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So I merely nod and keep walking, steps heavy on the carpet.
Deciding it best to relax, I take a long bath, slowly lowering myself into the hot water. Even though I showered at Mason’s place, the privacy of a long, lingering bath is much needed. And running my fingers gently up my inner thigh, my thoughts drift to the billionaire again.
He was so gorgeous. Powerful. Commanding.
I was electrified in his presence, every cell coming alive.
And I want him again. I shouldn’t, but I do.
Something tells me this is wrong. Because it is. I should feel used, even taken advantage of. But there’s none of that. Those emotions don’t even play a part in my mind. Instead, all I want is more him. More hot caresses. More whispers, the feel of his breath on the nape of my neck.
I wish Mason was here.
Now.
In the bathroom, in this tub with me.
But he’s not, and slowly, I lift myself out of the water, curves dripping. Get with it! the voice in my mind scoffs. So what? You went on one date? That doesn’t mean anything.
But the words can’t dampen my bliss. And for the first time in a long while, sleep comes easy. Mr. Channing’s put me through the wringer, every muscle sore and achy, the tenderness between my legs new.
The next morning, I wait at the small breakfast counter in our kitchen until Nicole appears. My sister wipes at her eyes, yawning heavily. I almost laugh because suddenly the image of a cute five year-old dressed in footie jammies reappears in my mind, sleepy and chubby.
“Come on,” I say merrily. “We’re going shopping!”
Her eyes blink blearily.
“What?” is her belated question. “Why?”
I stand firm.
“It’s time you wore something other than hand-me-downs,” I say, hands on my hips. “We usually dress in Goodwill, but not anymore. Today, we’re going shopping!” I beam.
My sister’s reluctant at first.
“Are you sure?” she says. “I mean, we don’t have to,” she adds hesitantly. “I don’t mind wearing the same old stuff, it’s clean and neat.”
But I’m not gonna let her say no. There’s money burning a hole in my pocket courtesy of Mason Channing, and there’s no better person to spend it on than my baby sister.
“You’re in ninth grade,” I say firmly. “You deserve better than the old men’s jacket you’ve been wearing. Come on, let’s get you a new coat at least.”
And my sister nods then. I can tell she desperately wants a different anorak, the one we picked up from Goodwill is three sizes too big and an ugly green color.
“Okay,” she mumbles this time. “But are you sure, Carrie? I don’t mind, really.”
Shaking my head, I fix her with a mock glare.
“Are you really gonna turn me down? Come on, let’s go!” are my cheery words.
We drive off to the mall in a good mood, humming and singing to the car radio.
I’m so happy to be spending time with my sister. And you know what? I want to get Nicole more than a jacket. She deserves better. So we try on a couple things together, mittens, hats, even sweaters, prancing in front of the mirrors like little girls, dancing and twirling.
But as Nicole disappears into the dressing room to try on one last thing, my phone buzzes. And looking down, I see Mason’s number. Oh god, oh god. My heart flutters, adrenaline suddenly pumping through my veins. With trembling fingers, my voice comes out a little creaky.
“Hi.”
Good, that sounded normal.
Of course, he’s not nervous at all.
“Hi, Gorgeous,” the billionaire rumbles in a deep voice that sounds shivers down my spine. And like an idiot, words pop into my mouth then.
“I was hoping you would call,” is my murmur. Oh no! My hand flies up to cover my mouth. But it’s too late. I was supposed to play it cool, but instead I’ve already blurted the truth out there for him to hear. Oh no, oh no!
Mason growls, pleased.
“Of course I’d call. I needed to check on you. Make sure everything is okay,” his voice caresses my ears.
Immediately a smile wreaths my face.
“Oh I got home fine last night,” is my chirpy tone. “Just fine, thanks.”
The billionaire chuckles again.
“Naw, not just that honey. I mean, are you sore? How are you feeling? Is that pussy tight and achy?”
Red flushes over my cheeks.
“Oh right,” is my whisper. “Yes, I’m good, thanks,” I say in a lowered voice, looking around. My heart’s thumping like mad, this conversation so illicit. “But we have to talk,” my voice comes a little louder now. “There was so much … you know.”
Mason doesn’t miss a beat.
“That’s right sweetheart,” he rumbles. “I always have a lot of semen and you got a heavy dose last night. There’ll be more coming, but I promise, we’ll use protection going forwards. Do you have a doctor’s appointment scheduled?”
