Page 36 of Mase
He steps toward me, then he snaps the photo of me and Travis at the park off the mirror.
“What are you doing?” I yelp, attempting to snag it from him, then he pockets it and raises an eyebrow at me. I glare at him, and he chuckles before turning away from me as if dismissing me.
He whistles low. “My father set you up good, huh?” He spins on his heels, scanning my bedroom. “You were daddy’s princess,” he snarks, ignoring me, and swoops his arm around the bedroom. There’s a jealous edge to his voice, and I tilt my head. Does he think we played happy families here? Is that what he thinks this was? “Had all the fucking things you ever wanted.” He clucks his tongue.
“Hardly,” I snort back.
His steely glare turns toward me. “Doesn’t look like it to me.” He motions toward my walk-in closet, where dozens of fancy designer dresses hang on a rail, one after the other. See-through shoe boxes are stacked along one side of the wall, exposing the designer heels, all of them in various colors and some with price tags still intact. Purses are draped over crystal hooks as if on display. The contents of this closet would be someone’s dream, but to me, it resembles a nightmare. These luxuries came with constraints to be the person he wanted me to be, down to the way I dressed—underwear and all.
I close my eyes at the memory of his father barking orders at the staff to dress me how he saw fit, hating the way it made me feel like an object, a possession, and ultimately, his transaction. He liked to dress me up and parade me around like aprized pony, and I hated every second of it. Still, I never had a choice. Not once. Not until recently, at least.
When I open my eyes, I recoil in the way Mase’s mood has soured, and it’s nothing short of bitter. This is the closed-down Mase, and the longer he stands in the room, the more the real him slips away.
I watch him closely as I deliver my next words. “I was his dress-up doll.” My throat is scratchy with admitting my truth, but it does little to penetrate the stone walls he’s constructed.
His jaw sharpens, then twitches before he pulls his gaze up to meet mine. “Yeah? How’d that work out for you?”
“He’s dead, and I’m here with you as my guardian. So, I’d say pretty well, wouldn’t you?”
Stunned is the only way to describe his expression, and I’m about to shock him further. With his eyes wide and his mouth agape, I unbutton my shirt and drop it to the floor, then unclip my bra, leaving my chest bare. I spin on the balls of my feet, unzip my skirt, and push it to the floor.
“All of it. I want to see you push your panties to the floor. Show me your slick pussy dripping with my cum.” He groans, and I glance over my shoulder at him. His hand moves up and down his length over the top of his jeans, and I smile internally, doing as he asked.
“Are you going to give me my bath now?” I bite my bottom lip.
“Fuck yes,” he growls, and I saunter into the bathroom.
MASE
The water cascades over Summer’s head as I use the showerhead to rinse the strawberry drink off her.
When she went into the bathroom, I was frozen to the spot, scared I wouldn’t be able to keep my hands off her. Her ass was still welted from my spanking, and her thighs were coated with my cum. Every part of me wanted to take her again, but I need to be more than the man using her body for his own personal gain. I want to mean something to her, like she’s quickly becoming something more to me.
When I finally entered the bathroom, she was already in the tub, with bubbles hiding her body. I was disappointed but partly relieved she’d taken the temptation away from me.
“We need to talk,” I finally say as I finish rinsing her.
With her so exposed, a protective streak rifles through me.
“Hm, I figured.” Her eyes meet mine, and they’re full of uncertainty. Uncertainty I want to banish.
I shake my head. She thinks this is about us. It’s not, not really.
“Are you aware of any cameras in the house?”
She stills, and who can blame her? She’s probablyrealizing she was being filmed during private moments. I want to reassure her, but I also need her take on the situation.
“Did you know about them?”
Her face is pale, her chest rising beneath the bubbles.
“Summer?” My eyes ping-pong over her face, and she shudders despite the water being hot.
Then she shakes her head, snapping out of her daze. “Y-Yeah.” Her eyes lock with mine. “I know about the cameras.” The truth bleeds from her, and my eyebrows pull together as I contemplate if asking her the next question is a good idea. “Did you know there were some in your room too?”
She swallows hard, then licks her bottom lip while her stare remains locked on mine. “Yes.”
“Do you know why?” My pulse races.
