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I nod.
This time, I'm not carried out of the house. Mason takes my hand and walks me outside, down the stairs and towards the car that's waiting for us. I see Filippe standing in front of it.
"Good to have you back, signorina Newton," he tells me as he opens the back door for me, and I give him a weak smile.
I take one last look over my shoulder, and seeing my father alone like that hurts, I'm not going to lie. But I know I owe it to myself to see if there's a future in store for Mason and me.
"Goodbye, Daddy," I say softly, then quickly look away and climb into the car. I can't stand looking into my father's hurt eyes.
Mason climbs in after me, and I stare at my father's figure as we drive away. The tension in the car is palpable, but neither of us says a word.
After a while, Mason's hand finds mine, and our fingers intertwine. We're still not talking as I lean my head against his shoulder, and let myself slowly drift off to sleep.
For the first time in a week, I'm not plagued by nightmares, and I sleep the whole way to the airport, and most of the plane ride home.
Home. Because that's what Mason's house is to me now, and hopefully, for a long time to come.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CARA
PRESENT TIME
He's claimed my last hole, just like I knew he would. And now I belong to him completely.
Neither of us has said the words yet, confessed how we feel about one another. I can feel them on the tip of my tongue, hanging above us in the hot room, just waiting to spill from our mouths. But something's stopping me.
Mason's hands are caressing my skin, sliding down my back. My spine tingles from his touch and I lean into his palm, desperate for more.
I can't believe I'm back here, can't believe he came to get me. My dad's going to kill me... and I don't give a shit. This is where I belong, and I've never been more sure about that in my life. Lying in Mason's arms is where I should be.
It takes us several minutes to calm down and he cuddles me close with his eyes close. Finally, he reaches for my hands and grunts at the sight of my ruined knuckles.
"We have to take care of that," he says roughly. "Can't let it get infected."
I nod, half-expecting the spell we're under to break, but it persists. The floor is covered with glass shards and Mason lifts me into his arms as if I weigh nothing, carrying me out of the bedroom. I curl up in his arms, naked and vulnerable, always feeling the fullness inside my ass. He's lodged the plug in there firmly, and as he carries me, his hand ventures down my back, toying with the crystal toy. I whimper and he chuckles.
He carries me up into his studio. I can't look at the paintings, the torn canvases are too painful for me right now. Mason notices, and throws a white sheet over their ruined surface. He sits me down on the floor and returns a moment later with some antiseptic and bandages.
He makes me stretch out my hands, and I whimper at the pain in my fingers. I shouldn't have smashed that mirror, but fuck, I needed to. I needed to show Mason how much he meant to me, how badly I wanted him. I needed him to know we belong together.
Mason cleans my cuts gently, the antiseptic making me hiss when it stings my wounds.
"It's okay, sweetheart," he tells me gently. "Shhh, I'm only making it better."
"I know," I reply weakly, offering him a brave smile - as brave as I can muster at the late time of night, when I'm sleepy and tired and so fucking full.
"Good girl," Mason praises me. "Only a few fingers left."
He wraps up my hands in the bandages, and the blood starts seeping through right away. Mason furrows his brows at that.
"This isn't good," he tells me. "We should probably get you to a hospital, baby. See if you need stitches."
I panic at the thought, crawling into his arms on the floor and pressing myself as close to him as I can possibly manage.
"Don't leave me," I beg him. "Don't take me away. I'll be good, I promise."
My voice is shaky and scared, and Mason seems surprised as he smoothes down my hair, pressing a sweet kiss against my forehead.
"Okay, I won't," he promises. "But we do need to talk, Cara."
My body tenses in his arms and I wait rigidly as he gets up. He digs around an old wardrobe in the corner of the room and comes back with several pillows and thick blankets.
"I sleep here sometimes," he explains as he settles them on the floor.
It's late summer now, and it's cooling down. We burrow ourselves in the softness of the blankets and he pulls me tightly against his chest, my breasts pressed against his hard pecs.
I look up at him, his eyes already on mine. Once again, I'm reminded of how painfully handsome the man is as he reaches between my legs again. I mewl when he pushes the plug deeper inside me.
"Does it hurt?" he asks me gently, and I shake my head no. "Good. Keep it in a while longer. I like knowing my cum's trapped inside you, baby."
I blush at his words and try to look away, but Mason won't let me. He keeps his gaze locked on mine as he begins to talk.
"I think I should tell you something," he says simply.
"What is it?" I'm scared.
"The garden," he says roughly. "Remember the garden? The walled-in one."
I nod, my heart pounding. The secret garden. Is he finally about to tell me what happened there?
"It was built for someone," Mason says.
His eyes are clear, his voice strong, but I can hear the vulnerability in his tone.
"A little girl. She was... she used to live here," he continues. "Her name was Olivia. She was my daughter."
My whole body tightens in his arms, but it only makes him hold on to me harder, like an anchor. Like he needs me to stay afloat in this mess we've made for ourselves.
"I didn't know you had a daughter," I say softly.
"Not many people do," he says. "Except for Filippe, and of course, Luca."
"Is she his sister?" I ask.
"She was."
Mason touches my bottom lip, his finger sliding into my mouth. I lick him because it's an instinct, because I want to taste him, fill all of my senses with him. He groans.
"What happened?" I want to know.
"Car accident." His voice is devoid of emotion. "Her mother was driving her to kindergarten when a trucker hit them. The back of the car, it was smashed. She died on the spot. She was four years old."
I don't even know what to say, but my eyes fill with tears nonetheless. We look at each other for a long time.
"I'm so sorry, Sir," I say softly.
"Don't." His voice is rough, scaring me. "Don't call me that right now."
I reach for his face and he turns to the side. I pull myself higher and kiss him. Soft, sweet. Promising him a future and hoping he understands what I'm trying to convey.
His lips are rigid against mine, cold and unrelenting. I push my way through the barrier he's trying to create between us.
This whole summer, our whole relationship, has been about him breaking me - making me submit. But maybe Mason's the broken one out of the two of us.
"Kiss me," I whisper against his lips. "Let me make it better."
He sighs and his lips part. I take advantage of it, pushing my tongue into his mouth and whispering against his lips.
"It's okay, Mason. It's okay. I know it hurts. It'll get better. I'll make it better."
His bottom lip is trembling and I bite down on it.
"Mason," I whisper. "I'm so sorry, Mason."
A single groan leaves his lips and then he's on me, climbing on top of me and caging me underneath his strong body.
"You've already made it better," he says roughly. "You... you made me love you."
I giggle, though my heart is pounding.
"So it's my fault then?" I tease him, and he grins.
"Yes." He nuzzles my neck. "All your fucking fault, sweetheart."
I wrap my legs around him and he settles against my body. I can feel the tension inside him slowly seeping awa
y, falling through the cracks his tragic past made in him. He's getting better. And I'll help him heal.
"Cara mia," he mutters against my ear. "I love you, Cara. I really fucking do."
I bite his neck and I lick my response into his skin, making him groan.
"Say it back," he demands, and I laugh again.
"Make me."
He raises his eyebrows. In a second, his hand is on my ass, and he toys with the plug. In an out, swirling it in my ass so I feel his cum inside me. I gasp, and I can't stop myself from moaning his name.
"What was that, baby?" he asks me roughly.
"I..." I mewl. "I love you."
"And what else?"
"And I'm yours, Mason."
"Good," he coos, pulling the plug out and making me gasp as I feel his cum spill from my hole. "That's all I ever wanted, sweetheart."
WE DON'T COME out of the studio until midday the next day. We stop in our respective bedrooms to get dressed, and Mason holds my hand as we walk down the stairs and into the dining room. I stop in my tracks when we walk in.
Luca's sitting at the dining room table, digging into a plate of eggs Benedict.
"Good morning," Mason says formally, and Luca looks up from his meal.
"Morning," he replies stiffly.
I stand there, frozen to the spot.
"What is he doing here?" I ask, my voice shaky.
"Leaving," Mason promises me.
He leaves a fleeting kiss against my cheek just as Luca gets up from his chair and approaches me. Instinctively, I hide behind Mason, his strong body protecting me from his stepson.
"I just want to apologize," Luca says, looking into my eyes. "I never meant to hurt you, Cara. I just... I was fucking drunk. I wanted to scare you."
"You did a good job," I hiss.
He laughs bitterly.
