toward him and hugged his large frame. “I love you, Daddy.”
A kiss landed on my hair. A sigh sifted the hair beside my cheek. “I want you happy, Angel-mine.”
I didn’t respond, because he would have known anything I said to reassure him would be a lie. Pasting on a smile, I leaned back. “Have fun. Be sure to make Mona swallow her Dramamine before you take her out in the yacht.”
We shared a smile.
“Mason will be around.” His gaze sharpened. “I’ve already spoken to him. He’ll check in to make sure you’re okay.”
And to make sure I didn’t end up in jail, I was sure.
When he left, I flounced onto my bed. Mason and I would be alone in this big old house. The thought was... disturbing. Would he be entertaining company? If I swept into his room, would he have some pretty slut bent over one of his padded benches with her ass in the air, ready to be trained ?
Staring at the ceiling, I couldn’t help the images that filled my mind. I remembered how good it had felt when Heather pinched my nipples and when I’d awoken with leather banding my wrists. That tug he’d given the chain connecting them had caused a thrill way out of proportion with the action.
Could he be right?
Was it possible he could give me what no other man had ever managed? What I’d never managed with anything less than a turbo-drive vibrator?
Hours passed. Darkness crept in to fill the corners of the room. I lay nude, my fingers playing in my cunt, slightly aroused, but only because I was thinking about what might await me two floors below. My gaze went to the paper bag I’d left on my dresser, the top crumpled closed because I’d opened and closed it so many times to stare at the items he’d given me.
Did I dare?
Before I could talk myself out of it, I showered and shaved, leaving my body clean except for a light application of my favorite lotion. Then I tore open the bag and put on the things he’d insisted I wear, sliding on a silky robe before padding barefoot through the house, down the stairs, out the side door and through the garden to the back of the house. The well-lit entrance had a camera. I flipped back my hair and raised my face to it as I rapped the brass ring in the bull’s nose affixed to his door.
I stood with my heart thudding, my face heating, my body so restless my thighs rubbed. But the door never opened.
Frowning, I reached for the ring again and gave the door a harder knock. The look I gave the camera could have peeled paint, but still, he left me waiting. Or was he gone? Had I angsted over this for nothing?
The intercom squawked. “Go away, Angeline.”
But I was there, ready to explore. I needed something . If he knew a way to break open my internal restraints, I couldn’t let him turn me away. Pride be damned. I unfisted my hand and took the key to the restraints and slid it through the old mail slot on the door, listening as the key tinkled on the tile flooring inside.
Then leaning toward the speaker, I managed to say the words, “Fix me. Please, Mason.”
After another minute, the door creaked open.
I met Mason’s steady stare. For a long moment, neither of us moved, and then he stood back, opening the door wider. And although he didn’t invite me with a word or gesture, I stepped over the threshold.
“First,” he said, holding up a hand to halt me. “Your safe word is suicide.”
“Safe word... suicide?” I nodded, gulping. I hated the word. Hated the fact he’d seen me at my lowest.
He turned to walk away. Without looking back, he gestured to the coat rack. “Leave your robe there.”
Somehow, I didn’t feel naked. Not with a leash hanging from the side of the leather collar around my neck, and wrist and ankle restraints snug against my skin. I followed, walking with my head tilted high, a flush heating my cheeks—not from embarrassment but from a simmering excitement.
He wore a snug gray t-shirt and jeans. His feet were bare as he padded ahead of me, down the