Chapter 27

Leah

It’s on like Donkey Kong.

We arrived in New York late last night, fucked all over Mason’s stupidly big house and crashed in bed around three in the morning.

“My dick’s so hard it’s going to snap off.” Mason runs his fingers up my bare thigh. “Fuck I need you again, Princess.”

I slap his hand away. “Eyes on the road, buster.”

He growls but listens. There’s something incredibly heady about having a man like Mason wrapped around my pinky. I think I could strut around in a potato sack, and he’d get turned on by it. The man’s insatiable.

My cell lights up in my purse. Digging it out, I roll my eyes. “Ugh, it’s Mr. C.” He’s messaged me six times today.

Mason’s jaw ticks as he sails through a red light.

“He can suck it.” I hit a button and put my phone in my purse again.

“What did you just do?”

“Blocked him.”

“Poor guy.”

“Daisy Ren’s getting big changes soon, anyway. She has big plans.”

Mason puts both hands on the steering wheel. “Intriguing. Care to share?”

“Not tonight. This idea of mine is so close to getting the green light, I’m too scared to jinx it by sharing it with anyone yet.”

“I get it. I’m the same way.”

The guilt I’ve felt holding this news so close to my chest eases hearing him say that. I haven’t even told Mak about my big plans. No one but me and a few investors know about it.

When Mason brought up me being on camera with him again last night, while we fucked on his balcony, I almost spilled the beans. I want to tell him about my endeavor so badly it makes me giddy. But I won’t.

Stay strong, Leah. It’s not time yet.

We reach the hotel where there’s a cluster of people and flashing lights on the red-carpeted sidewalk. I gawk at the crowd, reality setting in about how huge this event actually is, as guests climb out of their stretch limos and fancy cars. Mason told me it was a big deal, but I didn’t think it would be this fucking big.

Holy crap.

Mason frowns as he looks at the guests ahead of us. “Jesus, she’s pulled the big dogs in for this.”

I have no clue who any of these uber wealthy people are, and I don’t care. “Ready to play?”

Before I can pull the latch on the car door, Mason growls. “Don’t you dare touch that door, woman.”

I put my hands up like I’m under arrest.

“I’ve got one job and you’re trying to take it from me.” He steps out and swaggers around his car, looking like billion-dollar sex candy, and opens my door for me. “Princess.”

I take his offered hand and the number of lights that flash and flicker in my face makes it hard to see. Mason warned me this could happen. Actual paparazzi are here tonight.

Some call out his name and ask questions about BanditFX, but he doesn’t answer them. Smile, wave, walk—he acts more like a robot than a human. Wow, he’s really uncomfortable here. It makes me want to protect him even more.

This calls for a diversion.

“Come on.” I link my arm with his and feel the way he’s tensing up. “Relax, Mase. We’re going to have fun tonight.” I’ll make sure of it.

“This is the worst.”

“How about I make it the best?” We get inside and after a quick scan of the lobby, I veer him off to the left.

“Where are we going?”

“I don’t know.” I keep walking. “I’m winging it.”

We finally end up in a closet that’s got a vacuum and a shelf full of trash bags, towels, and cleaning products.

The irony is not lost on me.

“Take a deep breath,” I urge. “You looked like you wanted to crawl under the red carpet and disappear out there.”

Mason’s gaze eats me up. “I’d rather crawl under your dress.” Chest rising, his heavy breaths punch out of him, and I swear he’s going to rip his tux. Wrapping his arm around my waist, he pulls me flush against him. “I’m not going to be able to keep myself off you all night. I don’t even want to try.”

The instant his mouth lands on my neck, I groan. He always hits my hotspot on first contact and is absolutely relentless. “God, Mason.” I sink my fingers into his hair, messing it all up. “You drive me wild.”

“Good.” He drops to his knees. “Because you do the same to me.”

He ducks under my gown and rips my panties apart with one good yank.

“Damnit, Mase! Those are my prettiest pair.”

“They’re still pretty,” he argues from between my thighs. “And now they’re mine.” He licks my pussy. “This is mine too.” He licks me again.

“Ooof!” My legs give out with that one. Holy hell his tongue is talented.

“Hold still, Princess.” Mason lifts my right foot and places it on his shoulder. Then he gives me an orgasm that has me groaning into the tablecloths hanging on hangers behind us.

When he crawls out from under my ballgown, he wipes his mouth off with my ripped panties. “I want to fuck you.”

Samsies.

“We’re going to play a game, Princess.” He takes my underwear and balls them in his hand. “You’re going to try to keep quiet, and I’m going to do everything in my power to make you fucking fail.”

“Challenge accepted.”

With a wicked grin, he stuffs the panties into my mouth.

He unbuckles his belt, yanking it free from the loops in one swift, hard pull. The sound makes me wetter. Mason grips my throat and pushes his big cock inside me in one thrust. “Fuuuuck, how are you so goddamn wet?”

Easy. I’m with him.

With one leg wrapped around his hip, the other barely touching the floor, I hang onto his shoulders while Mason lifts me off the ground with every thrust.

I know we’re supposed to behave tonight, but I want everyone to hear us. See us.

Envy us.

“I want to fill you up. I want my cum dripping out of you all night.” His speed picks up. The friction is amazing. Add to that the roar of people mingling on the other side of the door, the thrill of being caught, and my orgasm blasts out of me. I spit the lace out of my mouth and scream his name.

He slams me against the door, his pace quickening. “Fuck, woman. Say it again.”

“Make me.”

My man’s eyes blow wide, and I have about one-point-two seconds to brace myself before he bites down on my neck, right on my hotspot. “Oh god, Mason!” My pussy clamps down on him immediately.

“That’s my good girl. Let everyone know who you belong to.” His thrusts deepen and body heat radiates through his tux. “Fuuuuuck.” His cock pulses when he comes.

I’d give anything to have this on camera—the way he looks, how he sounds.

Too bad that can’t happen.

Once he’s spent, Mason lowers me to the ground and presses his head against mine. “Holy shit, my heart’s beating so fast.”

“Mine too.”

He picks up my ruined panties that I’d spit onto the floor and puts them in his pocket, not bothering to scold me for taking them out of my mouth earlier.

“Ready?” He’s back to being the Mason I know, instead of the intense, detached version I feared he was turning into outside.

“Yup.”

Fluffing my gown, I follow him out of the closet, and we join the rest of the crowd for cocktails. He introduces me to a bunch of people, but their names go in one ear and out the other. He keeps up with polite conversation even as he scans the room constantly.

Who is he looking for?

“There she is!” A familiar voice chimes from the bar.

Landon swaggers over to us with amber liquid in his glass. “Damn, woman, you are looking good tonight.”

“She looks good every night, asshole,” Mason grumbles.

“Forgive me. Mason’s right.” Landon kisses my hand. “But you look exceptionally good tonight.” He spins me around. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he was trying to get people to look at us.

“Stop being an attention whore,” Gage growls, walking over with a hand in his pocket. He claps Mason on the back in greeting before grabbing my hand and kissing it. “It’s wonderful to see you again, Leah.”

Mason looks even more relaxed now. “Where’s Kerrington?”

“He’s here somewhere.” Landon looks around. “I swear I’m gonna put a leash on him. He gets distracted too easily. Ohh! Bacon-wrapped scallops.” He walks off.

Another man shows up to the party. “How dare you show your face here.”

Who I can only assume is Mason’s brother, Jackson, storms over to us. He’s a slimmer, shorter version of Mason, but with lighter hair and a different shaped mouth.

Landon hands Mason his drink. “Here, you look like you need this more than me.”

Mason takes a sip. “Jackson.”

“You’ve got fucking balls, motherfucker.”

My man doesn’t seem fazed in the slightest. “You should get a pair yourself. They’re pretty great to have.”

“And so fun to play with,” I add.

Kerrington snarfs his drink. “I really love her,” he whispers loudly to Landon.

“Me too,” Landon whisper-yells back.

Someone else joins the scene. Tall, thin, jet-black hair and bright… blue… Oh my god. No way. This new guy stares right at me and all the color drains from his face.

“Carmichael.” Mason dips his head.

Jackson grabs Carmichael’s arm and steers him away. “Come on, Jon. Let’s go.”

A small bell chimes. Cocktail hour is over, time for dinner.

Except I can’t move, even as everyone else heads inside the large banquet hall.

“Hey, are you okay?” Mason grazes my arm, giving it a little squeeze. “That’s just Jonathan Carmichael. He looks scarier than he is. Trust me.”

I watch Jon escort his wife—his very pregnant wife—inside. He looks over his shoulder, pinning me with another hard look before disappearing through the door with everyone else.

My mouth runs dry. “That’s Mr. C.”

Mason tenses and we both stare at each other for several measurably slow heartbeats. “You’re sure?”

“Positive.”

His jaw ticks.

“Who’s Mr. C?” Landon asks.

I don’t want to answer that question.

“What do you want to do, Leah?” Mason’s hard stare hits me square in the heart. I think if I told him I want to leave, he’d take me home immediately. But we didn’t come here to tuck tail and run.

“Come on, boys. Escort me into the lion’s den. I’m starving.” Hooking Mason’s arm, I fortify my walls and remember what’s important tonight.

The ballroom is decked out in elaborate floral arrangements, crystal, gold candelabras, and embroidered cloth. It looks like a fairytale.

And I’m the princess at this ball. Dressed in vintage haute couture, my confidence is through the roof, and nothing will dampen it. Especially not Jonathon foot-fetish Carmichael.

Head high, Mason escorts me over to our table. “We’re at lucky number thirteen.” He pulls my chair out as I scan the room, feeling a lot of eyes on me at once.

Carmichael and Jackson are in an animated conversation at the table next to ours, and they both look over at us at the same time. Jackson grins this awful toothy smile right at Mason and my stomach sinks.

Fuck .