Page 29 of Savoring Addison

Something she was remotely capable of figuring out right now? Not even a little bit.

With a final regretful look at Zach’s closed door, she headed up to the third floor. She could only deal with one bizarre turn of events at a time, and Mason had to be her priority.

Mind spinning the whole way, she tried to figure out the best way forward. Searching the mansion for Mason definitely wouldn’t work. He made it abundantly clear his focus needed to be on his guests during the week.

Except apparently at 4:26 in the morning. Then he could install an absurdly fancy bird feeder to provide for the injured cardinal she wanted to befriend like some sort of kinky Disney princess.

So she could either wait and see what happened, or find another way to be proactive.

By the time she arrived at her room, she had made up her mind. She didn’t need to pour her heart out or prostate herself at his feet, begging for forgiveness, but she could still apologize.

Closing her bedroom door behind her, she leaned against it and fished her phone out of her pocket. She pulled up the text thread with Mason, if she could even call it that. A solitary message floated within the gray bubble at the top of the screen.

This is Mason St. John.

She stared blankly at her phone for almost a minute as she composed message after message in her head. Finally, she typed out, I’m sorry about Saturday. I’d like to talk when you have the time and hit the blue send arrow.

Before she could close the window, three dots appeared in their little speech bubble. They hovered there for several seconds, then disappeared.

Again, three dots, this time only for a moment.

And then nothing.

Well then. That was just fucking great.

Tossing her phone onto the bed, she stripped down and plodded into her en suite bathroom. Less than a minute later, she stood under the too-hot spray of the shower, eyes closed as water cascaded over her.

Images flashed through her mind. Mason stalking across the kitchen, cold fury radiating off every inch of him. The exact movement of his lips every time he said good girl. The look on his face as he lowered a collar toward her throat for the first time.

It wasn’t long before her mind turned to even dirtier things. The way the muscles in his butt moved when he walked. She wanted to wrap her legs around him and dig her heels into that tight ass as he drove into her.

And it was a goddamn tragedy she barely got to see his cock on Saturday. Even so, she could picture it perfectly, and she salivated at the thought. She imagined herself on her knees, Mason looming over her like a god as he pushed his cock down her throat.

Good lord, if she didn’t come soon, she would explode.

Stretching up on her toes, she grabbed the handheld showerhead, twisting the dial around until it emitted a narrow, intense stream. They might say this setting was for massages or something, but everyone knew that was bullshit. This setting was for the ladies.

Spreading her legs wide, she used her free hand to expose her clit, positioning the showerhead so the water made perfect contact. Fuck, it felt good. She moved the showerhead in the tiniest of circles as she remembered when Mason bent her over the countertop, ripping down her pants and panties to spank her with a wooden spoon.

The muscles in her lower abdomen started to cramp, so she lifted one foot up onto the low corner shelf she used when she shaved her legs. Leaning against the shower wall, she aimed the water stream at her clit and got back to her fantasy. Mason fucked her against the counter with bruising force, his hips sending a new burst of pain through her each time they slammed against her recently punished ass.

She wanted that again. She wanted it so badly she couldn’t even think straight anymore. Only her pleasure mattered in this moment.

The illusion shattered when someone banged their fist against her bedroom door. “Fuck!” she said, dropping the showerhead. It hit the wall with a loud bang, the water whipping around until gravity finally settled the showerhead into place.

The pounding came again, even louder this time. Lamenting the almost-orgasm, she turned off the water and grabbed a towel. Drying off only enough to avoid trailing water all along her bedroom floor, she wrapped the towel around her body.

“This better be fucking important,” she grumbled as she stomped toward the door. Like, the-building-is-on-fire-so-everybody-out important. Or else someone just made a new worst enemy.

Undoing the bolt, she threw open the door with a huff.

Mason froze on the other side, his fist raised to knock again.

CHAPTER 10

Mason

Sweet. Motherfucking. Jesus.

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