Chapter 23

Chapter Twenty-Three

Ainsley

I hear a series of faint taps on my window, my eyes refuse to open, and my body screams for me to ignore the noise. My phone buzzes as I am about to throw a pillow on top of my head. Ugh.

A text, no, an image of Mason smiling at the front door.

Mase: Honey, I'm home.

Nine: I'm not home.

Mase: Nine.

Nine: It's four in the freaking morning. What is with you and leaving or arriving in the wee hours of the morning?

Mase: I thought you missed me.

Mase: I need a bed. Please!

Nine: You have the keys to the house and the alarm code. If not, you can break-in. I'm not getting out of bed.

Mase: I'll take that as an invitation.

Nine: Take it as a ‘let me sleep, or I'll behead you tomorrow morning.'

Mase: It's already morning ((smiley face))

I hear him as he enters the code and then activates it again. His heavy steps take the wooden stairs, and then the noise fades until the handle of my door makes that creaking sound as he moves it. Now I hear him untying his industrial boots and…

"Wait, are you undressing?" My eyes open as I hear the zipper.

"Yes." I hear his clothing hitting the floor. "My shoes, shirt, and jacket. I'm keeping my boxers… unless you want to give me a nice welcome home present."

"You wish."

"Oh, Nine, if you knew all I wish to do, you'd use your teacher's ruler and spank me for being a bad, bad boy."

The bed dips on the other side, and soon an arm pulls me to his hard body.

"Morning, my beautiful Nine," Mason whispers, and I set my head on top of his chest. He showers me with small kisses all over my face and neck.

"Morning, Mase," I whisper back. "Somehow, I can't picture you being the one spanked. You like to be in control during sex. Bossy, that's who you are. I can see you spanking me, though."

"Oh, I can spank," his raspy voice caresses my insides. "Hard if you want, but I'd rather not. That's not my scene. The most I can promise is tying you up and giving you all the pleasure in the world."

"Mason, do you ever think about anything else?" I switch the conversation before I tell him where to find my scarves and see what tricks he can do while I'm at his mercy.

"We discuss other things," he defends himself as he takes a deep breath. "Humans are sexual beings. They always think of sex—just not everyone admits it. I do think of sex—often, and if it could happen with a green-eyed brunette I have my eye on, my early morning will end perfectly. Do I hear a yes?"

"You have a bed," I remind him.

"Yes, but that bed doesn't have you, and it happens to be right in my office," he says. "People will knock down the door and start wanting a piece of me, not in a sexual way."

I grunt, and he takes a deep breath in as he touches my pajamas. A black lace baby doll with nude mesh looks like a barely-there gown.

Mason shifts around the bed and lights my body. "Have I mentioned that you own the sexiest lingerie I've ever seen?"

He raises a hand to my cheek, cups my face gently, and bends down. Mason's lips touch mine and start moving softly, sweetly. He releases my cheek, and his hand explores my body.

My breath catches in my throat with anticipation as his hand feathers over my bare thighs and sneaks toward my already-wet core.

"Commando, Ainse?" He flicks a finger in my folds. "I missed you, my sweet Nine."

"We should do this after you nap," I half joke.

"No time like the present," he murmurs. "I'm only here for a few hours. I just wanted to make sure you're all right, and I was craving…" He devours my mouth with his. "A taste of you."

Mason uses his magical mouth and expert hands on my body.

Mmm, morning sex.

I'm heading back home from the music school where I had just finished Anika's piano lesson. As we started summer school, we couldn't help but agree to private lessons for a few people who requested them.

A car blocking my driveway piques my curiosity, and I ease my foot from the gas pedal while trying to figure out who the owner of that vehicle is.

Who could it be?

Hopefully, someone carrying food. My stomach rumbles, and I feel lightheaded. I haven't eaten since noon, and that had been only a sandwich. By seven, I will go into shock if I don't consume real food soon. My stomach cramps for the lack of real sustenance. I keep repeating the same thing: Two more days, and I'm in Baja. The pool, the sun, and all the food Coco can prepare for me.

The car isn't Mason's. I was hoping he'd be home soon. He left after an impromptu visit and never mentioned when he'd be back. I park the car in front of the house as my garage door is blocked, then walk to the entrance where I find him. Disheveled black mane, beard, and bloodshot eyes.

"Hi, baby." He takes a step forward.

"Porter?" I take one step backward, scrunching my nose as the stench of booze overwhelms me. "Why—what are you doing here?"

"We need to talk. Let's go inside," he orders, tilting his head toward the door.

"The night is fresh." I pull my raincoat tighter. "We can talk out here."

"In, now, Ainsley. Don't fucking start with your stupid shit. I'm not in the mood."

"You know what, I'm not in the mood either, Porter," I slash back but regret it as he pulls his hand out of his jacket, revealing a gun. My brain freezes to the point of not being able to even gasp. Not one muscle of my body or face moves.

"In the fucking house now ."

The preservation instinct melts the big chunk of ice, and I follow his instructions. I unlock the door and let him into the house, wondering if I could head to the kitchen and escape from that door. Or try to leave by way of the deck. Maybe I could signal the neighbors to call the police. I wish my parents weren't out of town.

"Porter?" My voice trembles as he waves the gun in front of me. I move from the door but leave it open.

"Turn off that fucking noise," he screams, tilting his head toward the alarm speaker. "Now."

Horror sweeps away all my coherent thoughts. A gun. He swings it at me again. The alarm, of course. I hurry and press the code. The hostage code. The siren won't go off, but the monitoring service will send someone. The guy who installed it explained that to me. Will they tell Mason since this is his security system?

My hands tremble, my lip quivers, and my entire body is about to give up. "What do you want to talk about?"

"Us, Ainsley. What else? Us." He points the gun from him to me. "You lied to your parents. You told those bastardsI used you. I never used you. Do you have any idea how deep in shit I am?"

No.

"My life can be over if I don't do something fast," he yells at me. "You're a crazy bitch. I put up with you, and you repaid me by telling them lies. They don't want to see me again. I need to record some shit and make some money."

"I'll take you back," he slurs, stepping closer to me.

"Back?" I shout. "To what?"

He swings his arm, striking my temple with the gun. I touch it, my shock greater than my pain as my head begins to pound.

Shake it off, Ainsley. I make some room between us.

"You fucking bitch, after all I did for you. One more chance is all I'm going to give you."

"Chance to what?" I sound like a broken record, but the part of my brain that should create coherent thoughts is trembling at the moment, along with the rest of my body.

"To be with me," he declares and closes the gap again. "Here or on the other side."

He traces a line with the gun over my chest, the stunning cold metal that threatens to end it all right now. Move, do something, I tell myself, but my lower limbs barely sustain me. "Other side? Like another country?"

"So many degrees, and you're dumber than I am," he huffs.

You are smarter than him. He's drunk, for God's sake, Ainsley Janine. Do something. What to do, what to do? Maybe slide a few steps to the side, out of his reach.

"We should both die; I can be with my family. My mother, my siblings, you and James."

My parents come to mind, as does Mr. Bradley's self-defense lessons before I headed to college. What would he say? Focus on your opponent, don't panic. Find a way to distract him and run.

A large steel band squeezes against my chest, pressing hard and taking away my last breath. So much for not panicking.

The gun wobbles in Porter's hand. It isn't too high. I could kick his hand and run to the deck. He has trouble standing—I hope. No, a kick might not carry enough strength. I touch my temple again as the dizziness and fogginess blur my vision. My fingers are slick with blood. Damn, he hit me hard.

This is enough.

Porter isn't hurting me anymore. I won't let him. Rage energizes my entire body. How dare I let him win? He's no one, nothing. A scared, stupid man who couldn't grow up.

"You're a coward, a cheater, and a liar incapable of doing anything." I take a step closer. "Useless piece of shit and everyone knows it."

I'm hitting him hard where it hurts, but that's the only weapon I know that will gut him.

"Don't make me do this," his words stumble.

I am close enough to use my head.

I smash it against his face as hard as I can, coming in contact with his nose.

"You're tiny enough that you might have to use your head," Mr. Bradley said. "It's hard enough to cause damage if you hit your opponent in the face."

"Damn, you fucking crazy bitch." A gush of blood bathes my hair.

I use my knee to kick him in the groin, and when he drops to the floor, I run outside the house. Screaming for help, I jump in my car.