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  What he pulled out from the bag this time made her giggle—the long lengths of ribbon from the gaudy bows he’d ordered for her roses and chocolates that first day.

  Mason ignored her laughter and pulled her arms over her head. He proceeded to wrap the ribbon around them until she couldn’t move to separate them from each other. And then he tied the ribbon to the two legs of the coffee table at her head.

  Jenna sobered at the thought of being so secured. She squirmed against the glass, already immobile from having her arms secured.

  Mason grabbed another length of ribbon and threaded it under the table. He brought the two long ends over her and wrapped them across her chest, crisscrossing the ribbon so her breasts were squeezed to points.

  “God, Jenna. That’s so fucking sexy,” Mason muttered as he leaned back. “I’ve never used ribbon before. You look like a gift.” He reached for another length and started at her ankles this time, winding the ribbon up her shins as he forced them apart and attached them to the legs of the table.

  Jenna breathed heavier as he worked. She felt more exposed than ever with her pussy wide and her breasts restrained.

  When he finished and stood to circle her, she lifted her head to survey his work. Amazing. She couldn’t believe the body she stared down at was her own. Renewed moisture filled her pussy. A tight ball of need pulsed low in her hollowed belly. She moaned as she set her head back down and closed her eyes, trying to get a grip on herself.

  She hoped he didn’t notice. She needed him to touch her—everywhere. But she knew he would do what he pleased on his own watch. Anything she said would only make things worse.

  Long moments passed before she felt the lightest touch on her arm and opened her eyes.

  Mason hovered over her with a long feather in his hand. He stroked it up her forearm while staring into her eyes.

  Goose bumps rose all over her body.

  “Gorgeous, baby,” he whispered. He lifted the feather and set it back down on her neck, dragging the tip in tiny circles. Gradually moving lower, Mason tickled her breasts.

  When he danced the feather over her nipples, she came undone, bucking futilely. She moaned.

  Mason ignored her. “I’ve never seen your nipples so erect. It’s very sexy.” He set the feather aside and pinched them both at once.

  Jenna squealed. “Mason…”

  He picked the feather back up and trailed down her belly until he reached her thighs. The tickling sensation on the insides of her legs made her stiffen. She needed something inside her worse than ever in her life.

  “Do you like Shibari?” He chuckled. “I’m going with yes, judging by the moisture between your legs.” Mason swiped a finger between her folds as he spoke, not penetrating enough to give her any satisfaction, but bringing her wetness out and stroking it across her clit.

  She would come. She knew it. Any second now she would come from this brief contact. He ruled her body.

  Mason continued down her legs with the feather, easing her need marginally. She wanted more, and she fought to keep from begging. He knew what he was doing.

  Finally he put the feather back in the bag and pulled out something else. The rustling noise was all Jenna had to judge his movements. She couldn’t see what he held now.

  A low hum filled the silence, and she widened her eyes, straining to lift her head enough to see.

  “Set your head back down, baby. Just feel. If you can’t keep still, I’ll cover your eyes and secure your forehead.”

  Oh God. Jenna laid her head back on the glass and rolled it from side to side. She swallowed, but her mouth was dry.

  The buzzing grew louder as he approached. She knew that noise. She had a vibrator at home she was very familiar with.

  Mason used one hand to pull her lower lips apart and pressed the dildo inside her without preamble.

  Jenna squealed. The phallic object was bigger than she’d expected. He stroked in and out in several quick thrusts before he removed it.

  The vibrating stopped as he must have set it aside. “Don’t come yet. Control the urge.”

  What? How the hell could she avoid coming?

  Jenna fought to lift her hips, unsuccessfully. Not a millimeter of space was available to her. She panted, trying to think of anything but her need to come.

  Mason stroked her thighs with both hands, so lightly she could barely feel his touch. “So smooth…”

  She shivered. Her pussy felt swollen.

  Mason caressed the outer lips, his fingers dancing around her sex until she wanted to scream at him. When he left her pussy altogether, trailing his fingers up her body, she whimpered uncontrollably as he leaned over her. She turned her head to one side and stared at her arm.

  He pinched her nipples firmly and then squeezed both globes of her breasts, already swollen from the pressure of the ribbon. “Look at me,” he commanded.

  Jenna turned her head back to the center, her eyes glazed as she tried to focus on his face.

  “You’re so horny.”

  “Yes…Sir.” She swallowed. The words came out gravelly.

  “Now do you understand the purpose of bondage?”

  “Yes, Sir.” She licked her lips, her tongue too dry to do any good. “Please.”

  “You need to come don’t you?”

  She nodded subtly.

  Mason kneeled between her legs, leaving her vision. He pulled her sex open with one hand and pressed two fingers into her with the other. “So pink and swollen. So needy. I think you’re starting to understand submission.” He spoke softly as he stroked in and out of her with not enough pressure, not enough fingers.

  Jenna tensed, her pussy grasping at his fingers.

  “So wet…”

  Her mind swam as she concentrated on his hands, his words, his warm breath brushing across her pussy as he spoke. Please…

  Just when she thought she would come, he stopped again. Jenna gasped.

  She lifted her head and watched as he unbuttoned his jeans and shimmied them and his underwear down his legs. In seconds he was naked. He gazed into her eyes as he rolled a condom over his cock. He lay over her body and entered her to the hilt so fast the fullness took her by surprise. He held steady deep inside her, his face strained.

  Good. She affected him too.

  He shook his head at her. “You make me feel things I never thought possible.” He stroked her face with both hands on either side of her.

  She didn’t speak. She simply nodded. Did he know he did the same to her?

  Not releasing her gaze, he pulled almost out of her and then plunged back into her depths. “Oh, baby…” His eyes fluttered.

  Jenna came. Hard and fast with no warning. She couldn’t have stopped it if he’d commanded her to. Her entire body shook with the pulsing of her pussy. She strained against her bindings to no avail. The low moan she heard came from her. The only movement she could make was to tip her head back, which exposed her neck to Mason.

  He dipped his face and nuzzled her throat, nibbling toward one ear as he stiffened inside her and came on the heels of her orgasm. “Oh… My… God… Jenna.” His words were garbled, but she got the gist.

  She heaved for air as her body relaxed onto the table.

  Mason inhaled slow and deep against her neck, over and over for several minutes until he finally lifted his gaze. “You’re so fucking sexy.” He glanced down at her body as he lifted farther off her. “I love these ribbons.” He trailed a finger between her breasts. “You can’t imagine how hot that made me.”

  “I bet I can.” She felt the same. Unbelievable, but being restrained had made her head swim with need. She grinned. “I loved it.”

  He paused and held her gaze. “I want to take pictures of you trussed up like this one day.”

  She froze, her eyes widening.

  He chuckled. “Not today. When you’re ready.”

  When would she ever be ready for that?

  Mason stood. He walked away for a few seconds out of sight and re
turned without the condom. He reached for one end of the ribbon and pulled. It seemed so simple how easily he removed her bindings. A simple bow held her in place. And yet she’d been unable to move an inch…

  Mason lifted her off the table and carried her to the bed. He settled her on his sheets and spooned himself behind her. Kisses landed on her neck and ear as she closed her eyes. The last thing she remembered was him whispering in her ear. “Sleep, baby…”

  Chapter Seventeen

  On Sunday night at six o’clock sharp, Mason reached for the bell next to the front door of the Mathews’ home. He held Jenna’s hand tighter than necessary and silently cursed his choice of clothing.

  He wore khaki Dockers and a button-up shirt, but somehow now that they’d arrived, he felt underdressed. Perhaps Jenna could have mentioned the level of opulence he would be stepping into. Judging by the size of the mansion her parents owned, he guessed they must be from very old money. Why was Jenna working her ass off to make ends meet and living in such a tiny old apartment? It made him cringe every time he pulled up to it. He worried about her safety. The area wasn’t the best.

  When he let his gaze land on Jenna’s face, he couldn’t feel anger, however. She chewed on her lower lip and seemed to have slipped into a much younger version of herself. The woman was petrified. This was not her idea of a good time. Perhaps he should have listened to her. Clearly, pressuring her into dinner with her family had been almost more than she could bear.

  The door opened, and Mason straightened up taller, flicking his gaze from Jenna to the man standing in the entrance.

  “Dad,” Jenna mumbled.

  “Welcome home.” He opened the door wider, allowing them entrance. “Patrick Mathews,” he said as he reached for Mason’s hand.

  “Mason Simmons. Nice to meet you, sir.”

  The man was stern, but didn’t appear nearly as stuffy or hoity as his wife, Joann.

  He turned to his daughter. “I’m glad you decided to grace us with your presence, Jenna. Your mother will be thrilled you’re back at home.”

  The way he worded his phrase made Mason’s skin crawl. His tone was…accusatory. This situation definitely screamed at him to keep all his senses on alert.

  Mason held Jenna’s hand as they followed her father into what Mason assumed was the library. He almost chuckled as he pictured grown men from a historical romance novel enjoying a brandy and a cigar after dinner while the womenfolk discussed embroidery in another parlor somewhere.

  That would never happen because Mason had no intention of releasing Jenna at any point during the evening, or at least not letting her out of his sight.

  His skin crawled in discomfort as she dug her nails into his palm seemingly without realizing it. Her face was paler than normal, and she barely released her lower lip from her teeth. No smile passed over her expression at any moment, and she glanced around the room as though some secret hidden escape route might be present behind one of the bookcases. Or maybe it was worse than that, and she feared she’d get sucked into the mansion at some corner and never be released.

  Obviously Jenna had had a falling out with her parents, and she wasn’t interested in reconciliation. Mason’s throat clenched at the thought. Family members needed to stick together, work things out through thick and thin. Mason couldn’t stand the idea of Jenna living year after year without working out her differences with her family. She was so lucky to have family. Why couldn’t she see that?

  Surely whatever her issues were, they weren’t nearly as large as she believed. Nobody’s problems were that big.

  “Drink, Mr. Simmons?” Patrick headed behind the bar and proceeded to pour himself several fingers of what appeared to be an expensive scotch.

  Mason shook his head. “No, sir. Thank you.” No way was he going to drink alcohol and lower his ability to read people this evening.

  “Are you an alcoholic, Mr. Simmons?” Patrick eyeballed Mason over his glass as he took a long swig of the brown liquid.

  Mason almost choked. “No, sir.”

  Patrick circled the bar and took a seat in a leather arm chair, nodding to a matching chair on the other side of a small round mahogany table that probably cost more than all the furniture in Mason’s entire home.

  Instead of taking the offered seat, Mason rounded the chair with Jenna in tow and pressed her forward.

  She gasped as she glanced back at him, but he raised an eyebrow, hoping she would realize he wasn’t taking no for an answer. She could either take the seat or argue with him, but he would win. He gambled she wouldn’t want to make a scene.

  No way was Mason going to sit in the open chair and leave Jenna standing. It would be rude. There were many other seats in the room, but none were close enough to engage in conversation with her father. Mason suspected Jenna was in far more need of a chat with Dad than Mason himself.

  Patrick lifted an eyebrow as Mason stood behind Jenna. She settled herself in the chair and crossed her legs. She didn’t look her father in the eye, but it was a start.

  “What do you do, Mason?”

  “He’s an accountant, Dad.” It was the first time Jenna spoke, and she did so quickly enough that Mason recognized her desire to paint Mason in her own way.

  At that moment a young lady waltzed into the room, saving them from more benign conversation. “Well hello there, sister. And who have we here?” The waif-like woman was nothing like Jenna. She was taller, blonde, and her huge blue eyes blinked as she spoke, her gaze directed at Mason.

  Mason cleared his throat and introduced himself. “Mason Simmons, ma’am. I’ve been dating your sister.”

  The woman smiled as though the idea were preposterous. She winked at him when Jenna wasn’t looking. “I’m Jean. Has anyone given you a tour? I’d be glad to while my sister speaks with Father.”

  Mason couldn’t believe the audacity of this woman. He would no sooner follow her from the room than he would cut his right arm off. She acted like a child instead of a grown adult.

  Jenna gasped.

  Mason squeezed her shoulder where he’d rested his hand when she’d taken a seat. “No, thank you. I’m sure I’ll have ample opportunity at another time.”

  On the heels of this conversation, Joann sauntered into the room. She wore an evening gown as though they were going to a ball instead of enjoying Sunday dinner together. The smile she plastered on her face was fake, and she had a twinkle in her eye that led Mason to believe she’d won some sort of battle, or at least round one.

  “Jenna. So glad you could find time to join us this evening.” She lifted her gaze to Mason. “I know nothing about you, young man, but I like you simply for being able to accomplish what none of us has been able to achieve for two years.”

  Two years? Holy shit. This was worse than he thought. Who were these people?

  Jenna stiffened under his hand.

  “Shall we move to the dining room? Dinner is ready.” Joann turned and fled as quickly as she’d entered, clearly expecting everyone to jump and follow, which they did.

  All but Mason and Jenna, at least. Jenna seemed rooted to the seat. She heaved for a breath as the others shuffled from the room.

  Mason wanted to make the most of the situation. Whatever had everyone’s panties in a wad couldn’t be all that bad. Mason kneeled beside Jenna and looked her in the eye. “You okay?” When she didn’t respond, he continued. “It’s just dinner.”

  She raised her gaze and narrowed it on him, her chest rising with each breath. “There’s no such thing as ‘just dinner’ with my family.” She rose and took his hand to lead him from the room.

  When they reached the dining room, Mason tried not to react outwardly to the opulence. The table was set as though the Queen of England were a guest tonight. Mason glanced around and quickly surmised no one was in attendance but the four family members and himself. Seemed overboard. What on earth kind of money did these people have? And why hadn’t Jenna mentioned it to him before now?

  Jenna’s mothe
r directed everyone where to sit, and Mason was somewhat surprised to find he’d been granted a chair next to Jenna. Her mother was controlling. She could have seated him in some servants’ quarters and not batted an eye.

  No one seemed interested in Mason. He’d been prepared for the third degree, figuring he would be answering hundreds of questions about himself and their relationship. Instead, Joann’s attention was directed solely at Jenna as though Mason weren’t in the room.

  As a servant entered, complete with stereotypical black-and-white clothing, Joann set her sights on Jenna. “Are you done playing shop yet, dear?”

  Mason stiffened. Playing shop? Was she referring to Ribbons and Bows?

  “No, Mother. I’m not playing anything. This is my life. I work for a living. I own Ribbons and Bows. And it’s doing very well, thank you for asking.”

  The woman most assuredly hadn’t asked anything of the sort. Mason fisted his hands under the table, hoping he was misreading this situation, while trying to keep his face neutral.

  The silent woman in black and white set a plate of salad in front of each person at the table, cautiously ensuring she didn’t make a noise and wasn’t disruptive. Mason watched her for a moment, wondering if she endured the same sternness on a daily basis Jenna was experiencing now.

  Joann reached for her glass and handed it to her husband, who filled it with chardonnay.

  The woman took a drink and then set the glass down. “We need you home by the holidays, dear. That gives you less than a month to continue this farce. Am I clear?”

  Jenna didn’t raise her voice, hesitate, or in any way flinch. “You’re always clear, Mother, but I’m not coming home.”

  “Young lady, enough is enough. We have covered for your absence for two years. Our friends and relatives are growing suspicious of your disappearance. You will be home by Christmas.”

  “Mother, if this is the only reason you’ve asked me to come for Sunday dinner, then Mason and I will leave now. If you’d like to enjoy my company and engage in any other conversation, I’ll be happy to oblige. However, I won’t sit here for three hours of a six course meal and argue with you about how I lead my life.”