Page 16 of A Sinful Gift

“I do, but I’m not sure I’ll ever have them,” he said, watching her face closely to see her reaction.

“Why not?” She finally met his eyes.

Heat climbed his cheeks, not because he was embarrassed, but because he wasn’t used to talking about his deepest desires this openly. “Because any woman I would want that life with? I would want to share her with Blake. And that’s a complicated request for us to make of a woman.”

“Does Blake want children?” she asked, another blush betraying her.

“Yes.” He gave a breathy chuckle. “He feels the same about it as I do. We are a package deal. We want to share one woman between us.”

“That is complicated,” Hazel agreed. “But surely someone out there would agree to that, if they loved you both.”

Mason didn’t say anything more as she picked up a second piece of sandpaper and handed it to him. They sanded the cradle together for several long minutes in silence.

“So, Mr. Boy Scout, are you an expert on knots?” Hazel asked.

“Knots?” He brushed away dust from the spindles and set his sandpaper down.

“You know... to tie things up?” She gave him a meaningful look.

“Tie things up or tieyouup?” Mason asked with a grin as he caught on to her game.

“I’ll give you one guess which,” she said, and Mason didn’t hesitate.

He snatched her up in his arms and threw her over his shoulder. He gripped the back of her legs with one arm and rested his other hand on her ass, giving it a light, possessive smack. She laughed and then shrieked as he carried her through the warehouse toward the sailboat. It was a small boat, and he’d turned it upside down to work on the hull, leaving the bottom of the vessel the perfect height to put a woman on top of. Hazel wriggled as he set her down on it, and he reached for a coil of nearby rope. It was a smooth rope of braided cotton, and as long as she didn’t tug on the knots too much, he guessed it wouldn’t hurt her wrists.

He wound the white rope around her wrists in a two-half hitch knot that could easily be undone with a tug on the right spot. Then he stretched her hands above her head and secured the other end of the rope to the opposite end of the boat, leaving her flat on her back on the newly waxed surface of the hull.

Hazel stared up at him as he leaned over her, grinning.

“My scoutmaster would be proud—that is one hell of a double hitch knot,” he said, nodding at her hands above her head. He pulled something out of his pocket, and her eyes widened and then narrowed at him.

This was going to be fun.

* * *

He had gagged her.

Mason had tied a strip of cloth around her head and put it between her lips. She could still easily scream, still make sounds, but just not talk clearly.

He leaned in close and toyed with the edge of the gag by her cheek. “If you’re wondering why I like this, it’s because I like hearing your muffled voice,” he whispered. “It reminds me of the fact that I caught you, little rabbit, and I’m going to fuck you right here.”

Oh God, heknew, they both knew, that she liked being chased and fucked. It was her deepest, darkest fantasy. Had Blake told him?

He stroked a fingertip down her chin to her throat and then along her collarbone.

“That’s a nice shirt, but Blake can afford to buy a new one.” He curled his fingers in the cloth and tore at it.

Buttons flew everywhere as Mason peeled the dress shirt open, baring her breasts to him. He stared at her a long moment, his eyes glowing with desire.

Hazel breathed hard as her own lust went into overdrive.

He bent his head and sucked one of her nipples into his mouth. Her body arched off the smooth hull, the pull at the flesh of her breast zinging straight to her pussy. She moaned around the gag and tried to breathe as his other hand slid under the elastic of her boxers to cup her mound. She strained against the ropes, her muscles pulling, her thighs parting to give him better access. His fingers stroked her labia and abruptly stopped and smacked the delicate flesh up near her clit. She squeaked as his head jerked free of her nipple, leaving it shiny and cold in the air of the workshop.

“Naughty girl.” His growl was low, but the light in his eyes promised she would like being called that as much as she liked being Blake’sgood girl.

She whimpered as his fingers stroked along her pussy again, rubbing through the wetness of the folds and teasing her. Her bare feet tried to find purchase on the floor, and she widened her legs and angled upward to wrap her legs around him, but he stepped back.

She grunted in frustration, and he chuckled. “Such a naughty girl.”

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