enough you have to own people as well?” she asks bitterly, making me grimace.<
br />
I feel my face bunching up, my chest hurts and I can’t breathe anymore.
What the fuck happened? We were just coming back here to get her some clothes, so she felt was more comfortable. I was gonna spend the rest of the day-
A lot of what she’s saying doesn’t make sense but at the same time…
I can’t blame her for feeling this way.
It’s a bad look and it’s got my name on all over it, even if I am trying to set it right.
Thorne. The name synonymous with takeovers, with getting what he wants… with greed.
I can see it in her eyes now, the same look from all those people at the soup kitchen.
All asking me the same thing: How much is enough, buddy?
Her eyes widen, and her lip trembles. The tears she’s holding back are returning.
“Please,” she stammers, pointing to the door.
I don’t want to upset her any more than I already have, but I’m not leaving.
I go to the door, open it, and stand in the doorway. She turns away from me, but I have to tell her everything.
Everything I know anyway.
As it stands.
“You’re right about Thorne Industries buying up the neighborhood…But I only found out yesterday. It’s why I was so eager to win you at the auction. The soup kitchen is smack dab in the middle of the area marked for purchase.”
She keeps her back to me, her body shaking with tears.
“But Jules. I wanted you before I knew any of that. And when I found out what they’d planned, I made my own plans. To either buy out the company’s plan personally or to fire everyone responsible and take it over myself. I’ve even called a meeting for tomorrow to deal with the situation personally.”
I feel some life returning to me when she turns around.
“You didn’t even know?” she asks me, and I shrug. Shaking my head bitterly.
“No, I didn’t. I didn’t even know the company with my name on it was planning to make thousands of homeless and near-homeless people even more miserable. So I’ve taken steps to remedy that.”
She standing still. Quiet, except for a little sniffle.
“I’m buying them out. Whoever they pitched the investment to. And that auction money is going to be matched, dollar for dollar, like I promised, to fix the neighborhood, to build a bigger and better kitchen and a whole lot more.”
Bidding For Her Curves: An Instalove Possessive Age Gap Romance (A Man Who Knows What He Wants Book 208) Page 8
