His Muse - Isabella Starling

HIS MUSE A Dark Alpha Bad Boy Romance

ISABELLA STARLING

Contents 1.

Prologue - Mason

2. Cara 3. Mason 4. Cara 5. Mason 6. Cara 7. Mason 8. Cara 9. Mason 10. Cara 11. Mason 12. Mason 13. Cara 14. Cara 15. Mason 16. Cara 17. Cara 18. Mason 19. Cara 20. Cara 21. Mason 22. Epilogue - Cara Acknowledgments

Copyright © 2017 by Isabella Starling All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. SUBSCRIBE to my newsletter and receive 2 FREE NOVELS

VISIT me on Facebook JOIN my readers’ group on Facebook Check out my other books! Dark Blood Savage Big Bad Wolf His Brat

His Doll

Dedication

For T, who came up with the idea for this book. Love you, forever. This book is also dedicated to Hayfaah S., my favorite lady & the best inspirationsending-butt-kicking-sweetheart reader I could wish for. Thank you for all you do, my darling… I hope Mason lives up to your expectations. ;)

-I.

ONE

Prologue - Mason

her sleep on the flight back, fighting the urge to stroke my cock the I watch whole way home. Cara sleeps with her lips slightly parted, her head lolling to the side. She's a nonetoo-gracious heap in the plush leather seat, and yet, she's the most stunning thing I've seen in my life. The flight is long. Too fucking long for me not to sleep. But even so, I'm too worried to so much as wink after everything that has happened. I just want to make sure we get back home alright. I need to know we're finally safe from all the shit that's happened this summer. When we land, my driver, Filippe, is waiting for us with the car. I don't let him touch Cara. I gather her in my arms and carry her into the car. She hugs me, her arms wrapping around my neck as she presses her lithe body closer to mine. I don't even try to untangle her from myself. I place her on my lap and look at her pretty features for the next two hours, the length of the drive home from the airport. I know I'm going to have to keep some distance at first. I've gotten too close to her, too deep inside her head. I'm fucking with her mind now, and I don't want to damage her permanently. I need to take a step back, reassess. I need to give her some time to become whole again. I can't risk losing her - not again. Once we're back at the mansion, I dismiss Filippe quite roughly. He doesn't say a word as I carry Cara into the room she's spent her summer in, gently tucking her under the covers. She finally stirs as I'm about to leave the room, and she pulls on the collar of my shirt helplessly. "Please don't go," she mewls. "Just stay in bed with me." Words she's said so many times before, and yet, I can't make her wish come true tonight. She needs some time alone. She needs to learn how to survive without me. I shake my head no and her lashes flutter closed. She's too tired, anyway. She

probably won't even remember this come morning. I leave her safely tucked into the bed and close the door to her bedroom quietly. I'm about to leave when I remember something, and, as an afterthought, I turn the lock on her door. I have every intention of heading to bed myself. But I'm a sick fucking bastard and I can't resist the voyeur in me. I head to the room next to hers, the one that requires a keycard to get into. I sit in front of the large window into Cara's room, disguised as a mirror on her side of the wall. I pull out a pack of cigarettes from my trousers. I'm not a smoker. Never have been, never will be. But the events of the past few months have shaken me up so much I'm dying for something to distract myself with. I light the cigarette and inhale, filling my lungs with poison. I watch her sleep as I smoke the thing down to a nub, just as she starts stirring in her big bed. I watch Cara get up, throwing the covers off her. Her eyes are big and manic, her hair messy as fuck. She shouts my name, loud and clear. She'd get spanked for that any other day. I like it when she calls me Sir. She tries the door as I watch, shaking and rattling the knob and then snarling furiously once she realizes she's locked inside the room. My heart fucking aches seeing her like this, but I'm so fucking worried her father was right. Maybe I am a bad fucking influence. Maybe I am the last thing she needs. It may not seem like it, but maybe I am keeping her here against her will. No matter what Cara says. Daddy knows best, after all. Cara keeps screaming, my name on her lips, anger in her fists. Finally, she comes to stand in front of the full-length window, or what she knows as the ornate mirror in her bedroom. She stares at her pretty reflection, not knowing she's looking into my eyes. She starts sobbing. Deep, heaving sobs wrack her body and she hiccups, wiping at her eyes angrily and smearing black mascara and eyeliner everywhere. She's a fucking mess, and I've never wanted her more. She looks at her reflection again, her finger going to the mirror and outlining a heart. Without meaning to, I reach for the glass myself, following her motions. But when my hand falls back into my lap, her fist smashes the mirror. The sound of glass shattering blasts my eardrums and I just stare in front of myself as the last shreds of my disguise fall down. The glass that was separating us clatters to the floor and Cara's lips part in a surprised O as she realizes the mirror was

merely a decoy. We're face to face now, mere inches apart. Her dress is rumpled. I know for a fact she's not wearing panties, because I took them off on the plane and stuffed them in my pocket. "Cara," I say roughly, and she whimpers. "Sweet fucking girl, what have you done?" She's crying as she rushes into my arms. Our bodies meet with full force, crashing into one another as I gather her into my arms and carry her through the new hole in the wall and towards her bed. I lay her down gently and she squirms under my touch. I kiss her bloody knuckles, smearing the blood all over my lips, and yet I don't give a shit. I reach for her and her body bends to my will. Always so submissive. Always so fucking irresistible. "Fuck me," she begs, her voice desperate. "I've waited so long, Mason. You have to." She takes my hand and guides it under her dress, over the globes of her ass and onto the small of her back. I groan loudly, knowing I won't be able to resist for much longer. "Don't make me," I say. "You need time to rest. You need to decide if this is really what you fucking want, Cara." She laughs, a bittersweet sound. "That was never a question," she tells me softly. And then she pulls me down, and suddenly my body's flush against hers and all my reservations go through the fucking window. Because this is Cara fucking Newton, the girl I've been in love with since she was sixteen years old. The girl I waited for so patiently, the girl I fought to make mine. The girl that came to me freely, the girl that submitted with the click of my fingers. My perfect muse. My mouth descends upon hers and she kisses me desperately, hungrily. Her lips mould to mine and she pulls me closer, her body arching off the bed to fit into the contours of mine. We kiss deeply, roughly. It's rushed, it's needy, it's so fucking sweet. "Show me I'm yours," Cara whispers. "Make love to me, Mason." "I don't know how," I tell her roughly. "You do," she coos, guiding my hands to pull her dress off her body. She's naked underneath. "You do know, Mason. Just... show me. Show me how beautiful it can be."

I don't make love. I only know how to fuck. But damn it if this girl doesn't make me want to learn to be better. I wrap an arm around her waist, pushing her up on the bed and climbing on top of her. She's moaning already, her hurt knuckles smearing red all over the pristine white sheets. Neither of us cares. "One last thing," she reminds me. "One last thing," I promise. She smiles then, pretty and seductive and ready to be broken. God, I can't wait to do it. To finally have her in pieces again, at my mercy. To watch her put herself back together in my arms. To see that look of pure bliss on her pretty little face. It's different this time. And I'll be damned if this isn't love. She gets up on all fours and I stand in front of the bed as she crawls closer. She unzips my trousers, gets my cock out. I'll never get tired of the marvel in her eyes at its size. The way her lips wrap perfectly around the tip. The way she tries so desperately to fit my whole shaft inside her tiny mouth, choking every time. "Make it wet," I tell her. "Really fucking wet, Cara, or it's just going to hurt even more." She looks up at me, her eyes wide and trusting. I groan at the sight of those baby blues. So pure and so damn perfect. She swirls her tongue against the tip of my cock, sucking me deeper, working my cock so good I have to brace myself on her shoulders. The urge to fuck her face takes over, and I start thrusting into her mouth. My hand tangles in her hair and I make her look up at me as I slide my cock between her lips. "Good girl," I praise her softly. "Such a good girl. Open wider, baby." She does, and I get lost in the moment, her mouth feels so good against my sensitive skin. I barely notice her choking, trying to take a deep breath and instead having her mouth filled with my cock all the way inside. My eyes must be glazed over as hell as I finally pull out from between her lips, long strings of her spit connecting my cock to her mouth. I groan, and something primal takes over me. I grab her waist and flip her around. Push her head down on the bed, her begging and low moans only making me want her more. She sticks her ass up in the air, wiggling that pretty bubble butt at me and begging me to fucking take it. So I do.

I press a finger to her virgin asshole first, and she squirms under my touch. Her puckered little hole is insanely tight and it feels so dirty to be doing this, so wrong to be taking advantage of her, it almost makes me stop. "Please, Sir," she says, her voice muffled from the way she's biting into the duvet. "Please let me show you what a good little anal slut I can be." "Fuck." The word rolls off my lips just as my finger slips inside her. Cara mewls and grinds her hips against my hand, sweet gasps leaving her pouty mouth. "I... Oh my god," she keeps saying over and over again, interrupted by little moans and deep breaths. Her body's arching, not sure if it wants to get away or impale itself harder on my cock. I pull my finger out. I'm so fucking horny I can barely see five inches in front of myself. I place my wet, slippery cock on her ass and try to explain to her she needs to relax or it'll hurt like hell. But she doesn't listen. Cara never does. She moans and with a push of her hips, she impales her virgin asshole on my cock, cursing out loud and making me grip her ass tightly as I claim her last hole. I've already had her mouth, I've already had her pussy. Her ass is mine now, too. "You shouldn't have done that, Cara," I tell her roughly, but she's so far gone she can only moan, beg and moan as she keeps perfectly still, the tip of my cock inside her sweet ass. "I'm not gonna be able to stop now, sweetheart." "Don't," she chokes out. "Don't fucking stop, please." I groan and shift my hips a little, my cock penetrating her more and more. She's gasping, just gasping for air like she's taking her last breath. And it's too much. I can't stop, I really can't now. I brace my hands against her ass and I push deeper inside her. All the way. She's sobbing. Deep, heavy sobs shaking her body as she begs for more. "Please, Sir," she whispers. "More, please. Don't stop. Don't you dare fucking stop. Deeper. I want more." She's making me go fucking insane, but I obey, for once listening to her. I start fucking her ass and she cries out, my name always on her lips, my cock buried inside her ass. Cara starts grinding her hips, long sensual moans escaping her hips as I fuck her slowly, sensually. I've never had sex like this before. It's always angry, fast, hard. This is completely new. And yet she still submits, her sweet body bending to my will.

She puts her hands behind her back, and I grab her wrists with one hand while the other gathers her hair and pulls on it, hard. She begs for more. "You're gonna cum for me," I order her, the words alone sending her into a frenzy. "You're going to fucking cum with my cock inside that tight little ass, sweetheart." "Please," she breathes. "Don't stop. Don't fucking stop." I push deeper and shiver. She's shaking, just like me. It's almost too much. Almost there. Almost at her delicious breaking point. I keep fucking her. Rougher. Harder. Faster, like she begs me to. I hit a spot inside her then, something that makes her go wild. She comes suddenly, with a loud fucking scream tearing through the room. She pants and bucks her hips like a wild animal. I can't even control her, and I can't control my own orgasm as it rips through my body. I empty my balls inside her ass, with Cara grinding it all over my groin, smearing my cum everywhere. She's moaning loudly, and it makes me wish I could treasure this moment forever. With that, I remember the cameras scattered through the room, and I grin to myself. Sweet, barely legal Cara Newton coming on Daddy's friend's cock deep inside her asshole. What a fucking sight. And now captured on film for my pleasure. I lean over to her as my cock leaks the last drop of cum inside her tight ass. "Thank you, sweetheart," I whisper in hear ear. "You were the perfect little slut." She pants as I get on the bed with her, pulling her on top of me and settling her against my chest. She nuzzles closer, her fingers running through the dark hair on my chest. My finger traces her spine, down her back and to her ass. My cum's dripping out of her tight little hole, and it bothers me. I get up from the bed. "Don't go," Cara begs me, and I grin at her. "Don't move." I walk to the chest in front of her bed and dig inside it. Once I find what I'm looking for, I tell her to close her eyes, and she does as she's told like a good girl. I walk back to her and put her on all fours again. She whimpers, needy for more. With a simple push, I plug her ass with a pretty jewel and she gasps so loudly she almost loses her voice. "Good girl," I mutter into the shell of her ear. "I want my cum to stay in your ass all night, sweetheart. Keep you full until I want you again."

She looks up at me through hazy, adoring eyes, and I finally realize I'm fucked. This must be love.

TWO

Cara

"D addy!"

I run to the staircase and glare down at my father. He glances up and his eyes light up when he sees me, but my expression is furious where his is loving. He motions to be excused from his conversation, and rushes up the stairs to talk to me. "What is it, darling?" he asks me, and I pout, crossing my arms in front of my body. My eyes are shooting daggers at him and I have zero patience right now. My party started thirty minutes ago, and there's a missing sequin on my dress! I can't, and won't, walk down the stairs in a ruined dress. Everyone would make fun of me. "My dress is ruined," I announce to my father, and his expression darkens. "The beads on it... There are some missing, and it looks terrible. There's no way I can wear it." Daddy's face lights up with a smile and he kisses my forehead gently. "I'm so sorry, Cara. It happens. But daddy thought of everything. Come with me for a second?" I follow him doubtfully, my heels clicking on the floor. I don't care if I ruin the expensive wood. It's my eighteenth birthday, and I should be allowed to do anything I fucking want. Dad and I walk into the closet and he pulls out a huge cardboard box. I see an expensive brand name printed on the box, and my eyes light up excitedly as I pull it from my father's hands. "What's this?" I ask him. "Another present? Oh, you spoil me, daddy." "It's the dress you wanted," he tells me as I tear through the wrapping paper. "I know I shouldn't have, but... I knew how much you loved this one." I shriek once I get through the wrapping paper, and clutch the beautiful dress to my chest. "Daddy! It's so pretty," I exclaim, my eyes sparkling with happiness. I knew he'd get me the dress. When we went shopping a few weeks ago, he refused to get it for me because of the hefty price tag, but I sulked so much I knew I'd won him over.

Now, I embrace him in a tight hug and he holds me close to his heart. However much of a spoiled brat I might be, I do love my father. I also know exactly how to play my cards to get him to give me what I want. And there's one present I want even more than this dress... And I'm sure I'm going to get it tonight. My eyes shine as we break apart and daddy gives me a happy smile. "I'll go change and be right down," I promise him. "Thank you again. I really love it." "I know you do, darling," dad says with a sigh, and I turn on my heels and rush towards my room to get changed into the dress I'd wanted all along. I put the dress on my beautiful four-poster bed, and quickly check my computer before I start taking my clothes off. And sure enough, I have a message from him... Happy birthday, cara mia. You're going to make every man's mouth water at that party. Have fun. I quickly type back a reply, my fingers shaking. We both know how important this birthday is. I've finally turned eighteen and if everything goes according to plan... tonight I'm going to get the most important gift of all. Thank you! I'll think of you the whole time. Let you know when I know more :) x I hit reply and turn back towards my bed with an exasperated smile. I strip off my clothes quickly until I'm only wearing nude, lacy lingerie, and then I pull the dress on. It's a pretty pink thing with a full, short skirt and a sweetheart neckline. Perfect for daddy's little girl, and I know I still look like his sweetheart in it. See, I played my cards just right. Of course, I prefer the other dress, the beaded one. It is sexy, tight and revealing whereas the pink one is sweet and understated. But I knew my father had to believe I was still his innocent baby, if I wanted to get the present I really wanted. And I think I managed to fool him. I check myself out in the mirror. My blue eyes are wide and rimmed with thick, dark lashes. My hair is falling down my back in pretty blonde curls, and my body looks tiny in the dress. I look younger than I am, but tonight, that's what I'm going for. I walk down the stairs and give a sign to our maid. She turns the lights down and everyone in the foyer gasps as I make my way downstairs. I know I look beautiful, and I grin with the pleasure of everyone's eyes on me as I finally arrive downstairs. People rush to greet me, and I feel my father's proud eyes on me as I mingle and chat with everyone who came here today to celebrate my eighteenth birthday. I play the good girl, declining the flute of champagne my father decided I could

have today, and being as sweet and innocent as I can possibly manage. Several times throughout the evening, I catch daddy's approving eyes on mine and I beam with pride when I do. I know this night is important for him as well, with his new boss here and dad wanting to make an impression. If all goes according to plan, there's a big fat promotion for him too, as his boss loves seeing a family man in action. There's just the two of us now - daddy and me. Since mom passed away when I was only seven, he never remarried or even dated another woman, and I am grateful for that. I couldn't bear to see him with anyone else. I know how much he loved my mom, and so did I, even though her memory is fading daily. The evening passes quickly, and I'm the center of so much attention I can't stop smiling. Finally, my father clinks on his glass and we all turn to face him for the announcement he's about to make. My fingers shake and I dig them into the fabric of my dress when he speaks up. "Friends, family. Thank you for celebrating my dear Cara's eighteenth birthday with us," he says with a smile in my direction. "Cara is the light of my life, and she makes every battle, every fight, worth it. I love you, darling." I blink away the tears in my eyes and clap along with everyone else. I mouth the words 'I love you' to him and my dad smiles. But I am anxious... I need to know if I'm getting the gift I want so very badly. "Cara asked for one thing only," my father continues, and my heartbeat quickens. "She wants to go to Italy this summer, spend some time getting to know the Italian art and architecture before she starts studying Art History in the fall." Everyone claps again and I look down with feigned innocence, even though my heart is pounding so hard I'm sure I'm about to pass out. "So, of course I couldn't deny my darling's biggest wish," dad smiles, and I let my face break into a smile. It's really happening! He's going to do it, he's going to let me leave! "I've arranged for you, darling Cara, to stay with a good friend in Italy," he tells me proudly, and my smile freezes in place. "He's an artist himself, and he will make sure you're taken care of and don't get into any trouble. You're leaving for his estate in Tuscany in a week!" I just stare at him, unable to believe his words. Be careful what you wish for... I do my best to clap along with everyone else, but my heart is breaking. I didn't want this. I wanted to get away, not go from one prison to the next. And I can't hide my broken heart any longer.

I break away from the crowd as soon as I can, and run out into our expansive gardens behind the house. I hide between the hydrangea bushes, my favorites, and pull out my phone. I quickly send a text, my fingers shaking as they hit the screen. I'm going to Italy. Some old guy's mansion, my dad's friend. He wants me to stay there all summer. I lean back against a tree trunk and wait for the reply, blinking back tears. I can't believe this is happening. I tried so hard to be able to go to Italy. To see him... Luca. The man I fell in love with... The man whose face I've never seen, but I've touched myself to his words too many times to count, made my tight virgin pussy cum over and over again. The man I'm falling in love with... The man I wanted to go to Italy for. And now it's all over, because dad's making me stay with that old friend of his and I'll have no freedom there, I'm sure. I'm going to be a pretty bird in a golden cage, just like I am here at home. My phone beeps with a reply and I look down through cloudy eyes. We'll find a way, cara mia. I need to see you. I type a reply. I'm crying. He pings back a moment later. Good, I like that. I blush and raise my phone in front of my face, snapping a quick picture and sending it to him. Next thing I know, my father approaches from behind the corner with a worried expression on his face. "Darling, you alright?" he asks me with concern, and I can tell he's really worried. "I guess," I say softly. "I just... I'm not sure I like the idea of staying with a friend of yours, dad." "It's okay," he nods. "I understand. I told Mason to go easy on you, darling. Don't worry, you'll still have some time for yourself." I sniffle and my phone pings, but I stuff it deeper into my purse so dad won't notice. "Do I know him?" I ask softly, and dad looks at me thoughtfully. "I'm not sure," he admits. "Last time he was here was two years ago. Not sure you remember him, dear, but he'll take good care of you." "And I'll have my privacy?" I ask.

"Yes," dad nods. "He has a big estate. You'll have your own quarters, I made sure of it. It'll be grand, darling. The best way to be introduced to Italian art." "Alright," I say softly, and let him hold me. "Come on, let's head back inside. It's after midnight - you should get some rest." I don't even protest because I'm really tired, and I want to get back to my messages and Luca. I say goodbye to our guests moodily and head to my bedroom. The maid has made my bed and cleaned the room, but I toss the expensive dress on the floor nonetheless and climb between the sheets with a sigh. I pull out my phone and check my messages again. My eyes light up when I read Luca's. So pretty when you cry, cara mia. I'm going to break you so good. How good? I reply, needing to be comforted. To pieces. Put me back together, too? Yes. Only to break you again. I smile sleepily to myself as I write a last reply. Goodnight, Luca. I'll talk to you in the morning. I can barely keep my eyes open, but I'm glad I did once I get his reply. Sweet dreams, cara mia. And don't worry. When you come to Italy, I'm going to fucking steal you and make you my pretty toy. I fall into a fitful sleep, and my dreams are filled with Luca's faceless image.

THREE

Mason

he is coming. My sweet little girl, cara mia, is on her way to Tuscany right now S and set to arrive any minute. I’ve made arrangements with her father; I’ve sent a driver to pick her up from the airport. I don’t trust myself to be around her yet. I need every second I have left on my own to remind myself I need to go slow. Ease her into it. Break her slowly, piece by piece, until Cara submits to me completely.

I down my whiskey in one go and set the glass down on the marble countertop. The sound echoes in the spacious kitchen, and I run a hand through my dark hair as I wait. My cock is already straining against my pajama trousers, hard as a fucking rock with the mere thought of her. I remember her as if it was only a day ago that I’d seen her. An image flashes through my mind. Cara Newton, a vision in a white dress with a halo of flowers around her head. The heady scent of orange blossoms assaults my nose as I come closer, her innocent eyes slowly climbing up, up, up, until they reach mine. I am so much taller, so much bigger. She’s a tiny thing compared to me, a tiny fucking thing I want to own so badly it makes my chest ache. A noise interrupts my thoughts and I grin to myself as I hear my driver pull up in front of the house. More noise follows and I hear voices, but they are too muffled to differentiate between their owners. I look through the French doors leading out into my lavish garden as the voices come closer and closer. I hear footsteps hitting the ground and I turn around, readying myself for the sight I am about to witness. Truth be told, nothing could prepare me for the vision in front of me. She is beautiful, lovelier even than I remember from the first time I saw her. Another flashback. Cara Newton, the daughter of my best friend from work, back when I was still working in the States. She is sweetness and innocence wrapped into a feisty little package even at the ripe age of sixteen. She is stunning, she is delicious, and she is so fucking forbidden it makes my damn mouth water. “Hello,” I say easily, my voice low and throaty as she raises her eyes to mine, just

like at her sixteenth birthday party. “I’m glad you’re here, Cara.” Her eyes go wide as she drinks me in. I see a flicker of recognition in her gaze. She knows who I am. It shouldn’t have an effect on me, but it does. My dick strains painfully against my thigh and Cara’s mouth opens in a soft gasp as she comes towards me. “Signorina Newton, this is Mr. Mason Scott,” my driver, Filippe, introduces us. His voice seems a little embarrassed since I’m not dressed properly for the meeting, but I’m sure the man’s seen worse from me. I’m not exactly known for my propriety. “Mr. Scott, this is Cara Newton.” “We’ve met before,” she says softly, and I grin as I approach her. Her eyes drink me in, all six foot five of me towering above her like a fucking giant. She extends a hand for me to shake and I kiss the back of it, smirking at her. She’s openly staring, her eyes resting on my toned abs and rock hard chest. If she notices the hardness of my cock, she doesn’t say a word, but a light blush colors her pretty cheeks in a shade of rosy red. “Do you remember?” she asks me sweetly. “It must’ve been… Two years ago now. At my sixteenth birthday party?” The sound of live music. The oppressing heat of the late summer day, making me sweat underneath my custom-tailored Armani suit. Her, tripping into my arms. Those eyes, fearfully meeting mine as if she’s afraid of me doling out punishment for what she’s done and craving it at the same time. The way she licks her lips when our eyes meet. No words are exchanged, she doesn’t know who I am, she probably never even finds out my name. But I make it my business to get to know everything about her before I leave her sweet sixteenth. I’m in town on business, and her father, an old colleague of mine, invites me over after years and years of not hearing from one another. I don’t stay long – I can’t, not with my flight leaving in a few hours – but it is enough to memorize the contours of Cara’s beautiful face. Enough to decide she has to be mine. I bide my time carefully. When she fell into my arms, the girl was merely sixteen. It wouldn’t feel fucking right. It still doesn’t, in more ways than one. But what can I say… I like beautiful things, and the moment I saw Cara Newton, I knew I had to add her to my collection. “Vaguely,” I reply with a smirk, and her whole face falls when she thinks I don’t remember her. I love it, love how addicted she is to attention. My eyes go over her petite body lazily, seeing all the changes two years have made to my girl. She isn’t taller at all, but her curves are those of a grown woman now. Her tits are small and pert, and her waist is abnormally tiny in the sweet summer dress she’s wearing. I

want to rip it off her, now that I finally can. In fact, my hands form fists at my sides so I don’t do it right there on the spot. I want her already. I don’t want to fucking wait. Patience was never a virtue of mine, and seeing beautiful Cara in front of me makes me want to ravage her. “Filippe will show you to your room,” I tell her easily. “I’d like to meet you downstairs in an hour so we can get to know each other properly. I’m sure you’re tired from your long journey.” She nods, and has trouble leaving. I can already tell she feels it too, the fucking pull towards me which makes it impossible to stay away. I felt it for the first time at her birthday party, and I pulled all the fucking right strings to get her in my arms this summer. And now all that’s left to do is turn Cara into a woman. Filippe leads her away and I’m wildly jealous of his hand on the small of her back, even though my driver has had a boyfriend for the past thirty years. Still, I want it to be my hand, guiding her into a room on my property. I head into my study. I lock the door behind me and strip my pajama trousers before sitting down at my desk and turning my computer on. The monitor flickers to life and my pupils dilate as I see her. Filippe’s showing her into her room, the camera showing me her beautiful image. She doesn’t know it’s there, and there’s no way she’ll find the camera hidden in the ceiling of her room. I grin to myself once my driver leaves her, my hand going to my cock and slowly stroking the length of it as Cara twirls around her new room. She’s still blushing, and her lips part in a sigh as she opens the French doors leading out to the balcony. She looks at the stunning view, but merely for a few seconds. Then, she comes towards the white dressing table and looks into the full-length mirror at her perfect image. Another camera switches on, and I’m right there, behind the mirror, looking at the girl I’ve wanted to own for two years. The girl I am so obsessed with, I orchestrated everything, from her daddy’s approval, to a whole fake personality, just so I could fucking have her. I’m a sick fuck, and I never denied it. But from the moment I had Cara in my hands, I knew she craved this domination as badly as I did. And now it’s finally time. The strap of her dress falls down her shoulder and she tugs on it impatiently. A low groan escapes my throat and I stroke my dick harder, long motions threatening to make me come undone any second now. Having her this close to me, only a few hallways away, is fucking with my head. She’s all I’ve thought about for the past two years. Her mouth the only thing I’ve wanted, her sweet little pussy the one I’ve been waiting for my entire life. And as she slips her dress off her body, I can’t fucking help it. I stroke my cock harder, watching her move in front of the mirror,

appraising her perfect image with critical eyes. She pulls the dress down and reveals a pretty, lacy pink bra to my eyes. I cup my balls, heavy with the release I’ve been building up for her for such a long fucking time. “Cara,” I groan to myself. “Jesus fucking Christ.” She’s already giving me a show, and she’s been here for mere minutes. I’m more than pleased with myself for installing the hidden cameras. The dress slips down her hips and pools at her feet, and she steps out of it slowly while I stare at her beautiful image. Her body is tiny, and she’s very frail, almost fragile looking. I think of all the fucking ways I want to hurt her and I can’t stop myself any longer. Thick, long ropes of cum spurt from my cock, landing on my desk as I groan her name and relieve myself of the tension I’ve felt for two damn years. I keep staring at her, slowly jerking my cock that refuses to soften. On my computer screen, Cara reaches for her bra strap and slowly pulls it down. I’m moments away from seeing her tits, and I turn my back to the monitor, getting up from my chair, naked as I am. I don’t want to steal this moment from her, like I did the others. I want her to give it to me willingly, just like she will her virgin pink pussy, her tight little ass and her sweet mouth. I know no one’s had them yet. I made damn fucking sure about that. No one touches my sweet doll until she’s ready to play with me. There’s an ensuite bathroom adjoined to my study and bedroom, and I head inside there now to wash my spendings from my body. The water running from the shower is cool, almost icy, and I like it that way. I already know I’m going to have trouble keeping my hands off Cara, and I need to get rid of as many stimuli as humanly possible. My cock grows impossibly hard in the shower again, the mere thought of Cara only a few hallways away fucking with my head so fucking much I nearly burst all over the expensive marble tiles again. I restrain myself, and I come out of the shower with my head much fucking clearer. I look at myself in the mirror, giving my image a critical stare as the steam fogs up my view. I’m older than her, not by a scandalous amount, but enough to raise some brows. A thirty-two-year-old man with an eighteen-year-old virgin would definitely cause some uproar in her part of the world. But I’m handsome, probably more so now than ever. My features are chiseled, stubble covering my chin and the bottom part of my face. My eyes are a dark brown and my hair is almost black. I look like fucking sin in a suit, and like a dream when it’s off, and I like to use it to my advantage.

My gaze falls lower, to my body. I’ve worked hard to keep myself in shape, and that’s one thing about me that’s never gonna change. My chest and stomach are covered in a thin layer of hair, dark and soft and so fucking different to those pansy-ass boys Cara must be used to. I’ve heard the term ‘real man’ thrown around, and I know I would be considered. Not just because of my looks, but because I care about the woman I’m with. And when it comes to Cara… I’m gonna show her what a real man looks like. And fucks like. I exit the bathroom, toweling off with an expensive Egyptian cotton blend, when I see my phone vibrating on the bed. I reach for it, and my eyes light up as I see an incoming text from a number I’ve memorized by now. I’m here! I quickly type a reply. That’s good. Met the man of the house yet? I wish I were still in my study to see her excited face as she types a reply. Yeah. He seems ok. Handsome? Several minutes pass as I wait for her reply, and I towel dry my hair and get dressed in one of my immaculate suits. When I’m almost out the door for my meeting with Cara, my phone vibrates again and I laugh at her reply. No. He’s old and boring. You’ve got nothing to worry about. What a sweet little liar, I think to myself. Cara still thinks I’m Luca, her little Italian boyfriend she’s so excited to meet here. And the sadistic bastard in me can’t fucking wait to tell her Luca and I are the same fucking person.

FOUR

Cara

stop thinking about the man who greeted me in the kitchen. Could he I can't really be my father's old friend? He looks so much younger than him, and so

very different. I feel almost guilty for my intense reaction to seeing him, but truth be told, I couldn't help it. As soon as I laid eyes on the man, my body went into sensory overload, my head pounding with his sheer force and masculinity, the way he held himself, the way he kissed my hand to greet me. I should be having second thoughts about lying to Luca about him, but I can't bring myself to do it. It feels deliciously forbidden to have this secret, and I've always been a bit of a brat. Once I'm shown to my room by the man's assistant, I make myself comfortable. I'm still sulking about the fact that I have to spend my summer with a man I barely know, though him being ridiculously handsome is easing me into it a little. I slip out of my dress and take a long shower, letting the cool water wash away the traces of my long journey and the hot Italian summer. I haven't really had a chance to see much, since I was practically falling asleep on the ride here, but now I'm too excited to go to bed, even though exhaustion was threatening to pull me under only half an hour earlier. I get dressed again, this time in a sweet pink dress and sandals, and do my hair up, adorning it with pearly barrettes. I've always liked to dress this way - very feminine and pretty. It gives my father the impression that I'm still his little girl, and it makes me look less suspicious when I decide to play my favorite games and tricks on him. It takes me about an hour to get ready, and I'm a few minutes late for meeting Mason downstairs. I'm still undecided if I should really call him that, as it seems a little weird to be addressing my father's friend by his first name. I didn't even know they were very close, though I do recall seeing the man at my sixteenth birthday party. It would be hard to forget that moment... It was perhaps the first time I came in

touch with my own sexuality, standing so close to him and feeling my pussy drip in anticipation as he held me up. He was gone the next second, and I was too embarrassed by my own body's reaction to ever bring up the incident again. But still, it happened, and it made me realize I wanted a man to hold me like that again. You could even say that day was the reason I wanted to find someone like Luca. My mind drifts to the mysterious date I have in Italy, and I wonder when I'll finally get to see him. I'm anxious to meet him and to finally see his face, almost as scared as I am excited. I try to push those thoughts to the back of my mind as I leisurely walk down the intricately carved staircase to the lobby. I see a figure looming before me. He's no longer wearing the simple, but expensive pajama pants he had on before. Now, he's in an expensive, incredibly well-cut suit that hugs his body in the best possible way. Mason turns to face me and I have to take a deep breath to focus on him in front of me. "Hello," I finally manage to get out, my soft voice ringing out in the vast emptiness of the beautiful hall. I was too tired to notice when we walked in, but the whole room - well, the whole house, really - is filled with expensive artwork and furniture. The room itself is like a masterpiece. "You're late," he tells me simply, his voice dark and delicious. I sidestep from one foot to another, giving him a strange look. God, he really is handsome, and my body is trying to do the same thing it did when I first met him at my birthday party. It's as if there's a pull between us, an invisible string he has in his hands to pull me closer. Of course, I don't expect Mason to see me that way. He probably thinks I'm just a dumb kid he's stuck with for the summer. I wonder if he's fucking anyone. My own though takes me by surprise and I find myself blushing lightly as I meet his gaze again. "You said to meet you here in an hour, didn't you?" I ask, feeling a little confused. "I did," he nods. His dark eyes are like pools of something ominous, so clear but dangerous at the same time. "And you're ten minutes late." I laugh nervously, thinking he must surely be joking. Why would he be pissed about me being ten minutes late? He's probably just trying to make a joke. A bad one, because now my body is shaking lightly in anticipation of his next words which never come. "I didn't realize I was on such a strict schedule," I tell him, giggling a little. With a single step, he has my back against the wall. I inhale sharply and it feels like I'll never take another breath again. The last remnants of oxygen in my lungs make my eyes widen and my heartrate pick up. "What are you doing?" I ask him, feeling

panicked as hell. He's not actually touching me. He didn't push me against the wall, I did it myself. When he stepped closer I got scared, and he's not backing away. Several inches separate us, but it feels like he's... inside me. Inside my head, inside my pussy, his long fingers exploring my virgin holes for his own pleasure. It's invasive, it's insane and... it's all in my fucking imagination. "This is my house, Cara," he tells me in a low, threatening voice. "Here, you play by my rules." I exhale quickly, my heart feeling like it's going to burst right out of my chest. "God," I manage to get out. "I didn't know you’d be such a fucking nightmare.” "Language!" His word is practically a slap across my face, and he looks pissed. This time, the crimson streaks coloring my cheeks are more intense. "I don't like a dirty mouth on a girl unless I'm fucking her, and she can't help herself." I stare at him openly, unable to believe the words coming from his mouth. I part my lips in shock, half expecting him to either kiss or slap me, but he does neither. He merely takes a step back and gives me a long, heated look that soon turns into complete disinterest. He reaches down and toys with the cufflinks on his suit while I try to catch my breath. "You'll find I have some rules I like to stick to," he tells me lazily. "You're going to follow them, or you will be punished. Starting with being where I ask you to be on time. Is that clear?" "What is this?" I ask him, feeling enraged. "Some kind of dictatorship? You can't expect me to... follow your directions like a child!" I almost curse on the spot, but his threatening look prevents me from doing so. I can't help but notice how handsome he is again, almost in a way that makes me scared to look at him. His face is so perfectly chiseled, covered with just the right amount of stubble, his lips full, his eyes dark. He's like a fucking god, and I bet he knows it, too. I bet he enjoys having this damn effect on me, which only makes me angrier. "It's not a dictatorship," he says simply. "But it is my fucking house." The fact that he deems it appropriate to curse himself drives me up the wall even more. "I'm not a kid," I spit out angrily, and he chuckles at my words, making me grit my teeth. "Are you a virgin, Cara?" he asks me simply, and my jaw nearly falls to the floor. I just stare and stare at him and he returns a cold and impassive look, waiting for my answer. "Well? Did I fucking stutter?" "I..." I can barely talk and I feel like my cheeks are going to catch on fire any moment now. "I don't see how that's any of your business! I don't even understand

who you think you are to ask me that kind of-" "So that's a yes," he confirms for himself, chuckling to himself. This fucking prick. If he weren't my father's friend, I'd launch myself at him and scratch his eyes out. But as it is, I still need to stay in Italy for the time being to meet Luca. And though I hate to admit it, it would be a damn shame to ruin his ridiculously handsome face. "I had a feeling you were." I don't have the words to reply, but he doesn't seem to care. "I'm heading into town soon," he tells me simply. "You can check out the house and the grounds while I'm gone. Do not go into my study or my bedroom." I bite back the question why, and nod, still feeling enraged as he heads for the door. Once he opens it, I already see his driver waiting for him, and I thank every god I've ever heard of this conversation is finally fucking over. "Oh, and Cara?" I look at him and he throws me a grin over his shoulder. "Be in my office at 8:00 p.m. sharp so we can talk about your punishment for being late." He leaves me standing there with my mouth hanging open and the front door slams shut behind him. There's nothing else for me to do in the hall, and when I've finally calmed down a little, I storm towards the French doors leading out into the gardens. Who the hell does he think he is? He can't fucking boss me around like this, like I'm his damn property. He might think he owns me, but just because daddy agreed to send me here for the summer does not mean I'm going to listen to his every command. Because they're not even wishes - they are full-on commands. And I didn't come here to obey some madman's orders. I open the French doors leading outside and a gust of impossibly hot air hits my skin, a none-so-pleasant change from the lovely air-conditioned interior of the house. Still, I need a breath of fresh air and I'm feeling claustrophobic from standing so close to Mason and his switching personalities. It feels like the man I met a few hours ago in the kitchen is a completely different beast to the one I just saw in the lobby. I stalk out onto the terrace, not even wanting to take a moment to admire my beautiful surroundings. But even though I'm not planning on it, the stunning Italian landscape makes my lips part in a gasp of shock. There are bountiful hydrangea bushes blooming by a big, azure infinity pool, complete with two Jacuzzis. Orange trees lead out into a garden filled with some of the most beautiful plants and wildlife I've seen, and the air is filled with the heady aroma of their flowers. It's so beautiful it literally takes my breath away, and instead of stewing in my anger, I let the beauty of the grounds hit me in full force.

The air is busy with the buzz of bees and insects, cicadas making a loud background noise that will become all too familiar in the coming months, I feel like. The house is truly a mansion, a jewel that fits in beautifully with the perfectly landscaped grounds. I consider taking a dip in the immaculate pool, but in the end, curiosity gets the better of me and I decide to explore the gardens a little bit more. As I walk towards the orange grove, I realize I forgot my phone in the bedroom, and I stop my walk uncertainly, wondering whether I should go and grab it, but changing my mind in the end. I just want to see the rest of the hidden beauty of this place, and I can always talk to Luca later - at least we're in the same time zone now. My walk reveals sight after beautiful sight, and I drink in the beauty of the Italian countryside like I'm hungry for more. It's vastly different from our place back home. The weather is cooler there, and we rarely get days like this. I'm enjoying the warm rays of sunshine on my skin, and I forget to worry about the sunburn I know I'm bound to get it I spend too much time out here. Instead, I inspect every flower in the grove, every bloom of the rose bushes planted on the south side of the house. I check the temperature in the pool - perfect, of course - and explore the impressively carved hedges in the center of the gardens. When I'm almost done with my walk, tired and ready to go back to my room to chat to Luca, I find a curious part of the garden that is walled in with a low brick fence. I can look over it when I stand up, but the door leading inside, a wooden one with a heart-shaped lock, is firmly closed, and I cannot get it to budge. I sneak peeks over the fence, finding the inside of the garden neglected and covered in weeds and shrubbery. It makes me wonder why this part of the garden was forgotten like this, and I do my best to get a good look inside, even though it means climbing up on my tiptoes and reaching for the moss-covered bricks to look inside the madness inside. The hidden garden is where nature reigns supreme, and I can tell there hasn't been a human hand inside the garden for a long, long time. "I'd be careful if I were you," a voice interrupts me, and I shriek in surprise, falling and tripping on a rock as I try to get down from the fence. A pair of strong, tanned arms grab me and I look up into a grinning face. "Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you, signorina." "Well, you did," I manage to get out, getting up and smoothing my now dirtcovered dress. "Who the hell are you anyway?" I quickly regret my rudeness as I get a better look at the guy. He seems to be about my age, maybe a year older. He's quite handsome - not in that ridiculous way Mason is, but a charming one nonetheless. He has dark brown hair and grey eyes, a sharp contrast with his tanned complexion. His nose is crooked and looks like it's been broken several times, but it really only adds to his charm instead of taking away from it. "I'm sorry," he laughs. "I figured we'd be introduced soon. I'm Luca."

FIVE

Mason

y business in town takes longer than I would like, but I don't let it stop me M from getting home on time. I keep my promises, and my word is as good as fucking sacred. If I told Cara to meet me in my study at eight, her ass better be there, because I sure as hell will be.

Throughout my business meeting regarding an acquisition of a new office in the States, I keep thinking about her. The way her cheeks blushed when I came closer, the oh-so-obvious reaction her pretty young body had to mine. It was so fucking obvious she wanted me, but poor cara mia didn't have a fucking clue yet. She was still busy fighting it, pretending like there was nothing there. But I know she'll submit soon enough. The drive back home is excruciatingly long. Living on the outskirts of the city does have its perks, but driving here and back sometimes almost makes me regret having a property so far out of the city. It's why I have an apartment in the city as well, to make sure I have a place to stay whenever I need to spend a night in town due to meetings. We arrive at home thirty minutes before I'm supposed to meet Cara for our little chat, and my mind is already swimming with the possibilities of what I could have her do. I walk upstairs to my study, but on my way there, I notice the French doors leading outside from the hall have been left open. I walk towards them, enjoying the light breeze from outside. Now that it's later in the day, it's cooled down considerably and the air outside isn't as oppressive or hot. I move to close the doors when something catches my eye outside. Cara, talking to him. Shit. I didn't think he'd come back home for a while, I thought I'd at least have a few weeks before he got here. I purse my lips angrily, looking at Luca through the window. I close the door as quietly as I can and try to ignore the budding anger inside me which is threatening

to spill out any moment now. I will not allow Luca to ruin any of my plans, even though his sudden arrival means I'll have to deal with shit I'd rather put off for a while longer. I get so distracted I barely remember the time, but I manage to tear myself from Cara's sinful little giggle as Luca tells her something out in the gardens. I walk upstairs after closing the double doors and dismissing Filippe for the evening. He has his own quarters in the house, where I presume he will spend the rest of the day. My office is pleasantly cool from the air-conditioning as I enter, and I strip off my blazer, enjoying the sensation of undoing the upper button of my starched shirt. I run a hand through my dark hair and pour myself a glass of whiskey before sitting down at my desk again. The time tells me there are ten minutes to go before Cara will be knocking in my door, and I can't resist sneaking a peek at my computer screen on my desk again. The cameras in her room click into life, and my blood instantly boils when I see them. Cara's standing in the middle of her room with him, showing him something with her back to the camera. Luca's hand is resting protectively on the small of her back, making me want to tear his fucking hair out. He hasn't even announced his arrival to me, yet he has already introduced himself to our new houseguest. I could fucking kill him. Especially after being so damn careful and making sure Cara remained untouched for me, just like I wanted her. If the kid thinks he can have his way with her, he'll have to go through me, and I won't go down easily. I'll put up a fight for Cara, and I know I'll take him down. Angrily, I click on the screen to turn on the camera in front of them, above her bed. She's showing him some drawings that I've never seen before. Pencil and white pen on dark paper. They're just sketches, but they're pretty damn good, and I admire them with a critical eye as Cara's finger slides along the lines she's created on the surface. I don't put the sound on, and I can only imagine she's telling Luca about her art. A quick look at the clock on the wall tells me there are two minutes left, and as Cara looks up with a look of horror on her face, I realize she must've just realized the same thing. She puts the sketches on her bed and rushes to say goodbye to Luca, practically pushing him out of her bedroom. He seems none too pleased about that, and I smirk at his offended face. Good. He'd better get used to it, because there's no damn way I'm sharing cara mia with him. The bedroom is suddenly empty, and a moment later, I hear footsteps coming down the hall and there's a light knock on the door of my office. "Come in," I say darkly, and the door creaks open. Cara's eyes sparkle as she walks

inside, smoothing down the dress she wore earlier when we met up in the lobby. She's beautiful like this, a little disheveled, but so stunning nevertheless. Her hair is escaping the bun she put it in, and her hands shake as she sits down in the chair in front of my desk that I've pointed out for her. "Hello," she gets out in a small voice. Her eyes aren't quite meeting mine, but she looks up curiously several times as I get up from my chair and perch on my desk. "I see you've learned your lesson," I tell her with a chuckle. Her eyes follow mine to the wall where the clock has just ticked its way to 8:00 p.m. sharp. "I'm happy to see you're a fast learner, Cara. I'm not a very patient man." Unless it comes to you, I add in my mind. But even now, my patience is wearing really fucking thin and my whole body aches with the need to get my hands on her. I need to wait, though, ease her into this. There's no way she'll submit without being prepared properly. "I'm glad you think so," she adds in a small voice. She finally looks up at me, and her eyes are full of apologies and a very deep need for me to forgive for. I live for that, the sheer desperation she feels and the need for me to say it's all okay. It's going to come in very useful later on. "I really didn't mean to disappoint you earlier, M- Mr. Scott." "You can call me Mason," I tell her, and she nods, though I can tell she's having a bit of trouble with the informality. "I know you didn't, Cara. I don't have very many rules, but those that I do, I expect you to follow. Is that clear?" She nods quickly, and I smile. I don't tell her I knew she'd be late. I don't tell her I invented the ridiculous rule just so I could fucking punish her. She's a smart girl, she can put two and two together by herself. "Have you had a look at the grounds?" I ask her, and she nods. "What did you think?" "Oh, it's beautiful here," she tells me, her voice full of impressions from our beautiful surroundings. I'm not very humble, but even if I were, I'd have to admit my home is stunning. "I love the little orange grove, the pool... And the other parts, too." I can see an unspoken question in her eyes, but I don't press her for information. It's cute that she thinks she can hide shit from me. I'm going to find out eventually, anyway. "I'm glad," I tell her with a warm smile. "I also met-" she starts up, and I cut into her words before she can go on. Fucking

hell, I didn't call her in here to fucking listen to her rant on about Luca. "Your punishment still needs to be taken care of," I tell her simply. A light blush develops on her cheeks and she giggles nervously. "Oh, I thought..." "Thought I was kidding?" I ask her gently, then shake my head. "Sadly, no. I believe rules are meant to be followed. Mine aren't too strict, as you'll come to find out." A lie, but she needn't know that. "If you obey me, everything will turn out alright." "Okay," she says uncertainly. "So, what is my punishment, then?" I get up from my desk and sit back down in my chair after admiring the view from my window for a short moment. I can feel her nervous gaze on my back, but I don't acknowledge it. Let her worry about what's coming. I bet she thinks I'll tell daddy dearest or some shit. "I'm a little bit old fashioned, Cara," I tell her simply. "Okay." Her voice is unsure and shaky, and I love its vulnerability. "Come here." I motion for her to come closer, and she gets up on trembling legs and walks to my side of the desk. "Closer." She looks unsure, but she follows my directions until she's standing in front of me. She's even more beautiful up close, a pure vision of young beauty and innocence. I can't fucking wait to ruin her. "Now sit on my lap." "W-what?" she stutters over her words, her cheeks blushing deeply, but she doesn't take her eyes away from mine. I stare her down, waiting for the multitude of questions that never come. I'm a little surprised, but still unimpressed that she isn't following my clear directions. "Sit on my lap, Cara," I repeat in a silky smooth voice. It's up to her to react to my words. If she looks repulsed or refuses, I'll let her go, for now at least. But I've spent a long time observing her, and I think she's fucking excited. I think her little pussy's dripping already, and I think she really fucking wants to do as she is told. Slowly, she moves her little body into my arms. Her ass comes down on my lap and I groan out loud when her movement causes the smallest bit of friction. My dick has been rocked hard since she walked into my study, but with her sitting on top of me like this, I'm worried I'll embarrass myself and cum inside my pants like a fucking teenager. Cara drapes her arms around my neck and sits there, a vision in her pretty pink dress and her lips lightly parted.

She's more, she's better than I ever thought she would be. She's fucking unbelievable, and the way she followed my directions after only a moment's hesitation makes me want to devour her. I need to own her ass, and I'm not going to stop until I do. "Good girl," I mutter against her ear, and Cara shivers, her whole body trembling on my lap. She's not letting go, and I need to have my hands on her right the fuck now. I take ahold of her tiny waist, my strong fingers digging into her sides and so desperate to have her bouncing on my cock. I can feel the prim and proper way she tucked her dress under her ass isn't working, and her panties are so damn close to my cock the savage part of me wants to just rich them the fuck off and take her. "Your behavior is improving," I tell her gently. I tuck a strand of her pretty blonde hair behind her ear and she keeps her eyes downcast, shaking with nerves. "But I still can't let you get away with what you did. You know that, right?" She looks up at me, and her eyes are filled with betrayal and embarrassment. Good. I need to break those two emotions into pieces until there's nothing left but yearning. That's the next step, after all. "Yes," she replies in a soft voice, and my cock throbs so hard against my thigh I swear she can feel it. Her eyes finally go up to mine again and she blinks once, twice, three times. Her thick lashes rim her eyes prettily and her mouth is still parted, as if she's expecting me to kiss her. Too bad the truth of what's going to happen is far from that. In one swift moment, I put her over my lap. She inhales sharply, but she doesn't make another sound as she lays sprawled across my knee. "What happens to bad girls, Cara?" I ask her hoarsely, and she squirms in my arms. I put a hand firmly on the small of her back and hold her the hell down. "I... Please." Her voice is weak and we both know what she's asking for. "Bad girls get hurt," I tell her simply. "And I believe in physical punishment, because I think you'll love it as much as you'll fucking hate it." I know she'll love the pain, but the embarrassment of being put over my knee like this is going to have her blushing for the rest of the week. She doesn't say a single word, but she gasps softly when I pull her dress up. I swear I nearly cum in my trousers when I see her ass. I'd been saving it, the view of her bottom soon to be marked by my lashes. But she's fucking perfect, creamy, soft skin and a bubble butt I could've only dreamed of. She's wearing a tiny thong, a scrap of lingerie that pisses me off. I would've expected her to wear something more modest, but then again, I should've known she's a little slut on the inside. "What's this?" I growl in her ear, my fingers going under the fabric of the thong and making her mewl softly. "That's what you wear for a meeting with Daddy's

friend, Cara?" "Oh god," she breathes, her gasps slow and heavy now. She's stopped struggling to get off my lap, but she's burning the fuck up, her skin hot and heating up even more. "I... I'm sorry." "I'm sorry, Sir," I correct her, and I can feel the tension making her body go rigid in my arms. "I'm sorry, Sir," she repeats obediently. She turns her head to the side and looks at me, those eyes that are bound to be the death of me staring me down with their sparkling brilliance. And then the little slut grins at me, a wicked little smile for a wicked little girl. "What a naughty little whore," I mutter, and with the snap of my fingers, her sinful thong falls to the floor, ruined. She gasps, and her intake of air turns into a long, sensual moan. "I haven't even touched you, and yet," I remind her, "You're already moaning like a needy whore." Her body writhes in my arms and I take my time putting my hand on her ass. She's so fucking soft, her ass bouncing as my hand comes down against it for the first time. She shrieks when I hit her, and as soon as my hand's left her butt, she arches her back and puts her ass up for more. "Please," she begs desperately, and I chuckle. "Is that so," I say. "Already begging for more like a real slut. We've barely started, Cara." "How many?" she asks, and I smooth my hand over her reddening ass. I better not think about her naked pussy on my knee, because I'll turn her the hell around and bury myself balls deep in her hole if I do. "How many do you think you can take?" I ask her teasingly, and she gives me a defiant look. "Fifteen," she blurts out, and I grin at her. "Good," I say sweetly. "Let's double it and see what happens." "But..." Her eyes are desperate. "Shhh," I say. "Every time I hit your ass, I want you to say, Thank you, Sir, may I please have another? Is that clear?" Her breathing's picking up and she's panicking, squirming needily against my leg. She wants to get off, but fuck me if I'm going to let her. "I said, is that fucking clear, Cara?" "Y-yes," she manages to get out. "Good," I coo at her, smoothing my hand down her ass again. She moans and I hit

her, harder this time. She yelps with pain, but my hand comes down against her ass and I smooth the pain away with a gentle caress. "Thank you, S-Sir," she whispers. "And what else?" I prompt her. "May I..." I smooth circles down her ass and she moans so loud she could wake the dead. "May I please... May I pretty please have another?" "What an overachieving little slut," I praise her. "Making me fucking proud, Cara." I hit her again. And again. And again.

SIX

Cara

he slaps of his hand across my flesh send me into a frenzy. By the time we've T reached ten, I'm shaking, my whole body threatening to collapse in on itself, and

yet he isn't stopping, and I know he won't for a while, and it's my own fault. I don't even try to comprehend what's happening fully because it's almost too much for me to handle right now. "Please," I croak. "Please stop just for a s-second..." Another slap shuts me up and I moan, long and slow and deep as he makes me stay still in his lap. "You said fifteen," Mason tells me darkly. "And I promised you we'd double that. Regretting your words so soon, little girl?" "No, I..." I feel tears pricking my eyes. I don't know whether it's because it hurts or because I'm embarrassed, and I don't really care, either. I'm humiliated, and I'm also dripping wet. The moment he lifts me off his lap, he's going to find a big wet spot on his trousers, and I'll want to die on the spot for it. "Please, stop. Please, let me go." "Does it hurt?" he asks me gently, and his palm smooths down my ass, massaging the tender and sore spots in long and soothing circles. I moan, and I'm too embarrassed to admit that yes, it does hurt, but it feels incredible at the same time and I don't want him to stop. "I'll stop if it hurts too much, Cara. I promise." "Y-yes," I mumble. "Please, it hurts too bad." It's a white lie, but I'm too embarrassed to keep doing this. My center is heating up and I'll die if I cum on his lap like this. I just can't let that happen. "Just let me go, Sir, please." Hearing the name on my lips makes him groan, and he rests his hand on my sore ass. "Alright," he says softly, and I let out a long breath of relief. "I promised I'd stop, but you said you could take fifteen, and fifteen it's gonna be. Are you gonna be more careful with your promises next time, Cara?" "Yes," I choke out, nodding vigorously. "I promise, I-I really do." I can't even

understand the idea of a 'next time'. What we're doing right now, this spanking, is already pushing my limits so much I can't imagine anything as awful and delicious at the same time. "Okay," he says, and in a second, he's turned me around on his lap. Time stands still for a moment as I settle my back on his knees and his eyes bore into mine. I can see him like this, see his ridiculously beautiful face that makes me want to claw his eyes out for doing this to me. But he can see me too, and I become increasingly aware of my nakedness on his lap. "Please," I beg again, my bottom lip trembling. His gaze slowly roves over my body. He stops on my collarbone, going down hungrily and drinking in my tits along with my heaving chest. My hands shake with a need to cover up my pussy, but I know he'll just push them aside, so I don't bother. He groans as his gaze travels lower and takes in my flat stomach and finally, the shaved triangle between my legs. I'm breathing so heavily my back's arching off his lap, and his eyes are violating me, fucking me with their intensity. He doesn't touch me, but he really doesn't have to. It's still too much and I feel like I'm going to burst any moment now. "Luckily there are other surfaces for me to hurt," he tells me, and I whimper at his words. He grabs me in his arms and lays me down on his desk, my back flush against the dark wood and my legs hanging off, trembling and shivering as his fingers graze my stomach. “You should learn what happens to little liars, Cara. I know it didn’t hurt that bad.” "Don't," I beg him. "Don't what?" he asks me, giving me a grin. "Hit you here?" His fingers linger over my belly, traveling upwards. I hiss when he reaches the area under my tits, still covered by my pink dress. "Or here?" "Please," I choke out. "Lower, please." "Lower what?" he taunts me. "Hit me lower..." I beg, and my own words embarrass me so much I wish the ground would just open up and swallow me whole. "On my pussy, Sir." I can't stop the words from coming. I can't stop myself from wanting what I do from this man, practically a complete stranger. "Please, Sir..." He chuckles and his fingers go lower. "I won't be able to make it better, though," he tells me darkly. "It's gonna hurt, you know that, right?" "Okay," I say breathily. "Just five more, right?" "Just five more," he nods. "Can you take them, little girl?"

"Yes." I may have overestimated my strength, but I'm going to stand up to him now. I'm going to prove I can take five more slaps, in my most sensitive spot, just to spite him. Whether he actually sees it as that is left up to my imagination, and he holds me down with a hand firmly pressed to my stomach, raising his palm above me. I squint and look away as the slap comes down and rings out in the office. He's gentler this time, and the sting feels too fucking good for me to stay in place. I squirm on the desk and try to get up, but he holds me firmly in place. "Aren't you forgetting something?" he asks me gently, and I give him an incredulous look. "Don't fucking test my patience, Cara." "Please Sir," I get out through gritted teeth. "May I please..." His fingers smooth the area he slapped and I gasp. "Please!" "Please what?" he demands, and his fingers stop rubbing, making me whimper in a frenzy. "May I please have another?" My voice is shaking and I barely recognize the tone. I'm scared, but I'm turned on at the same time, unbelievably turned on and ready for him to do more to my body. Still, when the next slap hits me, I'm unprepared, and a long moan is ripped from my throat. "Good girl," he praises me, smoothing down my hair. Most of it has escaped from my chignon now, and with a few simple motions, Mason undoes my hairstyle and my hair falls down in waves around my shoulders. "Such a looker," he tells me gently. "You really are something, Cara." He hits me again and again after I utter the magic words, but he doesn't caress my pussy the way he did my ass and it's making me squirm with need under him. No matter how big of a jerk he is, it doesn't stop me from wanting his hands all over my body. "Only one left," he promises. "Are you gonna be a good girl and beg for it?" "Please," I whisper. "Please slap me again, Sir." "Right here?" He smooths my pussy lips with his fingertips and I gasp. His fingers part them and I hear my own wetness, making me blush deeply. I look away and blink away the tears of humiliation. "Shhh, Cara," he says gently. "It's okay, it's a normal reaction. I'll stop now if you want. Just say it." But I can't talk, I can't utter a single word. He sighs and it's the most awful sound, the most awful feeling in the world to know I've disappointed him. He moves his hand away and I grab on to it. His eyes are surprised as they lock with mine, and I guide his hand back to the heat between my legs. "One more," I say.

"Yes," he confirms with a nod. "Only one more." His fingers part my pussy lips again, making me hiss as the air hits my wetness. And then he hits me, slapping the tender area of my opened pussy and making me scream and clench my legs. I really start crying then. Before I know it, he's gathered me in his arms and he's whispering calming, sweet nothings in my ear as he sits down on his chair with me in his lap. I curl up closer, needing the comfort of his presence and practically climbing on top of him. He keeps talking to me, sweet things I don't even understand because I'm so far gone. It doesn't even hurt, it's just so much to take in such a short amount of time, and the sheer desperation of having him inside me is almost enough to forget about my throbbing ass. He picks me up after a little while and carries me out of his office. I look up through heavy eyes as we walk down the unfamiliar hallways into my bedroom. He places me on the bed gently and I sob, softly and barely there. He strips me of my clothes and I barely notice, barely acknowledge he’s now seen me fully naked. Mason covers me up with the duvet, tucking me in gently and turning on a nightlight for me. "I hope I won't have to punish you again," he tells me, and I nod. I can't quite look into his eyes, but when he turns to leave, I reach out for him. "Don't go." He gives me a look full of wonder, like he didn't expect that. I really should hate him after he did, but a sick part of me - a big part of me - wants Mason to make it all better, the damage he caused himself. "Don't go, please," I repeat as he hesitates. "Stay here until I fall asleep." He seems undecided, but finally gives me a curt nod and steps towards the armchair on the other side of the room. I whimper, needing him closer, but he doesn't acknowledge it, and I somehow know if I beg him to come into my bed, he won't do it. Instead, he settles in the chair and I glue my sleepy eyes to him. The jet lag is finally getting the best of me and I know I'm about to pass out. Mason's heated gaze is fixed to mine as I slowly drift to sleep. I don't realize he's jerking his cock as he watches me, not until I wake up alone the next morning and remember his motions in that chair.

AS I WAKE UP THE NEXT DAY, THE EVENTS OF THE PREVIOUS NIGHT COME TRICKLING BACK AND I FIND myself blushing as I brush my tangled mess of hair. I keep thinking about Mason,

what we did in his office and how pissed my father would be if he got wind of what happened. But at the same time, I can't say I didn't like it. The feelings Mason evoked inside me are completely unheard of and I feel shy about reacting the way I did. But there's something else on my mind. As hard as I try to think about it, though, it keeps slipping away in favor of Mason and the punishment he doled out on me. Since no one has told me what I have to do today, I decide to take another stroll through the gardens and skip breakfast since it's already too late for that. I get dressed in a pink skirt with a white blouse on top, along with sweet little ballet flats. I fasten my favorite charm bracelet around my wrist and head out of the door. I keep thinking about last night and somehow manage to forget where I wanted to go. Before I know it, I've already ended up back at the secret garden I discovered the previous day. I sit down next to the locked door, my mind swimming with thoughts and something that happened here only yesterday. "Who are you?" My voice is shaky and I feel unsure of myself. He's handsome and about my age, and he just told me his name, but I'm too shocked to really understand. "Luca," he repeats, giving me a curious look. "Does that ring a bell?" "I..." I just stare at him. "It's me, Luca. It's Cara." He looks lost for a moment, but then his dark eyes start sparkling with mischief. "Cara," he repeats softly to himself, and he tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, making me look to the side, blushing wildly. "I see. And you're Mason's guest?" "Yes," I remind him. "I... I had no idea you would be here as well." "The surprise is mutual," he winks at me, and my heart pounds like crazy. I don't know what to tell him. The way he's acting makes me think he doesn't want me here, and it's odd after all the messages we'd exchanged. I still can't believe he's here, right here with me, on Mason's property. "But, what are you doing here?" I ask him. "I'm sure Mason will explain everything in due time," Luca smirks. I give him a doubtful look, inspecting him further. There is no doubt about it - he's a handsome man. But does he make me feel like I thought he would? Does he make my whole belly go aflutter with butterflies, does he make me feel like I'm about to pass out from the intensity of his gaze? I don't want to admit what the answer is, and I busy myself with blabbering about my home back in the States. Luca seems vaguely interested, and he chuckles a few times as I drone on and on. We start heading back towards the house together, chatting to one another.

It doesn't feel quite like I thought it would. I don't feel... that connection I felt with him over our texts and emails, and I don't understand why. It should only be more special in person, shouldn't it? And yet, I can't seem to get rid of the awkwardness between us. "Am I interrupting?" A kind voice interrupts me, and I look up, startled from being so caught up in my daydream. "I'm sorry, Signorina Newton, I just wanted to check if you wanted some late breakfast." The man who drove me from the airport, I think his name is Filippe, is looking at me with an all-knowing smile. "Oh, no, that's okay," I tell him, jumping to my feet. "I think I'll just wait for lunch instead if that's alright with you. Where is... where are the others, Luca and..." Filippe looks at me funnily and grins. "They will be back soon enough. Do you want me to walk you back to the house, signorina?" "Oh, Cara is fine," I tell him with a smile, and he just looks at me, disregarding what I said. I step from one foot to another. "I think I'll stick around for a while. I like it here." Filippe looks worried for a moment, and it makes me curious. Finally, he speaks up. "I'm not sure Mr. Scott would like you being here, signorina," he tells me softly. "Huh?" I give him a weird look, unsure of what he's on about. "What do you mean? I didn't do anything wrong, I didn't..." "I know," he tells me softly, placing a hand on my shoulder and gently, but firmly, steering me away from the walled-in garden. "I just think you should talk to Mr. Scott before you come to this garden in particular." "Alright," I say awkwardly, throwing a look over my shoulder at the mysterious wall. I wonder why Filippe - and I guess Mason, too - don't want me hanging out here. I guess I'll just have to find out by myself. I talk to Filippe as we walk back towards the house, and he tells me a little bit of history about the building and the ground it was built on. I'm fascinated, and Filippe seems pleased by my interest in the property. He likes talking about it, I can tell, and I briefly wonder how long he's been working for Mason. The mere thought of his boss makes me blush, and Filippe gives me curious look as my words trail off into nothing and I try to hide my embarrassment. "Lunch will be ready in about thirty minutes," he tells me calmly, not showing a hint of unprofessionalism. "If you'd like, signorina, you can look at the library upstairs. It's quite the sight for sore eyes." "That sounds lovely," I say with a genuine smile. I've always loved a good book. "I'll be downstairs soon, then."

He nods and disappears towards the dining room while I run up the stairs. The library's not hard to find, and it only takes me a few minutes to locate the beautiful room with tall ceilings, covered wall-to-wall in glorious books. "This is amazing," I mutter to myself. I head deeper inside the library and am about to burrow my head in one of the books, when I notice a door in one of the walls. I walk towards it curiously, and my hand checks the handle. It's unlocked. For some reason, I know I shouldn't go in there, but I can't seem to stop myself. I open the door, and I'm almost blinded by the wonderful lighting in the room. The whole south wall of the room is glass, and the light in the space is stunning. There are canvases strewn across the floor and leaning against the walls, some of them empty, some of them torn apart. An easel is placed in the center of the room, but I can't see the canvas on it without going around to the other side. Curiosity gets the better of me, and with my heart pounding, I round the corner and stand in front of the easel. The sight before me takes my breath away, and I blink several times before I can fully comprehend what I'm seeing. It's a painting, a beautiful one in so much vivid detail I can only imagine how much work and attention it took. A beautiful, young girl with blonde hair and orange flowers adorning her head stares off into the distance dreamily. I recognize her. I saw her in the mirror a little over two years ago at my sixteenth birthday party. A hand falls on my shoulder and I gasp loudly as strong, dominant fingers dig through the fabric of my blouse. "Disobeying again?" a deep voice asks me, and I look over my shoulder into a pair of dark eyes that will surely be the end of me.

SEVEN

Mason

he's shivering already and I've barely got my hands on her. I don't like this S recent development. She wasn't supposed to see the painting until a few weeks into her stay with me. But it is what it is, and I need to make the best of it.

"Well?" I ask her, raising my eyebrows. "Answer me, Cara. You know I'm stern with my punishments. Or did you forget about last night already?" She takes a step backwards, nearly toppling over the easel. A deep blush colors her cheeks and she's looking anywhere but into my eyes. Her hands are shaking and I put my own up as a sign that I'm not trying to hurt her here, even though she came into my atelier uninvited. "I didn't touch anything," she tells me in that shaky voice. I don't know why, but her fear is sexy to me. The way she trembles, the question mark at the end of every sentence she utters. It's sexy in its own right, and the desire to push her against the wall and just fucking take her is difficult to resist. I know I have to wait, though. I've been so patient so far, I can last a little while longer. "I know," I tell her gently. "I'm not trying to hurt you, Cara. Just calm down, okay?" She nods, but the motion is panicked and scared. I approach her slowly, like a hurt doe on the road, and even though I'm not touching her, she gasps as if my hands just seared her skin. "I'm not gonna do anything to you, nothing you don't want." "Okay," she manages to get out, swallowing thickly. Her eyes go to the easel and my own follow her gaze, looking at the innocent expression on her sixteen-yearold form. I painted her right after her party, starting the moment I came home and barely stopping to eat and sleep until I finished. I needed to have her on canvas, the way I remembered her from the day my obsession began. I was proud of the portrait - it was definitely one of my best. A selfish part of me hoped Cara liked it too, while another one wanted her to question me about it. And she didn't fucking disappoint. "Your work?" she asks, gathering up courage and pointing towards the canvas. I

come to stand behind her, noticing the way goosebumps prickle her skin as I stand behind her. "Yes," I tell her simply. "I'm sure I don't have to remind you of the occasion." A blush creeps up her neck and she looks away, her eyes fixed on the floor. Her neck is exposed, and I want to sink my teeth into the gentle skin of her shoulder. "Do you like it?" Fuck. I sound uncertain, almost needy for her approval, and I am already regretting my question. She needs to see that I am above her in every way, she needs to follow my every command. And besides, I don't need her damn praise. She looks at me over her shoulder, her fleeting gaze connecting with mine. She looks self-assured and almost cocky as she does so, and I curse inwardly again for letting that question slip. She'll pay for that cockiness later. "Yes, I do," she smiles. She steps closer and admires the painting from up close. "I didn't know you were a painter." "A hobby," I wave my hand dismissively. "You know I work in investments, just like your father. Painting's just a hobby I picked up in Italy. Nothing special, I'm merely a student for now." "Looks pretty professional to me," she murmurs under her breath, and I grin to myself. A sharp fucking eye. I thought her interest in art and its history was merely a ruse to get to Italy, but it appears to be at least a little bit genuine. Cara looks at me again after inspecting a painting. "Yes?" I ask her, grinning under her inquisitive gaze. "I'm just wondering," she says softly. "But... no, I'd better not ask." "I'll allow a question," I tell her lazily, mostly because I want to see what she's going to ask. "But only one. Shoot, Cara. Give me your best shot." "Okay..." Her eyes sparkle as she looks at me again, genuine interest in those pretty blue eyes. "You have an American name, yet you live in Italy. What brought you here?" "A woman," I tell her simply. "Oh." Her small exhale sounds almost regretful, but I decide not to dwell on it. She'll find out more when the time comes, but I don't intend on getting too personal with Cara until I see fit. "And she was Italian? Do you speak Italian yourself?" "I said one question," I remind her with a grin, and she giggles, blushing again. "I'm sorry," she says, and from the strained way she utters the words, I can tell she's not used to apologizing a whole lot. "I'm just curious. Seems like you know a

lot about me, and I barely know you." "I like it that way." I turn to leave after those words, having had enough of this exchange, when her small hand tugs on my sleeve. "Mason?" Just that, the feel of her fingers gripping my sleeve, is enough to send me into a fucking frenzy. God, I want her so fucking badly. I thought I could resist her when she finally came here, but with Luca around her, I just want to stake my claim already. "What is it?" I bark at her, because fuck me if I'm going to deal with my feelings right now. "I just... I like the painting." She has trouble getting the words out, and I turn around to face her again, crossing my arms in front of my body. She's cowering in front of me, tiny and sweet and so fucking delicious compared to my strong stature. "I just wanted to tell you, I feel honored you painted me. I love it." "Thank you," I tell her roughly. I approach her again and this time, she doesn't shrink away from my touch as I reach for her. "I needed to be tough on you yesterday, Cara. I want you to understand this is my house, and here, you need to play by my rules. Is that clear?" She hesitates, and my grip on her arm tightens. Finally, she looks up at me and nods slowly. Her eyes are crystal clear, the blue of them almost mesmerizing. She looks so different now from the first painting I made of her, and I believe it's time for the second painting. Pleased with this decision, I grunt and pull her towards me. She stumbles into my arms, but she doesn't shy away from my touch this time. I let my fingers roam her pretty face, down her straight and prominent cheekbones and her small chin. She parts her lips as if she expects me to touch them, but I don't. Instead, I turn around to leave. She lets out a small gasp, followed by a moan as she calls after me. "Mason..." "I have work to do," I tell her simply, and head out of the room. Before I can step out the door though, she's appeared in front of me, a little banshee in pink and white, stomping her foot on the ground angrily. "You can't just leave!" she tells me defiantly, and her bottom lip pouts and trembles as if she's about to start crying. "I... You can't treat me the way you did yesterday and never give me an explanation." I stare at her blankly, wondering where this spunky little personality came from. Her father had told me Cara definitely had a temper, but I hadn't been privy to it until now. But as she stands in front of me with her hands crossed in front of her

body, it becomes clear what her father meant when he told me she can be a handful. "Cara," I tell her slowly, warning her. "You need to get the fuck out of my way and let me work." "No," she whines. "I want to know why... you touched me like that yesterday. Why you... spanked me like a little child!" She blushes and her small fists hit my chest, albeit hesitantly. "I need to know why." "Why?" I groan into her face, and in a second, I have her pushed against the wall, my breath oppressing against her cheek as she tries to breathe, her frightened eyes dancing over my face. "Because it makes you feel like this, Cara," I groan into her ear. "Because it makes you so fucking weak at the knees you feel like you're about to pass out. Because it makes you want me, because it makes you submissive the way I want you to be. It makes your knees shake and your mouth water and your fucking pussy flood." She moans in protest and I chuckle. "Am I wrong, Cara?" "Y-yes," she gets out, giving me an angry look. "Is that so," I say. "So if I reached between your legs now, your little pussy wouldn't be soaking through the scrap of fabric you wear as panties? You wouldn't be fucking desperate to have me inside of you, Cara?" "No," she says, and it comes out as a question. I stare at her for a long time, unsure whether I love or hate this new spunky personality of hers. "Alright," I tell her simply. "Prove it then. Prove you don't feel attracted to me." She gives me a pissed off look, and I can almost see the gears in her mind running. Before I have a chance to react, the little vixen reaches for my shirt and pulls me in. I could've stopped her, but I let her do what she wants, and her hot, pouty little mouth melts against mine in a desperate, angry kiss. She's not skilled in kissing. She kisses so needily it makes my cock tighten impossibly hard though, and I put both hands on the wall on either side of her to stop myself from tearing her panties off. Cara bites my mouth a little too hard and I grunt as she sticks her pink tongue in my mouth, demanding my attention, demanding I return her kiss. The little slut stole our first kiss, and I didn't have it in me to stop her. Even though it's probably her first kiss and she doesn't know shit about what she's doing, her sinful lips on mine make my cock throb against my thigh. She reaches up from my chest, her fingers trembling as she fumbles with my buttons, and that's when I realize I really have to fucking stop her. If I let her go further, I really won't be able to stop myself.

I grab her wrists and pin them above her head. She moans, a dirty little sound that makes me want to explode inside that mouth of hers. "You don't call the shots here, little girl," I tell her darkly. "You know I could fucking punish you for doing that?" "Yes," she moans, and it almost sounds like she's begging for it. I shouldn't, but I reach between her legs anyway. I slap her thighs apart and she starts breathing so hard she can barely keep herself up. I toy with the skin on the inside of her leg for a while before I slide a finger between her pussy lips, over her panties. "Soaked," I tell her unnecessarily, and she whimpers, thrusting her hips out at me. I let go of her, and she crumples to the floor in a little heap. "Get out of here, Cara," I tell her darkly, and it takes her a moment to pick herself up. For a moment, she's just a sullen teenager who's pissed at the world and then some. But the look she gives me, so broken and sad, almost makes me call her back. But this is what I have to do. I have to deal with her attitude, I have to break her down slowly but surely until she's the perfect toy. Only when that's done will I allow myself to play with her. She walks out of the atelier on shaky legs, and she doesn't look over her shoulder as she leaves. I close the door behind her firmly, and get to work. I prepare my colors and paints and a fresh canvas on my easel. I imagine the sight of her the way I saw her last night, after I stripped her and put her to bed following our little playing session. The way her naked back was turned towards me, the yearning look she gave me over her shoulder as she pulled a sheet over her nakedness and buried herself inside the bed, with me sitting on the armchair. So close, but so far from her at the same time. I take my brushes out and I start to paint.

TIME GETS AWAY FROM ME, AND I BARELY NOTICE ANYTHING GOING ON AROUND ME. I DO REALIZE IT'S getting dark outside, and that's my clue to finally stop painting as I prefer the natural light of the sun when I work. I admire what I've done so far before stripping off my paint-stained shirt and walking out into the library without a tee. I head out into the hallway and into my wing of the house, taking a long, ice cold shower to clear my fucking head. The pinpricks of the cold water against my pores are torture, but I tell myself I need them for ruining my plan. Cara and I weren't supposed to kiss today, but I fell for her charms like some teenage sucker. I decide I need to get back at her for what she did, and as I get

dressed in slacks and a simple button-down shirt, I intend on doing just that. However, when I walk outside of my bathroom, I find Luca sitting comfortably on the couch in my room, grinning at me as I walk out of the room. "Hello," he tells me smoothly. "I thought it was high time I said hello to daddy dearest." "What the fuck do you want?" I ask him, barely able to contain my anger. I towel dry my wet hair and throw the used towel on my bed. "I don't have time for your shit right now." "You're not going to say hello to the prodigal son?" he asks me, feigning shock. "I've been home for two days now and you haven't deigned me with your presence." I stand in front of him, crossing my arms and glaring at him. "Alright, alright." Luca laughs and gets up. He's not as tall as me, but he has filled out over the year, since I last saw him. "I see you've brought in a tasty treat for yourself for the summer. Cara, is it?" I approach him menacingly, saying, "You stay the fuck away from her." "It's her that's having trouble staying away from me," he grins, smoothing a hand through his dark hair. He looks so much like me it's unnerving. "She thinks I'm her little penpal boyfriend." I can feel the color draining out of my face, and the little prick has the nerve to laugh at me. "Some fucking game you're playing, old man. Better not ruin anything for you, then." "What do you want?" I hiss, because clearly, this is about one thing only. He wants something in exchange for staying away from Cara, from letting me do whatever the fuck I want with my girl. "Twenty grand," he says simply. "In my account, tomorrow." "Done," I tell him coolly. "Now get the fuck out of my face." "It will do," he nods, grinning at me. "For now." "What the hell are you doing home, anyway?" I ask him roughly. "Weren't you supposed to spend the summer with some friend?" Luca shrugs. "Apparently, the family frowns upon people deflowering their virgin daughter. You know I have a thing for virgins. Must run in the family." He squarely avoids my punch, and with those words, he leaves my room. I curse out loud, punching a wall instead. Blood runs down my knuckles, but there's no sign in

the wall - this house is a solid stone and brick build. Still, Luca has me worried. He could fuck everything up with the wrong word. I don't know what came over me when I used his name to play with Cara. I didn't think he would be at the house this summer, and his sudden arrival has changed everything. If he fucks up things with Cara, so help me God, I will kill him.

EIGHT

Cara

seen either Mason or Luca in a few days now, ever since that kiss in I haven't the atelier. I still can't believe I did that, kissed my father's friend in a way

that would make any girl blush. I feel embarrassed, but I also feel angry, because he hasn't sought me out once since then even though I was certain he was going to punish me again. But maybe this was his punishment - ignoring me completely and letting me be all on my own. Luca was a mystery in my eyes. Ever since we met in the garden, he hadn't replied to any of my texts or messages. Not that I sent too many - I had been too preoccupied worrying about Mason. But I still had no idea what he was doing on Mason's property or who exactly he was. He simply told me Mason would explain everything soon, but as for now, I am still clueless. I find myself spending more and more time in the gardens. There hasn't been a single expedition into town since I've been here, which I'm bitter about. I thought this whole summer was supposed to be about me exploring Italy, and so far, I've barely seen any of it. I am mostly left to myself, and so I decide to explore the grounds of the property, always feeling Filippe's watchful eyes on my back. I haven't wandered back to the secret garden in a long time now, even though I feel the pull of the place on my soul. But I decide to respect the wishes of the man of the house. Besides, I'm too terrified he'll punish me again if he catches me there, anyway. I eat dinner alone again for the third day in a row. I'm about to head back into my room when Luca walks inside the dining room, his walk confident, his broad shoulders held back and a winning smile on his face. Instead of feeling that surge of heat between my legs, the one that always happens when I read his messages, I feel something I can only describe as fear. It jabs my heart and I clear my throat, hoping Luca didn't notice anything. "Where have you been lately?" I ask him, getting up from my seat at the table. He blocks my way and I give him an almost scared look. He's intimidating in a much

different way than Mason. He plain creeps me out sometimes, while Mason makes my pussy drip with a single look, sending anticipation and fear through my veins at the same time. "Busy," Luca says, stealing some garlic bread from my plate and chewing. "I'm curious, do you know who I am yet?" "Luca," I say simply, and my voice shakes. For someone who I've exchanged hundreds of messages with, he seems like a complete stranger. "I assume you work with Mason? Maybe like an apprentice, or an assistant?" He laughs heartily and gives me a doubtful look, saying, "You can't honestly believe that." "No one's told me a thing," I protest wildly. "You've both just left me to fend for myself, pretending I'm not even here!" All of a sudden, Luca's hand sneaks up the side of my body and his fingers grip my throat. I mewl, but it doesn't feel sexy. It feels wrong instead, and I clench my legs shut, worried about his next move already. "Please," I manage to get out. "Don't hurt me." "Why shouldn't I?" he growls in my face, and for the first time, I see the almost animalistic quality in his gaze. He looks dangerous, not in a way that would make me excited, but in one that makes me shiver with fear. "There's no one here to stop me." "Get your fucking hands off her." Luca looks over his shoulder lazily, never giving up the grip on my throat. Mason's standing behind him, shooting him looks that could kill. "Or what, old man?" he asks him, and I laugh at the ridiculous insult. Mason is probably on the younger side of thirty, closer to Luca's age than my father's. "You can't keep me away from her forever." Mason approaches us both and I squeeze my eyes tightly shut as he peels Luca's hand off me and throws him against the wall. I hear someone shriek and only a moment later come to realize the sound came from my mouth. Mason has Luca pinned against the wall, the two men glaring at each other like they're exchanging a silent dialogue I'm not privy to. Finally, Luca starts laughing, a sound that makes my blood freeze in my veins. Mason pushes him away and the younger man stumbles to the floor, picking himself up in a second and dusting off his jeans. "You think you own her?" Luca hisses at Mason. "You don't know shit. I own you both." With that, he walks out of the room, and it takes me a moment for my heartrate to slow down until I can breathe normally. I let out a whimper, and Mason looks at me

over his shoulder. I watch his eyes skim my body quickly, as if he's checking to see if I'm on one piece. "I'm scared of him," I tell him, feeling tears pricking my eyes. He doesn't say a word, merely glares at me before disappearing down the hallway without uttering a single sentence meant for me only. It pisses me off, and once I've collected myself enough, I storm back to my room. There's no key in the lock, so I push a chair from the vanity table against the handle, because I don't want anyone coming in. Luca or Mason - they both have something going on, and no one is telling me a thing which really pisses me off. I deserve to know what's going on, don't I? I fall to the bed, and promptly fall asleep for the next few hours, waking up disoriented when it's already dark and ominous outside. I know I should be smart and just stay in my room, save all my questions and complaints for the next time I see Mason. I haven't told my father much, though he calls me every night. I don't even know how to explain everything I've done and gone through in this house. I walk to the open French doors, standing on my balcony. The buzzing of the cicadas has become the soundtrack to my summer, and oddly, they manage to calm me down a little as I listen to their relentless songs. Finally, I decide I need some fresh air. I put a cardigan over my white dress, keeping my feet barefoot so as not to make any noise when I sneak out on the stairway. I open my door softly, finding the house dark and completely deserted. I know Filippe's in his wing, but I assume both Luca and Mason are either away or in their rooms, oblivious to me breaking the rules. I sneak down the stairs quietly, leaving through the backdoor in the kitchens. I've only been there a few times, but I memorized the small door leading into the gardens. Once I'm outside, I feel free and happy. The air is cooler and less oppressing, the insects are chirping happily, and there's a spring in my step as I run through the grass. It's going to need mowing soon, but for now, I'm enjoying its long blades leaving wet marks on my ankles. I know where I'm going already. Right now is the only time I feel comfortable seeing the secret garden, when nobody is looking. Whenever I tried to go earlier, I could always tell Filippe was watching, just waiting for another chance to tell me I wasn't allowed to go back there. But with the lights in his wing of the room out, I know he's fast asleep, and he'll be none the wiser if I pay my special garden a visit. I'm there in mere moments, and I lean my back against the wall as I take a deep breath of the summer. It's truly beautiful here, and I've never really appreciated my surroundings as much as I've started to in Italy. Curiosity gets the better of me, and I try the door in the wall again. As always, it's firmly locked. I sigh in

frustration and on a whim, decide I might as well try to climb the wall instead. It takes me a couple of tries, but in the end, I finally manage to climb on top of the stone. I can see the garden now, albeit not as clearly since it's already nighttime. I swing my legs over the side and, before I can lose my courage, I jump off the edge. I end up in a heap on the ground, my bare legs smeared with the dirt and scratched by a neglected rose bush in the walled-in garden. I curse softly to myself and look at the distance I jumped from. I'm lucky I didn't break anything, and I can only hope the way out will be as easy. I start inspecting the garden and am on my way to break down the brambles preventing me from going further when I hear someone approaching. I freeze completely, standing still and trying not to make a peep. But then something even more awful follows - a key turning in the lock. And then the door to the garden creaks open, and suddenly, I'm not alone anymore. I look over my shoulder, my face pale and scared as I lock eyes with Mason. He's wearing a pair of jeans, which I've never seen him in, and a simple white tee. He's more handsome than ever with his beard left untrimmed and his hair messy. I freeze like a deer in headlights. He sees me right away, but he doesn't say a single word. I know I'm already in trouble as he closes the door and the lock clicks closed as he turns the key in it, pocketing it for safe keeping. I make a scrambled attempt to scale the walls again, but his strong body encompasses mine and presses me against it before I can make a move. He smells good, really fucking good. Like pine needles and summer, an odd combination that fills me with a need so deep I whimper, looking into his clouded eyes. "You're not supposed to be here," he tells me, and I nod. "I know." "Why are you, then?" I hesitate before giving him an answer. He's not touching me, not yet, but his enormous body is crowding mine, making me unable to escape. "I wanted to see," I admit. "Filippe told me I wasn't allowed to come here." "You're not," Mason spits out. "I'm sorry," my voice shakes as the sincerest apology of my life comes out. I really am sorry, and I'm scared too. I crumple into myself, but Mason grabs my hips, making me stand up straight. "I didn't mean to hurt anyone. I just wanted to see." Small, soft sobs start shaking my body and Mason curses out loud, running a hand

through his inky hair. I can tell he's pissed, but for some reason, he's not telling me he's gonna punish me yet. "It's locked for a reason," he tells me roughly, and I'm quick to nod. The cicadas are ominous now, their chirping becoming louder like it's the soundtrack to the scene I've found myself in. "You're not supposed to be in here. Or anyone else, for that matter." "But why?" Curiosity gets the better of me and the question slips out before I can stop it. "It's beautiful here. I like it. I want to see more." Mason gives me a surprised look, saying, "It's overgrown. It's been like this for years." "I like how wild it is," I get out in a small voice. "It would look beautiful if you only tended to it a little. Why did you let it get to this point? It wouldn't take too much work to bring it back." Mason looks pissed, and I'm already regretting all of my questions. "Did you know I come here?" he asks me roughly, and I give him a strange look, shaking my head. "I just wanted to see," I repeat softly, and he curses out loud, rubbing his temples. "No one but me has been in here in seven years," he says quietly, and I try not to let my surprise show. "It's that way for a reason." He keeps repeating that, and I keep wondering why. "I can leave," I offer. Only moments ago, I wanted that. But now, with him looking more vulnerable than I've ever seen him, I want to stay. I want to see more, find out why this place has such an effect on him. He looks at me, his eyes empty and hurt, and I can't help but wonder who put all the pain in there. I'm too scared to ask, though. Mason's standing a few steps away from me and I'm shuffling from one foot to the other, dirtying my legs with the unattended soil. My dress is already ruined, but for once, I don't care about it. I just want him to ask me to stay. I make a move for the door when he doesn't say a word. "Don't," he barks at me, and I stop in my tracks. I'm nervous, and he's making me scared. In two long steps, he's approached me. His hand shakes as he reaches up to my face, placing a finger on my chin and making me look at him. He doesn't say anything, and my bottom lip trembles as our eyes connect. Mason looks hurt, almost physically so, his dark eyes cloudy with anger, but his body broken with memories he never told me about. "Sir..." the word falls from my lips without being prompted and I blush, unable to look away from him. There's something in his eyes that makes me want to find out

more. Why is he so protective about this little walled-in piece of land? He groans when I call him that. "Don't play games," he warns me. "I'm not," I whisper back, and for once, I'm telling him the truth. He moves away for a second, rubbing his temples. There's such tension coming off his body it makes me wonder what's troubling him, but before I can decide on a reason, he's back. His hands reach for my dress and I gasp as he rips it open, right down the middle. The cool night air hits my exposed skin, my tits naked and my nipples painfully hard under his watchful gaze. "Are you going to punish me?" I ask in a shaky voice. He doesn't answer me.

NINE

Mason

he looks beautiful in the moonlight, the soft glow of the night only serving to S illuminate her stunning features. It's getting harder and harder to keep my hands

off her, and I already know I'm going to have trouble with this next punishment. But she shouldn't be here. This garden is strictly off limits, as I'm sure Filippe has told her. Not that she listened. Girls like Cara never fucking listen. "I don't want to hurt you," I tell her, and she shivers under my touch when my hand slides down her forearm. Goosebumps prickle her skin and her big blue eyes find mine in the darkness, an unspoken question hanging in the air between us. So why are you going to? Because I have to. Because you want me to. For that divine look of submission, for that moment when you let yourself drift and your body belongs to me. I don't say a word, just twist my fingers in Cara's hair, gently pulling on the silky locks and making her come closer to me. Her scent is intoxicating, sweet peaches and cream, not unlike those that grow in my orchard in the height of summer. Her lips part as I lead her through the overgrown garden to a small bench standing in the corner. "Sit down," I tell her gently, but firmly. She obeys my order without saying another word this time around, sitting on the edge of the bench, her thoughtful eyes following mine. I think she's desperate for another order, but I don't tell her that. She hasn't been trained properly, she won't understand it right now. Not like I do. "Part your legs." My next order takes her by surprise, and she hesitates for a moment. Long enough

to make me kneel in front of her, my hands resting on either side of her legs on the bench. "Did I fucking stutter, Cara?" She shakes her head frantically, and slowly, her legs part. I keep looking into her eyes even though it's insanely fucking hard with her pussy calling out to me so desperately. She keeps pushing her legs apart, farther and farther, and I can't help but feel proud of her. She doesn't stop until she's opened up to me completely, her little cunt only inches away from my hungry lips. "Good girl," I praise her, and her legs shake slightly. "Now stand them on your toes, on the very tips. And tense your muscles, every muscle in your legs." "Why?" she asks, an instinct that earns her a stern look from me. She blushes and finally does as she's told, her feet tiny and naked on the ground, her muscles straining as she fights to keep control of her body. "Pull your panties off," I tell her, and her feet fall back down. "Cara. Feet on your toes. Panties off. Fucking now." She's starting to shake, her whole body trembling with the impact of my words. I want to tell her I've seen her naked before, and I'm going to again plenty of times, but I don't. We're gonna have to deal with this bratty side of hers, because it's making me want to crack my belt across her ass. Not that it's a bad thing. With shaky fingers, Cara reaches to her hips. My eyes follow her hands as she hooks her thumbs in her thong and starts pulling it down. Her feet shake on their toes and she tenses, slipping the panties off her feet. "Good girl," I tell her again, and my fingers wrap around her dainty little ankles. She gasps and I grin at her, loving the effect I'm having on her body. She can try to deny it, but sooner or later Cara will realize she was made for me. "Now show me your pussy," I order her. "Spread yourself wide open for me, Cara. I want to see every fucking part of you." She hesitates again, but her own body gets the better of her and she lifts up her sweet white dress, showing me the shaved triangle between her legs. I exhale, my breath ragged, as she reaches between her thighs and shows me her pretty pink pussy. She opens herself up for me, showing me every fold, every fucking throbbing, soaked part of that sweet cunt. I'm worried I'm gonna cum in my pants, for fuck's sake. "Such a beautiful little pussy," I say roughly. "Hands behind your back now, hold your wrists. Be a good girl, Cara."

She doesn't say a word, but she pants heavily as she crosses her arms behind her back. I torture her for a while longer, leaving hot, panting breaths along the skin of her inner thighs. "Please," she finally begs, blushing as soon as she realizes the word has slipped out. "Mason, I-" "What did I tell you to call me?" I ask her, my grip on her ankles tightening. "Sir," she manages to get out. "Sir, please. Get it over with." "Get it over with?" I chuckle and tickle her legs, my fingers sliding along her thighs and making her squirm. "Oh, baby, you're gonna be begging me not to stop by the time I'm finished with you." With that, I lean closer, letting my beard prickle the sensitive skin of her inner thighs. She moans, sweet and soft and sensual, as I lick and bite at her creamy skin. Fucking shit, she tastes delicious. If I'm not careful, she's going to realize how fucking crazy I am about her and get the upper hand. I kiss my way between her legs, and Cara tenses all her muscles, her ass almost lifting off the bench. She's moaning, sexy little sounds that make me swell in my pajamas. I bite the lips of her pussy and she thrusts her hips into my face. My hands leave her ankles and I wrap them around her waist instead. She makes a move to wrap her legs around my neck, but I stop her, giving her a stern look. "Legs on your toes, muscles tense," I remind her, and she nods so fervently it makes her hair tumble forward. "Good girl." I know for a fact she's never been licked here. I'm the first man tasting her, having her in my mouth, and I intend on being the last one, too. I burrow between her legs and she lets out a long moan, her hands desperately shaking behind her back. I bite her sweet clit, throbbing and slippery wet from her juices running down her thighs. "Sir," she whispers. "Sir, I want to cum again, please." I chuckle between her legs and get back to work. I almost get lost in her, the sweetness of her pussy and the way her folds part to let my tongue in. I work her until she's gasping, whether it's my name or the one I told her to address me with, I don't even know. I don't even stop her when she reaches for me, her hands wrapping in my hair desperately, trying to get off on my mouth. So damn desperate. I wait until she's so close she's almost bursting. And even though it kills me, I give her sweet clit one last lick before moving away. Her eyes are glazed over as she looks at me. "No, fucking please," she begs. "Please, more. Please, let me cum."

"No," I tell her simply. "My fucking turn." Her eyes widen as I pull my cock out of my trousers and she starts moaning. For a second I'm sure my plan has backfired and she's gonna cum from the sight of my cock alone. Every time she tries to touch that sinful little pussy, I smack her hands away. "You knew you weren't supposed to be here, Cara," I tell her roughly. "So tonight, you don't get to cum. But I do. I deserve it, don't you think?" I start working my cock, slow, long strokes. She just whimpers and her eyes glaze over even more as she stares at me. I'm getting close, really fucking close. I was worried about her reaction, worried she'd get scared when she saw the size of my cock. She has no experience, after all. She doesn't even know I could split her in half. Suddenly, Cara drops to her knees and crawls closer to me. I wrap my fingers in her hair and hold her at an arm's length, and she makes desperate little noises in the back of her throat, trying to get closer to me. "What a filthy little girl," I tell her softly, feeling a drop of precum glide down my tip and her hungry eyes following it. "You want a taste, don't you, Cara?" "Please," she mewls. "Just one. Just one drop." "I don't think so." I grin wickedly at her, and a grunt leaves my lips as I feel myself at the brim. Cara scoots closer, parting her lips and opening her mouth so wide. She's too far away to get a taste, but goddamn, is she trying. "Jesus, Cara," I growl, and she blinks, long lashes fluttering against flushed cheeks, her pink tongue out and ready for my cum. I don't want to, but I fucking spurt cum all over my hand, all over my fucking fist and she cries and fidgets when it runs down my thigh and seeps into the ground. She rips herself out of my hold when I'm not careful, and her little tongue sneaks up my thigh, licking up a trail of cum. She moans and moans and I feel myself dripping again as another, fucking painful orgasm, takes over my body. Cara cleans my leg and pants for more, but as soon as my cock is drained, I put it back in my pants and grab her firmly in my arms. She's so far gone she tries to grind on my lap, still so fucking desperate to cum for me. I carry her out of the garden, her body needily convulsing in my arms. I don't stop until we're in my bedroom. I don't give a shit if anyone sees us. Finally, I place her in my bed, and she starts grinding against the sheets. "Little slut," I tell her, but my voice is gentle. I dig around in a chest of drawers at the foot of my bed until I find my favorite silk rope. Cara's eyes widen as I pull it

out, but she doesn't question me when I tie her wrists to the bedpost. It's only when she realizes why I'm doing this that she mewls in protest. "Now, now, Cara," I coo. "Can't have you getting yourself off, now. Then your punishment would've been in vain, right?" "Fuck you," she says desperately, and I laugh at her, helpless and stunning in my bed. "I have some work to do," I tell her simply. "I'll be back in the morning." "You can't just leave me here!" she's incredulous, angry as fuck and beautiful as hell. "Watch me." I grin and leave the room, her helpless, subdued little cries following me down the hallway.

I TAKE MY SWEET TIME WORKING WITH SOME CLIENTS OVERSEAS THAT NIGHT. I DON'T HEAD BACK TO MY bedroom until 10:00 a.m. has come and passed. Finally, because I'm a damn impatient bastard, I leave my study and walk in on Cara with her eyes sleeping like a doll. "Morning, sweetheart," I say gently, and she stirs sleepily at the sound of my voice. I walk over to her, pleased to see she hasn't struggled against her restraints. I let her down, smoothing down the skin on her wrists as she curls up on the bed. "Sleep well?" "Not enough," she mutters. "Need more." "Sorry, Cara," I laugh. "We're going into town today. No more time to sleep." As soon as the words leave my lips, she gets up and looks at me, wiping her sleepy eyes. "Are we really?" she asks me, the excitement plain in her voice. "I want to go so badly. Do you promise we're going? To Venice?" I nod, her excitement pleasing me. In a second, she's forgotten all about her traumatic night, and she squeals as she jumps up from the bed, telling me all about how excited she is. It’s going to be a fun day. Cara doesn’t seem to remember I have an agenda though, and I have some plans for her when we get to town. She’ll find out what they are soon enough.

TEN

Cara

believe I finally get to leave the house. I've been cooped up here, and my I can't excitement at finally exploring Venice is making me grin the whole way into

town.

Filippe drives us to the city, with Mason and me sitting in the back. He keeps smiling at my childlike excitement, but I can't stop myself. I never lied about my obsession with art history, and I've always wanted to travel and explore the world, Italy especially. I just know this is going to be amazing. I'm also trying to distract myself from thinking about Mason and what happened during the night too much. It was insane, the things he made me feel scaring me as much as they turn me on. I don't really know what to think of the whole thing. Does he like me, or is he merely using me, showing me he has to be in control every single second I'm there? I guess I'll find out eventually, but for now, it's easier to occupy my mind with the beautiful scenery surrounding us. We drive up to the port, where Filippe explains the last leg of the journey will be spent on the boat. I grin excitedly as he helps me walk to a boat Mason apparently owns. The man in question is grinning at me as I sit down, barely able to contain my excitement. "This is amazing," I tell him honestly. "Thank you so much for bringing me here, I really love it." He gives me a thoughtful smile, and it makes me wonder whether this was all a test. Maybe he just wanted to see if I really was interested in art, like I'd claimed. Well, he won't be disappointed. "First stop - the island of Murano," Mason tells me with a wink, and I lean forward in my seat as the boat takes off. The sea is foamy and beautiful, the spray of the salty water pleasant against my cheeks as we make our way to the island. I don't know a whole lot about Murano, so

Mason fills me in over the sound of the crashing waves as we make our way to the island. I find out Murano is famous for its glass, a unique colored kind that is used in jewelry and decorations for the home. Mason promises he'll take me to a workshop to see just how it is made. As soon as we arrive on the island, I realize he is well-known around these parts. Several people shake his hand and exclaim in Italian, obviously happy to see him. I follow sheepishly behind and find myself oddly proud when he introduces me as his protégée. I haven't really paid much attention to the fact that Mason is an artist, though the portrait he has of me has been on my mind constantly. But here on the island, it becomes abundantly clear how involved he is in the art world. He leads me into a small stone house, and as soon as we enter, the heat consumes me. There's a fire burning in a huge oven, and a shirtless, incredibly handsome man is standing in front of it. Another excited handshake, a clap on the back for Mason. A curious look for me. Mason tells the man something in Italian, and they both laugh. I want to know what he said. We stand back as the man demonstrates how Murano glass is made, my eyes widening in surprise as he shapes the moldable, hot shape into a beautiful vase. He's a master of his craft, but the scars and burns on his body speak of a time when he wasn't. I find myself respecting this man immensely. Mason leans over to me and says, "Murano glass is expensive as hell. That vase could be sold for as much as twenty thousand dollars." My eyes glaze over and I keep watching as the man - Cristiano, I think his name is continues to shape the beautiful vase. Once he's happy with it, he sinks it into a bucket of ice cold water. A little while later, Mason and I admire the vase, finished and flawless. "For the ragazza," the man says in broken English, pointing at me. "If you like." "The vase?" My eyes widen. I wasn't expecting this, and I know I should turn it down as it's too generous a gift. "But why? You've only just met me." "Bella," he tells me with a wink. "Mason's pet." I blush deeply as Mason's arm wraps proprietorially around my waist. I nod, accepting my role and accepting the vase. I would be lying if I claimed his words didn't flatter me. Another boat ride and we arrive in the center of Venice, my vase wrapped up and left with Filippe. Mason shows me around the beautiful city and the sights I've only

seen in pictures and TV come alive in front of my eyes. The pigeons in St. Mark's Square make me squeal as they descend upon me. I feast my eyes on the beautiful canals, the bridges, the gondolas. I lose myself in our surroundings, Mason's voice a pleasant distraction as he explains the history of the city. We end up in a quaint restaurant in one of the side alleys, and once again, Mason proves he knows everyone. I ask him to order for me, and when I'm presented with a huge plate of fettuccine with truffles, I lick my lips expectantly. It's delicious. The day is perfect. So perfect I wish it would never end. While we eat, I ask Mason about his art, his paintings. He seems hesitant to answer me, but finally, he opens up a little. "Like I said, it's merely a hobby," he tells me softly. "I can't live off it and I love my job, but painting is... it fills a hole in my life." I wonder why the hole is there, but I don't inquire about it, remembering my place. "Do people know you paint?" I ask him, and he gives me a devious grin. "They do, baby." His term of endearment makes me blush, and I wipe my lips with a napkin to hide the redness in my cheeks. I don't think it goes unnoticed, as Mason smiles at me knowingly. "In fact, I'm going to have an exhibition at the house soon," he tells me. "While I'm still here?" I ask, the excitement plain in my voice. "I think so. Would you like to be there?" he wants to know, his eyes curious. "Oh, yes." I clap my hands, excited. "I would love to - if you'd like me to, of course." "Maybe." We finish our meal chatting about this and that. I try to convince Mason to let me have a Bellini, a mix of champagne and peach juice, but he merely laughs. The drinking age in Italy is eighteen, but he won't budge. In some ways, the man is so traditional it hurts. Once we're done eating, Mason tells me we only have one sight left - the Ponte dei Sospiri. He refuses to explain what it means until we've arrived at our destination. I realize he's somehow managed to close it off for everyone else, as it's only the two of us now. The bridge is small and quaint, but beautiful. It spans over a small canal, the white limestone worn under my fingertips. "Tell me what the name means," I beg Mason for the last time, and he finally

complies. "Ponte dei Sospiri means Bridge of Sighs," he says, and I give him a curious look. "The view from this bridge is the last thing many people saw. Convicts were lead through it into prison." "That's awful," I breathe, the gruesome history of the bridge taking away from its beauty. "It's only awful if you make it out to be," Mason tells me, moving to stand behind me. My hands are braced on the small windowsill of the enclosed bridge, and they shake as he puts his palms on my ass. "I like to make my own memories," Mason says, sending shivers down my spine. "And I think it's about time a different kind of sigh happened here." The sun starts to go down, a beautiful sight from our spot, as Mason leans down and trails a line of kisses down my back. "Sir..." I've begun switching from calling him by his name and his role so fast, I don't even know when the transition happens. "What if someone sees?" "No one's here," he promises me. "Relax, Cara." His hand snakes its way down my back, and I arch my whole body against his touch. He cups my ass in both hands, squeezing hard and making me moan out loud. How he manages to get these reactions out of me is beyond me, but I can't fucking help myself. I want to feel him go lower, reach between my legs and feel how soaked my panties are. He turns me around then, making me lean back against the wall of the bridge. His mouth descends on mine and I stop breathing. His lips are strong, insistent. They won't let me budge, they won't let me be passive in the game we're playing. I kiss him back softly, not knowing how to do it. The only kiss I've had was with Mason, and I was angry, upset and needy at the time. This is different. This is real. He won't let me take it easy, and he kisses me harder, demanding more and more from me. I open my mouth wider and he slips his tongue between my lips, making me moan into his mouth so loudly I blush, knowing anyone could hear. The bridge is so small I can hear the chatter of people, and yet I can't bring myself to stop. I need more of this, more of Mason. With a sudden movement, he reaches between my legs. "I can't wait," he says, "to have you come apart in my arms, Cara."

I don't have time to blush as he pushes my soaked panties aside, his fingers outlining the shape of my pussy lips. He presses down on my clit, making me buck my hips wildly, desperate for the release only he can give me. He starts working my pussy without ever slipping a finger inside. He's never made it clear he knows I'm a virgin, but I think he knows. He must... It's like he's saving my pussy for later, the cherry on top of this perfect day. I don't know how he can pace himself. All I can think about is the cock in his pants, huge and throbbing and so hard it makes me want to climb on top of him and press him inside me. I mewl, and my conscience slowly gets pulled away from me as I succumb to what Mason's doing, making me cream his fingers so loudly I blush in embarrassment. "You're such a dirty little girl," he coos. "So fucking wet for me. Can you hear yourself, Cara?" I nod and he keeps going, rendering me speechless. He's working my clit, his mouth claiming mine again and biting into the soft flesh of my bottom lip. I can feel myself tensing, the orgasm coming with impending urgency. "Moan into my mouth, baby," he tells me softly. "No one's gonna hear." I do as he says, soft, long moans between his lips, needy and pathetic little sounds that only make him go faster. He strums my clit until I crash over the edge, spiraling and falling as I scream my release into Mason's mouth. He doesn't stop and I come again, until I'm a helpless heap in his arms, panting and gasping for air. He's chuckling as he stands me up, putting my panties back into place and reaching up with his fingers. "Suck me off, Cara," he tells me, and gently puts two fingers inside my mouth. I lick at them tentatively, keeping my eyes on Mason. He leads me back to the boat with a hand on my back, making sure I'm okay. I realize I've never felt safer.

ELEVEN

Mason

he trip to Venice was a success. Cara looks content and happy as we drive T back to the house, her bare feet tucked under her ass and her hand resting in mine.

It's odd, this weird intimacy that's developed between us. We haven't really spoken about what we mean to one another. I wonder if she knows I plan on claiming her completely. She squeezes my hand every time she sees something exciting through the tinted windows, pointing out this sight and that plant as we drive back home. The partition is up, separating us completely from Filippe. I'm enjoying my time alone with her. Taking Cara to Venice was beneficial in more ways than one. I discovered she really does enjoy art. The way she listened to me speak about the architecture actually made me hard, and I want to learn more about her. She's a complex little thing, but I can't fucking wait to peel off all her layers and reveal her core. We arrive at the house in the late evening hours, and are greeted by Luca and a group of his rowdy friends. There are two girls among them, scantily clad in scraps of fabric, wearing heavy makeup and perfume. Cara cowers behind me as we come close to them, and I marvel at her repulsion towards Luca. "I'm leaving, old man," Luca slaps me on the back with a big grin. "No more family time?" I mock him, raising my eyebrows. "Well, best of luck. I'm sure I'll hear from you when you need more money." Luca's eyes spark with anger, then zero in on Cara behind me. I reach for her and she grabs my arm needily. Is she afraid of him? As far as I know, nothing's happened between Luca and Cara, but the way she reacts to his presence is certainly worrisome. "I'll miss you, little thing," he tells her. "Can't say deflowering Mason's little pet wouldn't be fucking fun."

My hands tighten into fists as I say, "Get out." "Gladly." Luca glares at me for a second before gathering his group and leaving towards two vans parked outside the house. On his way out, he bumps his shoulder into me, hard, and I have to physically hold back before I slam him into the ground. Once we're alone, I lead Cara into the house. She's a little shaky, but it seems like there's some relief there too, after finally getting rid of Luca. Filippe serves us lasagna in the dining room, and we tuck into our meal hungrily, chatting about the things we saw during the day. It's mostly Cara talking, excitedly trying to remember every little fact I told her. When we're done eating, she seems hesitant to return to her room, but I want her to go so I can have some time alone with my thoughts. I walk her to her room, and she hesitates before walking inside. "You're not gonna disappear?" she asks me, and I give her an odd look, making her blush. "I just... I want to make sure you'll be here when I wake up tomorrow." "Of course I will be, Cara," I tell her softly, my hand touching the small of her back. She's really insecure for such a fucking brat. I lead her into her room, and just as I'm about to leave, she pulls me in for a kiss. She's desperate, trying to come off as confident but only convincing me she's too young for me, really. I pull away and kiss her hair instead. She's sulking already, pissed that I won't succumb to her feminine charms. I need to clear my fucking head, so I walk out of there, Cara's gaze glued to my back as I get out of her bedroom.

I INTEND ON SPENDING THE REST OF THE EVENING WORKING, BUT INSTEAD, I FIND MYSELF IN THE ROOM next to Cara's, watching her through the mirror like some fucking creep. She can't sleep either, pacing the length of the room and pulling at her pretty hair. I know she wants to come out and see me, but I made her promise she'd get some rest. But I know how she feels - the pull we feel toward each other is fucking electric, and I can't resist much longer. I watch her pull something out of her suitcase. It soon becomes obvious it's a lingerie set, a black sheer thing that makes my mind go wild. I push my chair away from the desk I'm sitting at and force myself to leave. This wasn't supposed to be this hard. Yes, I'd wanted Cara since the first time I saw her. Yes, I wanted to claim every inch of her... But she was having an effect on me, a dangerous one I'd thought no other woman would ever have.

I leave the room and head for my studio. I know it's time for the third painting. I get out my paints and prepare a clean canvas. I don't even give a shit if my expensive jeans get ruined, but it's hot and stuffy in the studio, so I strip off my shirt and open the rooftop window. I light a few candles even though I know it'll strain my eyes not to use a light instead. But I love working this way. I get to work. I paint her in the lingerie set, the way I imagine she looks in it. I know she'll come and find me soon. If she feels the same way I do, she won't be able to stay away for long. When I paint, I often forget about time. It's pitch black outside when I finally pull myself back and look at the canvas in front of me. The outline of Cara's small body faces me, the lingerie still needing to be painted on. Her back's turned towards me in the painting, her body dangerously addictive. Cara chooses that exact moment to come inside the studio, dressed in the lingerie set, no less. She's wearing fuck-me heels, tall and studded and black. I still tower over her. Her eyes find mine in the candlelit room and I realize she's shaking. "Come closer," I tell her softly. She drops to her knees. She crawls to me without being told to do so. My dick swells painfully in the jeans I'm still wearing. The way her ass moves when she crawls closer is intoxicating, and my eyes drink her in as she approaches me. She really is fucking stunning, a vision in her little outfit, her ass practically bare for my eyes only. She sits down on her knees in front of me, her trusting eyes on mine as I tip her chin back. "Couldn't sleep?" I ask her softly, and she shakes her head no. "Me neither, cara mia." Her eyes flicker with something that could be recognition. I wonder if she's figured it out by now. "You should be in bed," I tell her firmly, meaning to send her back to her room. "Let's get you back to your room." But she grabs my hand with both hands. Her little pink tongue parts her juicy lips and she licks the tips of my fingers tentatively, her eyes always on mine. "I don't want to," she says softly, and I frown. "You need to follow my rules here, or have you forgotten about that already?" I ask her pointedly. "Back to your room. Fucking. Now."

She gets up, angry and clumsy in her too-high heels, saying, "I know you want me to stay. Why are you fighting this?" "Why?" I snarl at her, reaching for her with my bare arms. I push her against the wall, my hands wrapping around her roughly. "You're too fucking young. You're my business partner's daughter. You're..." "In love with you," she finishes for me. All the color drains from her face when she realizes what she's said. She fights to get away from me, her little hands going to my hand around her throat. "What did you say?" I ask her roughly. "Stay fucking still, Cara." I'm not trying to choke her. I'm just holding her in place. But if she struggles too much, she's going to get both of us in fucking trouble. "Nothing," she mutters, a note of panic now present in her voice. "I didn't say anything. Let me go!" "Never," I growl, pressing my body against hers. Her curvy hips buck against mine, making me wonder how on earth her body can have such a strong response to mine. I've been nothing but cruel to her, save for today. I've punished, spanked and started to ruin her little body and yet... she can't fucking stay away. "You wanted to put on a little show for me?" I say into the shell of her ear. "This outfit, Cara. You buy that here?" She shakes her head no. Of course she didn't, today was the only time she's been out, and I was with her the whole time. "So you brought it from home," I taunt her. "What for, Cara? Why did you bring this sexy lingerie to stay with daddy's business partner?" She struggles in my strong arms, but I'm not letting go until she answers my question. "I hate you," she finally spits out once she realizes the struggling is futile. "Let me leave. I don't want to be here anymore." "Little liar," I tell her. I reach between her legs with my free hand. The fucking sinful panties she's wearing are soaked through, her pussy throbbing almost visibly. "Tell me why," I tell her again. "Why did you bring this stuff with you? Why did you come to Italy, cara mia?" "A boy," she finally gets out, her cheeks blushing deeply. "There was a boy..."

"Who?" I ask her, my grip loosening. She doesn't move though, admitting defeat as she sinks towards the floor. I wrap a hand around her waist before her ass hits the ground and lift her up. I'm going to get my fucking answers, and then I'm finally going to break her. Make her submit to me. "I talked to him online," she says in a shaky voice, making my cock even harder. "I came here so I could see him. He's Italian." "So he put this whole fucking idea in your head?" I ask her sweetly. "The trip to Italy, telling your dad you so desperately wanted to come here..." She gives me a desperate look, saying, "I... It was before I met you. I didn't know... what you were like." "So tell me right now, Cara," I keep taunting her, even though I know how this story ends. "If you'd have to pick between this boy and me, who would you pick? Right the fuck now." I can see the wheels in her head turning as she thinks it over. I give her time, but not too much. My grip on her throat tightens in warning as I wait for her answer. "You," she finally whispers. "I'd choose you." "What about the guy?" I ask softly. "Didn't you like him?" I think about all the messages, the texts we'd exchanged. I really fucking bared myself in some of them. I showed her a side of me a lot of people don't know. I have to know what she thought of him, the phantom Luca that made her come to Italy in the first place. "I..." She swallows hard. "I was in love with him... Before I came here." "Because you met me?" I ask her gently, and she nods. "His name is Luca," she blurts out. "Like... like..." "What's your middle name, Cara?" I interrupt her. "What?" She gives me a confused look. "I... It's Annabelle. Why? Why are you asking me this?" "Mine's Luca," I tell her darkly. Her eyes widen. The shock registers. She's starting to realize the game I played on her. When she finally gets it, she sinks into my arms. I'm there to catch her.

TWELVE

Mason

or a second, I'm sure she's going to pass out. But before Cara hits my arms, F she picks herself up, and next thing I know, she's shoving me away, her palms resting on my chest, her eyes blazing with anger.

"It was you?" she asks me, seething with rage. "It was you all along?" I nod, grinning at her. I don't think she'll take it too seriously, and her little outburst is adorable. Time to get it over with though, I have a few other things on my list of tasks for today. "You prick," she hisses. "How long? How long have you been playing me?" "Must be a year and a half now," I tell her simply. "I needed some time after your sixteenth to prepare. Wasn't sure what the best way to get you here was." "You're sick!" Her tone is accusatory and disgusted, and it stings a little. Perhaps it would sting more if her nipples hadn't tightened into hard little buds underneath the thin fabric of the bra she's wearing. "Get over it, Cara," I tell her calmly. "You wanted me since the moment you walked into this house. You even wanted me before you knew who I fucking was." "But..." She's trying to come up with something, anything - a reason to object and convince me I'm not right, but she's coming up empty. "You're such a jackass, Mason." I chuckle at her poor attempt at an insult, caging her body with mine. "I told you to call me Sir," I remind her with a smile on my face. "Fuck you," she snarls. And then the little slut spits at me. I've got her in my arms, turning her around before she can even understand what's

going on. She writhes against my embrace, but her perky little ass wiggling against my crotch is only making me more fucking intent on showing Cara her place. "You're going to regret that," I promise her. I rip off her panties with a single motion of my hand, and she gasps as I expose her pussy to the oppressing heat of the studio. Her bra follows next, and I rip it off her, leaving her chest naked and heaving. She presses her ass against my groin and I growl her name needily. Fuck, she's making me lose my focus. I don't stop stripping her until she's only wearing her garter belt and suspender stockings. She looks so fucking stunning it could make my damn heart stop, and I'm having trouble keeping my hands off her. "You like spitting, little girl?" I ask her roughly, and she stops struggling for a second. I can feel her heartbeat, fast and crazy loud. She looks at me from the corner of her eyes. "I didn't mean to," she says weakly, making me chuckle. "You didn't mean to go off on me?" I ask her. "I think you did. But that's okay, sweetheart. That's why I love you. You make me punish you so good, baby." I realize what I've said a second too late, just as Cara's body flattens against mine in anticipation. Knowing I have to distract her, I whip her around, my fingers wrapped tightly around her swan neck. "Open your whore mouth," I tell her, and she parts her lips in a sweet little O, making me laugh. "Gonna have to be wider than that, sweetheart." She blushes as I pull her down, undoing the zipper on my jeans with my free hand. I pull out my cock, hard and throbbing for her, my jeans falling to the floor. She gasps when I bare myself to her, and it only makes me twitch harder. "Spit on it," I tell her roughly, and she gives me an uncertain look. "Make it wet and slippery, baby, come on." She spits, a trickle of saliva dribbling from her mouth to my cock. I groan when it hits the sensitive tip of my dick, but her pathetic attempt is barely enough to get my shaft wet. "You did a better job before," I tell her sweetly. "Ran out of spit, baby?" She whimpers and I force her to her knees. My cock's precariously close to her lips and she opens her mouth hungrily, like she's desperate for a fucking taste. This is going to be hard to resist, but I have to. I have to punish her for what she did. I spit on my own cock, rubbing in the saliva over my whole length while she licks

her lips hungrily. My thumb is resting firmly in the crook of her neck, massaging the sweet spot there and feeling the vibrations of her throat. "Look up at me," I order her, and she complies right away. Her eyes are big and needy, begging for more. I'm sure she already knows what's coming next. "Please," she manages to get out. "Please what?" I fucking love teasing her. I'm never going to get sick of it. "I..." She blushes, cringing at the ideas running through her head. "I want to taste you." "Not a fucking chance, sweetheart," I tell her with a grin. "Now open your mouth." She does, and it's not enough. "Wider." She tries. She really does. Such a sweet little thing. I force her lips open with my free hand and she moans needily as she complies, sticking her tongue out and opening up so wide I could fit two cocks inside her if I wanted to. Instead, I tip her head back gently, and I spit into her mouth. She moans. It's incredible, the almost animalistic sound being ripped from her throat as she grinds her hips on her own legs, so needy she could get off from the friction alone. "Beg," I tell her simply. "For what?" she asks, her lashes fluttering open. She's licking her lips. Needy. Desperate. "Whatever you want right now." My thumb draws circles in the hollow of her throat. "Sir," she says softly, her eyes never leaving mine. "I want... I want you to fuck me." "Prove it," I demand. A flash of anger in her eyes, her fists tightening. And then a desperate, pleading look. "I remember the day I got here," she says with some trouble. "You said you don't like girls cursing unless you're fucking them." "That's true," I confirm. "What about it?"

"I..." Her cheeks are flaming red, but she keeps looking at me. "I want you to fuck me, Sir. I want you to fucking split my virgin pink pussy open and make me yours. I want your fucking cum in my cunt. I want you to spread me open and take what's yours-" I don't let her finish. I gather her in my arms and push her against the wall, and she wraps her dainty, pale legs around my waist. She's so fucking small, so frail, I'm worried she'll just snap and break. But the moans that are leaving her mouth now... Dirty, sensual and so fucking needy. I'd have to be a saint to stop in that moment. A fucking saint. The tip of my cock presses against her pussy lips and she mewls, nuzzling my neck with her hot little mouth. "Is it gonna hurt?" she asks. In that moment, she shows me how old she really is. Barely legal, Daddy's spoiled little girl. There's no going back after this. I know I'm never going to regret it. I can only hope she doesn't, either. "Yes," I promise her, and she sinks her teeth into my shoulder as I enter her. She's so tight it almost hurts going inside her, splitting her open and feeling her virgin juice spill down my thigh. Her legs wrap around my middle tightly and she lets out a small sob, making me want to stop. But fuck, her pussy's gripping me so damn tight I don't think I could pull out now, not even if I wanted to. "Shhh, it's okay, sweetheart," I tell her gently. I make her look at me, her eyes big and filled with tears. One tear lands on my mouth and I lick it, savoring the saltiness. Fuck, is she beautiful when she cries. I get harder and Cara whimpers as I stretch her, her sweet little pussy trying to adapt to my enormous size. "More," she whispers. "More, deeper. Make it hurt more." I try to go slow, but when she starts moving her hips with my thrusts, I nearly fucking lose it. My fingers wrap in her hair and I really start fucking her. So hard I can barely hear her sobs mixing with begging for more. God, she's incredible. Infucking-credible. She licks at every inch of my body, nibbling and biting and sucking at my neck, my face, my chest. She's clawing at me, her long talons leaving moon-shaped marks in my skin. And I don't give a shit. All I want, all I'm aware of, is her tight pink pussy that's currently so wet she's literally dripping down my groin. "Tell me if you want me to stop," I mutter into her hair, not knowing whether I could if she really did.

This is addicting. This is insane. This is it. What I've been waiting my whole life for. She screams, and I pull back, convinced I'm hurting her. But she throws her head back and her body pulsates, her fingernails clawing at me, desperate, needy. "Keep going," she begs. "You have to, you have to. I'm so close, Mason, I'm almost there." I don't even register my own shock, I just keep fucking her, my cock thrusting into her cunt so fast I can hear her arousal. I've never been with a girl this wet, this fucking tight. It's like the chemistry between us has gone apeshit with sparks flying all over the place. Cara clings to my neck, looking into my eyes and gasping. "I'm gonna cum for you, Sir," she promises, her breathing heavy. "I'm gonna cum right now." "Go on, sweetheart," I groan. "Cum for me, right on the tip of my cock. Go on, baby." She lets out the longest moan and then she's shaking. I forget about everything. Every fucking thing. I forget about the shit at work, about Luca, about her being too young. I forget about the fact I'm not wearing a condom and I don't have a fucking clue if she's protected. And I don't give a shit, either. I feel myself spurting, slowly at first. It sends Cara into a frenzy, and she comes like crazy. I try to pull out, but she claws her way back, nearly toppling us over as she impales herself on my cock, making me groan and curse and spurt so deep inside her it makes her blush. I can't even come down from the insane orgasm when she climbs off me carefully, gasping for air. She collapses to her knees as I run my fingers through her hair, and she sucks my cock into her mouth. "Jesus fucking shit, Cara," I curse out loud. Looking down into her eyes makes me get hard again, and the last few drops of my orgasm leak from my tip into her wet whore mouth. She closes her eyes and moans needily as she drinks from my cock. Her hand goes between her legs and she toys with her pussy, bringing up her fingers to taste the cum I pumped inside her. I just fucking stare at her, smoothing down her sweaty blonde hair. She's so beautiful. "Good girl," I tell her absentmindedly, and she giggles. She sucks my cock between her lips, so deep she almost chokes and makes me pull back in alarm. But she won't let go. She deep-throats my cock until I think I'm

about to die, just so she can get the last, very fucking last, drop of my cum from deep inside me. And then she pulls back, licking her lips daintily and smiling up at me. "I think you mean good whore," she says with a wink.

THIRTEEN

Cara

I t's finally happened. He's finally made me into a woman.

That night, I sleep in his bed. His hand between my legs, pressing hard against my mound. He breathes deep and low breaths, and I lie awake all night thinking about what happened, what he said. That's why I love you. I didn't imagine it, did I? He really said it, and then he tried to distract me as quickly as possible to make me forget he really said it. But I remember the words rolling off his lips, the way he rushed to cover them up. I decide not to mention it. Better to pretend I never heard anything. He's going to tell me when he's ready... and even though it stings, knowing I already told him I was falling for him, I know I have to be patient. I wake up to an empty bed, the sheets rumpled and the AC humming softly in the cool room. Goosebumps prickle my skin at the sudden drop in temperature as I climb out of the bed. Mason's nowhere to be seen. I have breakfast by myself, spooning oatmeal into my mouth and thinking about the previous day. I really shouldn't be. I should be focusing on the present, not on yesterday. He might even act like nothing ever happened between us... The mere thought of that makes me panic and I grip my spoon firmly between my fingers. Surely, he wouldn't do that? Not after the fucking connection we had, not after I let him cum inside me. I'm on the pill, but Mason doesn't know. He never asked me when he was fucking me, and I didn't let him pull out, either. I don't know whether that makes our night together special or just plain dangerous. I spend the day wandering around the grounds. Filippe makes my meals, but it seems like I'm alone in the house. My mind is swimming with everything that

happened - Mason confessing he was the one sending me messages. So it wasn't Luca after all. I feel relieved, and embarrassed I ever thought it was him. As the day drags on and on, I begin to get upset. Why is he not here? Why is he not taking care of me, making sure I'm alright after last night? Maybe he doesn’t care anymore... maybe he lost his interest now that he's had me. It's tough to concentrate on anything but the negative thoughts taking over my brain. I try to convince myself he'll come back, but as the hours pass, it becomes more and more obvious I'm waiting in vain. I spend the rest of the evening in the gardens, skipping dinner. I don't ask Filippe about Mason's whereabouts, and he doesn't elaborate. But thin lines of worry are etched into his face, making him appear somber and serious. It makes me worry even more. After the sun goes down, I walk towards the walled-in garden. As a force of habit, I check the overgrown door leading inside it, and I'm shocked to find it open. I haven't been here since the night Mason caught me, and it makes me wonder if he forgot to lock the door that night... or maybe he left it open on purpose. For me. I cling to the thought as I walk inside. The garden is silent and beautiful in the dusk of day. There are insects buzzing, and I find a bird's nest in one of the gnarled olive trees in there. Finally, I settle on the bench where Mason made me cum, and I lose myself to the world of my fantasies. I've never paid much attention to why I am the way I am. I guess not having a mother does play into it - I've always known my dad spoiled me because I only had one parent. I think of myself as quite intelligent, knowing I'll always get what I want if I play my cards right. But with Mason... it makes me different. It makes me want to be real, not lie constantly and cover up the little untruths that have a tendency to spill from my mouth. It makes me want to lose control for once in my life. I don't know how much time I spend in the garden, but when I get up to leave, it's pitch dark outside. I smooth down my simple, long dress. I'm wearing it over my bikini as I had planned on testing out the pool tonight - something I've longed to do for a while now. But the day passed faster than I intended it to. I wonder if I could take a night dip. I head to the pool in the back of the house and look around to make sure I'm alone. Then, I strip off my dress, and on second thought, my bikini too. I dive into the pool, relishing the feeling of the cool water against my skin.

I swim, I float, I let the water wash away my worries. I don't notice that I'm crying until I hear a splash. I stand on my toes, panic taking over as I see a body in the water. Instinctively, I cover up my pussy and my tits, my chest heaving with suppressed panic. A male form emerges from the water. I know right away who it is, and as he wipes away the water from his face and grins at me, I know this won't end well. "Hello, Cara," he says sweetly, but he's slurring his words. "Luca," I say in a shaky voice. "Do you mind? I... I don't have a swimsuit on." He approaches me, the water making his movements painfully slow. "How delicious," he says. "Let's play now, Cara." I scramble to get away from him, a million thoughts racing through my mind. What is he doing here? Didn't he leave last night? Mason wouldn't want us alone together. I think he doesn't trust Luca. Mason. Where is Mason? I push my feet off the ground, trying to get outside of the pool desperately. Any notion of shame at Luca seeing me naked is forgotten as I realize there is a bigger risk at play. He wants to hurt me. I've known that since the first time I met him. It's what made me so uncomfortable around him. He makes a grab for me, reaching towards my naked skin. His fingers brush my hip and I scream, loud and scared and panicked. I try to run in the cool water, but my foot slips on the slippery floor of the pool, and I crash face first into the pool. Strong arms wrap around me, one of them going to my face and covering up my mouth with a thick, meaty palm. I scream into his hand but no sound comes out, only muffled whispers. Luca pulls me towards him, makes me face him and stares me down with a cruel, glazed-over look on his face. If I wasn’t sure he was drunk before, it’s painfully obvious now. His breath it tinged with alcohol, he reeks of booze. He holds me

down firmly and I struggle in his arms. “What’s so special about you, then?” Luca’s slurring at me. “You must have a magic fucking pussy if it made the old man like you this much.” My cheeks burn up as he reaches for my throat, his nasty fingers wrapping around my neck and choking me. Hot tears of helplessness fall from my eyes, stinging my cheeks on the way down. “Get your fucking hands off her, NOW!” Someone’s yell interrupts us, and Luca lets go of me like he’s been burned. We turn to face the garden, where Mason is pulling off his clothes before diving into the water. I sob, unable to stop my body from heaving from what I’ve just experienced. Mason resurfaces and grabs Luca by the throat as I retreat out of the pool, grabbing a towel I’d brought with me earlier and wrapping my shivering naked body inside it. The two men are fighting in the pool, throwing punches at one another. Mason’s got the upper hand – he’s bigger, broader, and he’s pissed. I shiver on the lounge chair, retreating somewhere deep inside of myself as the two take it out on each other. I don’t know how much time has passed when Mason emerges with Luca from the pool, holding him down with disgust. Luca has a bloody nose – maybe even broken. He’s crying like a child. “You’re leaving,” Mason tells him. “Right the fuck now. And you’re not coming back.” “You can’t kick me out,” Luca groans, wiping the blood from his face. “Can’t I?” Mason snarls, pulling him closer by the throat and making the younger man groan in pain. “I don’t owe you shit, little boy. And when you pick on her,” he gestures towards me, “you’re picking on my fucking property. I don’t want to see you near her again.” He pushes Luca to the ground and I look away when the man tries to make eye contact. I can’t stand to look at him, not after he scared me so badly. “You’re picking her over me?” Luca asks angrily. “She’s just a piece of fucking ass, Mason! When are you going to realize that, old man?” “Get. The fuck. Out.” Mason emphasized every word with a jab in Luca’s throat, and the younger man laughs bitterly. “Call me when you’re alone again,” he says to Mason and storms off, his clothes dripping with water from the pool.

Mason approaches me as soon as Luca is gone from the garden. He gathers me in his arms and lifts me up. “You can’t carry me,” I protest softly. “I’m too heavy for that.” “Shut up,” he says gently. “You weigh nothing.” He carries me inside the house, into his own bedroom. He dries me off with the towel, wrapping my hair up and putting PJs on me like he’s dressing a little doll. He tucks me into bed and climbs in along with me, his fingers trailing a line down my arms. “Where were you?” I ask him. “I didn’t know… I thought you left me here by myself.” “I had to deal with some shit,” Mason says roughly. “Luca… he got into a fight at some bar. I had to go intervene. I had no idea he’d come back here, sweetheart. He was gone by the time I got there.” I sniffle and he pulls me tightly against his chest, crushing me on top of him. I climb on top of his strong, muscular body, and Mason’s hands go to my hips, holding me in place as I settle down. “Don’t leave me again,” I beg him. “Never,” he mutters in my hair.

FOURTEEN

Cara

few days later, as we're having lunch, Mason tells me he wants to take me out. I A get excited right away, remembering the trip we took to Venice and hoping for something similar.

"Where are we going?" I ask right away, finishing off my plate of chicken salad. "I can't tell you," he grins at me. "That would just spoil the surprise, wouldn't it?" I pout, but only for a little while. We've spent every hour of the past few days together, trying to put what happened with Luca behind us. I think it's working, and it's making us grow closer as well. "Meet me downstairs at seven p.m. sharp," Mason tells me, and I nod. A million other questions race through my mind and I have to bite my lip before they slip from my tongue. Where are we going in the evening? Will we spend the night there? Will there be other people?" Mason's leaving the room, but as an afterthought, he turns around and grins at me. "I want you to wear a skirt," he tells me. "Your sluttiest, shortest one." I blush, but find myself nodding nonetheless. "And, sweetheart?" I look up at him, my cheeks burning up. He grins, showing me his perfect smile and making me get wet on that dining room chair. "Underwear is not optional. I want your ass bare in that skirt." With that, he leaves the dining room, leaving me guessing.

I SPEND THE REST OF THE DAY FINDING AN APPROPRIATE OUTFIT. OF COURSE, I KNOW WHAT I SHOULD WEAR the whole time I'm digging through my suitcases. But it's just a little bit too much too revealing, too sexy. My dad would kill me if he saw me in it. In the end, I decide I don't really have a choice. I have to wear my shortest skirt, like Mason said. If I don't, he's going to find out somehow and punish me for disobeying. I bring out the black leather miniskirt. It's short as hell, and I don't even know what I was thinking, bringing it with me. It's so not my style. Still, I slip it on along with a frilly white blouse that's cropped in the front. I don't really have anything that goes with it. I obey Mason's orders and don't put on a bra or panties. But on second thought, I go for a pair of fishnets I bought in secret back at home with one of my girlfriends. It'll help me feel less naked. The car is waiting for us as I come downstairs. It's Mason's usual ride, the black one that almost looks like a limo. Filippe doesn't comment on my outfit as he opens the back door for me, even though my cheeks are burning up. I'm thankful that he chooses to ignore what's going on here. I climb into the backseat, and a strong hand guides me in. Sitting down on the plush leather of the chair, I blush as my eyes meet Mason's. "My, my," he says roughly. "Don't you look like a fucking dream, princess. Always have loved a girl in fishnets." He's wearing a suit - so expensive I'm almost worried to touch it. The sharp contrast between our outfits is jarring and makes me question where we're going once again. "It's going to be quite a long ride, sweetheart," he tells me. "So sit down next to me and let me talk to you for a little while." I do as I'm told and he tickles my arm, making me giggle. "Cat got your tongue?" Mason teases me. "No, I just..." I feel like I'll never stop blushing. "I just feel so... exposed." "Good." His reply is simple. The car pulls out of the driveway and we're on our way. I want to focus on the landscape outside the car window, but I find myself sneaking glances at Mason instead. The partition separating us from Filippe is up, and I feel safer knowing he can't see or hear us. "I wanted to tell you something," Mason says. He's running a hand through my hair absentmindedly. I remembered him saying

he liked it down and left it natural today, just freshly washed and falling in big waves down my shoulders. "What is it?" I ask him, genuinely curious. "It's about Luca." His words make me freeze on the spot, but Mason coaxes me into his lap, smoothing down my hair. I mewl, feeling the hardness of his cock between his legs, only a scrap of fabric separating it from my pussy. God, I want him. "I don't want to talk about him," I say weakly. "I really don't... Sir." He groans, obviously pleased I've remembered to address him properly. "I do," he says, as if it's as simple as that. "So we're going to talk about it, right the hell now." I squirm on his lap, but he grabs ahold of my wrists and makes me sit up straight on his lap. "I was married to Luca's mother," he tells me roughly. "She was older than me, about ten years. I met her at a business event and fell in love. I was pretty young. Pretty fucking stupid." I want him to go on, every pause he takes between sentences feeling like a cold shower. Finally, he speaks up again. "Luca was hers, from her first marriage. She never really gave a shit about him, though," he says. "And I had no clue how to raise a kid. Fuck, I wasn't even thirty at the time. I still have no idea." He rocks me on his hips and I listen to his hypnotizing voice, hoping he'll share more with me. And he does. "She... she left me after a few years," he explains. "She left Luca, as well. Said she'd give me money if I took care of the kid. I agreed. I needed to invest in some business, and the money she gave me helped." His hands form fists and I can tell he's not pleased about how it went down. "So he's been living with me, though he's really at school most of the time," he finishes. "And he's troubled. The thing with his mom... it's fucked him up. I don't know if he'll ever be normal. Not that the rest of us are." He quietens down and I play with a button on his shirt. "Why didn't you tell me sooner?" I want to know, and Mason shrugs, giving me an intense look. "I didn't want you to know about my dirty past," he says. "I didn't want you to

think I was some kind of slimy bastard. I've repayed her all the money. I make enough by myself now, but Luca... he doesn't really have another place to go." I nod and press myself closer to his chest. I can hear the steady thumps of his heart and it makes me feel safe. We stay like that for a wile, my head resting on him, listening to his heartbeat. We've been driving for ages, but I don't really mind. "Cara," Mason finally says, and I stir from the state I'm in. "Sit back on your chair. I want to play a game with you now, sweetheart." I do as I'm told, feeling my pussy tingle as I climb off him and onto the car seat. "Take your tits out for me," Mason orders me, and I shiver under the weight of his order. "N-now?" I'm hesitating, but my fingers are already poised over the buttons of my blouse. "Now," he nods. I undo them slowly, one at a time. I don't take the blouse off, but I let it part and reveal my little tits to him, my puffy pink nipples tightening into buds under his watchful eyes. "Pretty girl," Mason murmurs, leaning over to me. "Such a pretty fucking girl." He's got his mouth pressed against my ear, his fingers gently going to my chest. I gasp, really loudly. "Shhh," Mason coos. "Quiet now, baby. Don't want Filippe to hear, do you?" I shake my head no and he starts caressing my skin, long, barely-there touches of my skin. Never on my nipples. All over my chest and down my tummy. I feel the familiar tingle between my legs, realizing my pussy's getting really fucking wet. He toys with me, touching me so lightly I can almost convince myself I'm imagining it. "I want to strip you naked," he whispers in my ear. "Right here. Make Filippe pull over and fuck you on the hood of this car, parting your whore legs wide and sliding into that pussy." I mewl, feeling myself drip on the plush leather of the chair. "More," I beg him in the smallest voice. "I want more, please." "Beg pretty, sweetheart," Mason grins against my ear. "Please, Sir," I mumble. "Please, touch me some more, say more things to make me wet."

"I want to feel your wetness," he tells me. "Lick it, taste it, fucking feel it, princess. I want to sink my cock into your pussy and feed it to you later so you can taste yourself on my dick. I want to claim your sweet little ass." I squirm at his words, making Mason chuckle. "I'm going to do it eventually, baby," he promises me. "I'm going to own all of your holes." He keeps running his fingers along my skin and, combined with the whispered promises, it's driving me fucking insane. I'm realizing I'm going to leave a wet mark on the car seat when I get out, and it makes me blush even more. Just then, I realize the car's come to a stop. Mason grins at me and opens the door. I try to look outside and see where we are, but it's already gotten dark. We must've been driving for a while. Mason opens the door on my side, and offers me a hand to help me climb out of the car. I accept it gratefully, covering my naked ass. It makes Mason laugh. As soon as I'm out, I try to close the door, hide the wet mark I've left on his seat. But Mason notices it right away, and his eyes light up with mischief. "Filippe's not gonna be pleased about that soaked seat," he tells me, and I blush. I finally take a moment to look around us. We're in front of a house, and there's a long line of people waiting to be let inside. They're all staring at us, all of them in expensive clothes, ball gowns and tuxedos. I flush with embarrassment at my outfit, at what I'd done in the car. "I think you'll have to apologize," Mason tells me, and before I can stop him, he calls out for his driver. "Filippe, Cara here had a little accident in the car." The driver looks at me blankly, and I blush so much I'm sure I'll just catch on fire. "I..." I can't even get the words out. "I'm sorry for ruining your seat." "Go on, sweetheart, tell him what happened," Mason prompts me. "I..." I give him a helpless look, but he's unrelenting. "I let my pussy drip all over the car seat." "Good fucking girl," Mason tells me. Filippe walks away and I can feel dozens of eyes on me as Mason comes closer. "I hate you," I tell him, and he chuckles. "I know, sweetheart," he says simply. "You're about to hate me a whole lot more, though."

I give him a blank look and he grins at me. "Get down on your knees and lick the seat clean," he says lazily. "Right the hell now. We're already late." I can feel the eyes on me, all the people standing in line. I don't know any of them and they don't know me. But they're going to remember this, that's for sure. I want to protest, but the thought of getting on my knees, exposing my cunt to everyone here, is somehow turning me on. Keeping my eyes trained on Mason, I sink to my knees on the asphalt. I turn around and brace my palms on the seat, fully aware that my pussy is out on display. I lean over and slowly start licking at the supple leather, tasting my own pussy on the seat. The fact he didn't give me a choice is almost liberating. I feel eyes on me and it almost makes me cum. I hold it back, but a long moan is ripped from my throat as I clean the car seat with my tongue. "Good girl," Mason tells me, the pride obvious in his voice. "Such a good girl. Now it's time to go inside, sweetheart. Let's get this party started."

FIFTEEN

Mason

B efore we head inside, I have a final surprise for Cara.

I walk her to the top of the stairs leading into the house, past the crowd gathering outside and waiting to be let in. When we're standing at the doorway, loud music blasting through the door, I reach for her swan-like neck, wrapping my big hands over it. I move her hair out of the way and she looks at me with those big, innocent eyes that are making me swell in my trousers. "I bought you something special," I tell her, and her face lights up. Underneath it all, Cara's still just a little girl that gets excited about pretty shiny things. It makes me chuckle as I pull a velvet box from my pocket. "What is it?" she asks excitedly, and I motion for her to open the box. Her hands shake as she reaches forward, slowly moving the lid of the box up. I look into her eyes as she stares into the jewelry laid out on a white silk surface. "Sir," she gasps. "Would you like me to put it on?" I ask her, and she nods excitedly. I take the body chain out of the box and place it back in my pocket. I walk behind her and kiss Cara's neck softly. She melts under my lips. "You'll have to take your shirt off for this, sweetheart," I mutter against her skin. Her hands shake as she undoes the buttons of her blouse, right there, in front of fucking everyone. I'm so damn proud of her. She hasn't questioned me once. I let my hands wander down her creamy skin, across her nipples and down her tummy. She arches her back against my chest and pulls off the blouse. I slip the body chain around her, thumbing the pretty Murano glass beads. It was the real reason I took her to see Massimo that day - I wanted him to make something perfect for Cara, just for tonight.

The glass is cool and sexy as hell against my little girl. The body chain closes around a collar for her neck and she looks up at me with adoring eyes as I lock it in place. "Such a pretty slut," I tell her softly, caressing her pretty face. "Now get on your knees, sweetheart." Her eyes dart to the people crowding the entrance, all of them in expensive clothes and heels, a sharp contrast to her little outfit. Then, she bends down until she's on her knees, her eyes always on mine. If I'm not fucking careful, I'm going to cum in my damn pants. I lean down and pull a little chain from my pocket, carefully attaching it to her collar. She licks at my fingers when I brush them against her lips. I pull on the leash tightly and she crawls up to my leg, rubbing against my pants as I walk her inside the house. A bouncer opens the front door for us and then we're in. It's dark inside, with only a few spotlights here and there. There are people milling about and they all stop when they see me. Cara shrinks back behind my legs and I pet her, gently touching her pretty hair. We walk inside, me comfortably and confidently, and Cara crawling like the sexy little pet she is. I don't stop until we've reached out destination. When we get there, I help Cara climb on the armchair I've prepared for her. She pulls her knees up to her chest and gives me a scared little look that sends chills down my spine as people gather around us. "She's exquisite," someone commends me, and Cara blushes at the words. "It was well-worth the wait," a woman's voice, this time. "I can't wait to see her come alive." "She'll look pretty in tears." I reach for Cara, running my thumb across her lips. She's high on the adrenaline, and she looks into my eyes when she licks the tip of my finger. "Cara mia," I tell her simply. "Remember when I told you I was going to have an exhibition for my art?" She nods slowly, sucking on my finger, licking it in a way that makes me want to be inside her already. "Well, you're in it. I'm going to paint you here today," I explain. "The last portrait in your series. Innocence. Yearning. Submission. And today, Domination." Her eyes are fiery and I don't really know whether she's angry or excited. Probably

a little bit of both. "Will you be a good girl for me and show my friends your pretty pussy?" I ask her, and her cheeks turn bright red. No one's allowed to touch her. All these people are friends, people I've known for a long time. I'm not going to let anyone hurt her. But this is the final step - little Cara Newton becoming so submissive she lets me have her in front of anyone. She parts her legs slowly as I kneel down in front of her, arranging her cute skirt. "Wider," I whisper against her thigh, and she obliges. "Wider. More, baby, more." I don't let her stop until her legs are on either arm of the chair, her pussy exposed. She's breathing heavily, her eyes glazed over. "You're gonna follow my directions now," I tell her, leaving a kiss on the inside of her thigh and making her shiver. "So be a good girl for me and put your hands on your neck.” I take my paints and set up in front of the canvas so I can get started. There's a crowd around us, people Cara will never see again. People she can bare herself to, because that's what she was made to do. I start to paint.

I DON'T KNOW HOW MANY HOURS PASSES. LIKE EVERY OTHER TIME I'VE PAINTED, THE TIME SLIPS AWAY from me and I get lost in my canvas, my paints, my muse. There's something special going on with Cara, too. She's living for this, breathing for the adrenaline rush of being sprawled naked like this for all these people. She's never looked beautiful, and it's as if there's a glow coming from within her, coloring her in beauty like I've never seen before. Her eyes are fixed on me, boring into my gaze and demanding I return the look. I barely have time to look at my canvas, I'm so fucking mesmerized by her. All I want is to stare at her, but I know I have to capture this beauty, this last shred of innocence she has, on canvas forever. I paint her the way she's going to look in a few minutes when I'm finished. With my hand in her mouth, hooking my thumb between her lips and making her suck it. A look of complete submission on her face. I can't wait to make her mine completely.

It looks like she's completely forgotten about all the people around us. She's looking at me only, and her sweet pink pussy is glistening with wetness. She's turned on, she likes this. It makes me unbearably horny, and I finish my painting in a rush. The crowd parts when I move towards here, people milling about and making way for me to come to the armchair. I kneel in front of her, Cara's pussy laid out for me like an exquisite fucking dinner. I lick at the inside of her thigh, and in that moment, we're alone in the room. Just me and her, about to come together in the most carnal way possible. From this day on, she's mine, completely and utterly. "You did so well, cara mia," I tell her softly, pulling on the leash she's still wearing. It makes her arch her back from the chair and push her hips against my chin. I can fucking smell her, her heat and unbearable sweetness making my mouth fucking water. "Do I get a reward?" she asks, earning a tight tug on the leash around her neck. It makes her giggle, and it makes my cock swell impossibly in my trousers in return. "Be careful, little girl," I tell her. "Or you might get what you're wishing for." "Please," she mewls, right away turning into the submissive little slut I know her to be. "Give me what I deserve, Sir. You know you want to." I growl and then my mouth is on her. She gasps as I suck her clit between my lips, biting down gently on her sweetness and letting her amazing peachy taste wash over my mouth. She rocks her hips in my arms and I fucking eat her out because I can't stand not having her in my mouth anymore. I need to taste her on my tongue, I need to feel her dripping into my mouth. I'm going to lose it otherwise. "Sir," she gasps, over and over again. "Oh my fucking god, please, I want to cum." I can barely hear the people behind us, watching us and murmuring to one another. I briefly wonder how many guys are dealing with the same tightness in their pants as I am. How many of them wish they were in my place, men and women alike. "Cum then, baby," I tell her softly. "Cum on my tongue, let me taste that sweet little pussy." Her eyes flutter closed and her hand moves between those whore legs. I smack it away when she tries to touch herself. She's so damn desperate to get off now, she'd do pretty much everything just to cum. Exactly how I want her. Her body's twitching, her pussy pulsating against my mouth. Her hands go to her tits instead and she tries desperately to suck on her own nipple, but she can't reach it. She's a fucking sight, and I can't keep my eyes off her as I fill my mouth with that delicious cunt.

"Good fucking girl," I praise her as she starts to raise her hips from the armchair she's sitting in. "Now cum for me." She only needed to hear those four words. She comes apart loudly, moaning and screaming her release as she collapses in my arms, grinding her pretty cunt all over my face. I realize the orgasm isn't stopping, and push three fingers so deep inside her pussy she cries out. I fuck her relentlessly, never giving her a chance to take a breath. Her slutty leather skirt is riding high on her waist, exposing her soaked pussy to everyone in the room. I curl my fingers inside her and she screams. And then she fucking squirts. I keep my fingers curled up inside her cunt and drink from her, the sweetness leaking from her little pussy to fucking sweet for me to pass up. I lap at her, bite her clit, I make sure she's licked fucking clean when she's done. But she can't stop cumming, can't stop thrusting her hips into my face and begging in a small, broken voice, for me to fuck her. I step away, feeling dozens of eyes on me as I walk behind Cara. Once again, I put a finger in her mouth and pull out a flogger I've chosen for the occasion. She's never tasted pain before. I did spank her, it left her ass marked for a few days, but it was nothing compared to all the other things I wanted to do to her. Now, I let the leather tassels of the flogger glide along her tits, making her cum again and again. "Sweet little girl," I tell her. "You're so fucking perfect, you know that?" "Yes, Sir," she gasps. "Yes... Perfect for you. Keep going. My pussy, please." I let the flogger wander lower, gently slapping her cunt with the tassels and letting her feel their sting - pleasant for now. "Who owns you?" I ask her softly, caressing her mouth. She opens her eyes, and if I wasn't a gone man before, I sure as fucking hell am now. She's got the sweetest, most submissive look on her face. As sweet as her dirty little cunt. "You do," she promises me in a whisper. "I'm yours." I hit her now, the flogger making her hiss as it connects with one nipple after the other. "Who owns this body?" I ask her. "You do," she moans. "It's all yours, Sir."

I circle the flogger along her cunt. "You want me to fuck you, princess?" "Yes," she gets out. "Yes, fucking please." "Cum," I order her, and she does as I slap her clit with the flogger. She looks so fucking stunning when she comes apart it messes with my plans. I let the flogger fall to the ground and for the first time, I remember we're not alone. I look up at everyone staring at us. Those horny faces, the men hoping for a turn, the women wishing they could join. And I scream at the top of my voice. "Fucking get out of here." In the silence that follows, I know my exhibitions are over. I've made her submit. I've broken her. But now she's all fucking mine. I rip my clothes off as Cara convulses in her orgasm on the chair and Filippe starts leading people outside with an apologetic smile. I ignore the glances being thrown over shoulders, the loud protests as people are rushed and ushered out of the fucking house. I'm too fucking hard to even think about us being alone. I lift her off the seat and sit down myself, placing Cara on my lap. "Ride," I order her in a rough, hoarse voice. "Fucking ride me, sweetheart." She lets out a sweet, needy moan as she sinks that pretty cunt on my cock. She starts moving her hips and it feels like magic sparking between us. She's got my cock so deep I can feel a wall on every side of me, her pussy devouring me as she rides, her thick juice spilling down my groin. I've never seen her like this. So out of control, so beautiful, so fucking vulnerable at the same time. She rides like she was made to do this, even though she's so fucking clumsy it's cute as she tries to get my dick deeper inside her. "You're fucking perfect, princess," I tell her roughly. "Fucking perfect." She nuzzles her mouth against my neck just as I hear the front doors of the house closing. We're alone now. She's passed my test and she's my perfect little toy now, always mine. My fingers tighten along her leash and I tug on it every few seconds, making her gasp desperately every time. She's so damn perfect I just want to spill everything I have inside of her, but I keep holding myself back. I can't let go yet, need to watch her ride me for a while longer, because this is a memory I'll remember forever. "Mason," she whispers, and my skin prickles with goosebumps. I don't correct her, not this time. We're alone now, but even then, I might've

scolded her for not saying Sir. Not today though, not right now. My real name feels fucking perfect on her slutty lips. "Mason, please," she begs now. "Cum inside me. I need you filling me up or I'm going to lose it, please, Sir, please..." I grab her hips and start fucking her harder than ever, making her gasp so loudly it sounds like she's screaming. "Good fucking girl," I growl in her ear. "Such a good girl for me, keep going, let me fill that pretty pussy up, let me come undone in that cunt, sweetheart." "Please, Mason," she's breaking down, I can feel it. I tug on her leash again, really fucking gently this time because she makes me want to be careful with her. She seems so fucking vulnerable sometimes, I'm worried I'm just going to break her. And then she comes apart, starting to cry the moment she cums, sobbing and gasping for air as my cock swells impossibly, pulsing inside her tightness. "Fucking please," she keeps saying. "Please, Mason, more, don't stop, I'm gonna pass out." My arms wrap around her, I'm fucking worried but I can barely stop myself now. She moves her lips to mine fervently, barely able to suck a kiss from my mouth. "Don't stop," she whispers. "Don't stop fucking me if I pass out, Mason." "Jesus," I groan against her mouth, feeling myself starting to spill inside her little hole, long ropes of cum shooting from the tip of my cock and painting her pussy from the inside. "Jesus Cara, are you okay?" She yelps when I cum inside her, and for the last time, whispers a 'please' against my lips, and then she goes fucking limp in my arms. I feel her heartbeat, I know she's fucking fine, but my conscience won't let me keep pounding inside her. But my cock has a different idea and as hard as I try to make myself stop, I can't anymore. I finish inside her, so damn needy I hold her up with one hand and jack my cock off inside her cunt with the other. She comes to with a little mewl, desperately trying to kiss me as I shower her in my cum. I can barely move by the time I'm done, her used cunt dripping on my groin with every breath we take together, my cock still rock hard inside her. "Your cunt is mine," I whisper against her mouth. "You're fucking mine, Cara." "Yes," she promises me, sliding down my cock one last time and milking the last

few drops with her impossibly tight, swollen pussy. "All yours."

SIXTEEN

Cara 1 MONTH AGO

been a week since the exhibition and Mason’s fucked me every day since. I t’s He’s made me cum more times than I can count, and it seems like the man

always has something new in store for me, making me cum in so many ways I never imagined existed. It’s one of the last steamy hot summer days, and we’re lying by the pool. His hands are trailing over my body, gently soothing the welts he put into my skin the night before. I stretch out for him like a kitty cat, my naked body glistening from the heat of the day. "Cara," Mason mutters against my ear, and I arch my back, mewling softly because I want to get closer to him, but his firm grip on my hips won't let me budge an inch. "I want to try something very special with you today." My eyes fly open and I look into his handsome face. His features are shadowed and the sun beats into my eyes over his shoulders. He's like a god, my own Hades, and I want to be his Persephone even if it means I'll be dragged to the depths of hell for him. "What is it?" I ask softly, a little bit worried even though I already know I'm going to agree to whatever is on his mind. Maybe that's why I'm scared. "Do you trust me?" he asks me, and I let my body go soft and willing in his arms as he waits for his answer. I think about the question for a little while, letting it simmer in my mind. Do I trust him? I would let him hurt me, and I have. I know he knows what my limits are better than I do. I would let him fuck me mercilessly, until I pass the fuck out, and I've done that too. I would let him love me, and treasure me, and punish me as he saw fit, and I've done that the most.

"Yes," I reply simply, and there is not a doubt in my mind that what I'm saying is the truth. "Good," he says, his fingers trailing over my collarbone, down the sensitive skin of my stomach and over my tits, making my nipples pebble and my lips part in a desperate gasp for more. "That's good, cara mia. We need that for what we're about to do." Suddenly, he grips my neck hard and picks me up as if I weigh nothing. I let out a surprised gasp, but apart from that, I let him do whatever he wants with me. My body goes slack in his arms and makes me feel like a puppet. I'd gladly place my strings in his hands. I trust this man with my life. I had been lying on the warm tiles by the pool, but he puts me on my knees and I obediently cross my hands at the wrists behind my back. His hand doesn't leave the back of my neck and I open my mouth needily, sticking my tongue out. I want a taste of him, need a shot of Mason down my throat. But he doesn't do what I expect him to, doesn't fill my mouth with a hot load of his cum. Instead, he forces my head down and makes me look at my reflection in the pool. "Such a pretty slut," he mutters, and I whimper, looking at our image in the pool. "I don't want to hurt you today, Cara. You understand that, don't you?" "Yes," I whisper back, my eyes going to his, full of trust and love. "Good," he says soothingly, and I offer him a tentative smile. He smiles back and smoothes down my hair. Then, he plunges me face first into the pool in front of me. My first instinct is to panic. I open my mouth and I scream in the water, letting all the oxygen out of my lungs and filling them with water instead. He pulls me out by my hair and I gasp and cry at the same time, taking grateful lungfuls of air through my mouth and gasping through the sobs wracking my body. "Don't panic," he tells me calmly. "Just be a good girl, Cara. I'm not trying to hurt you, you know that, right? I won't let anything happen to you." "Yes," I manage to get out, but I'm still sobbing. Sobbing like a fucking animal, scared and raw and vulnerable because I'd thought we'd done anything and everything, and he keeps throwing all this stuff at me, stuff that scares me and stuff that makes me scream and stuff that tests limits I didn't think I had. "Yes, I-I know you won't." Mason leans his body against mine and I relax, feeling his muscles strain against my skin. "Want to try again?" he asks me gently, and I start nodding almost hysterically, unable to stop myself. "Okay, baby girl. Relax, nothing bad is going to happen, I promise."

He plunges me back into the water, slower this time. I open my eyes inside the pool but I don't panic this time. I try to save my breath even though panic is threatening to tear down all the walls inside my head. My heart pumps into overdrive and I'm panicking again, so fucking scared I kick my legs out on the surface. He pulls me out and I sputter and scream. "See, what a good fucking girl you are," he coos at me and I stop crying, I just listen to his voice, and I need it, and I need him, and I need more of this awful torture. What does that make me? I'm a fucking masochist, I'm fucked up, I'm broken. And I don't give a hell. "Please," I beg. "Do it again, do it again." "Okay, pretty thing," he promises softly, and my head goes into the water again. This time, instead of letting the panic take over, I try to hold on to the feeling I had before I came up for air last time. That fleeting but oh-so-precious moment of pure bliss before he lifted me out of the water. I cling to it and let it take over me, wrapping in its gauzy fingers. And then Mason pulls me out again, and instead of screaming and crying and begging, I let out a long moan that makes him chuckle. "That's a good fucking girl, cara mia," he tells me, his hand tugging on my hair, hard. "Time to see if my little plaything's getting wet, don't you think so?" I mewl in response, and my legs part of their own accord as he reaches between my thighs. My cheeks burn up in embarrassment because I know exactly what he's going to find at my center. "Oh, Cara," he coos. "You're so fucking wet. So wet for your master." I let out another moan and my whole body starts to shake as he groans, his fingers exploring my slit. "Dripping," he says roughly against my cheek. "So fucking wet, such a perfect little toy. Yes, baby.” "Sir," I manage to get out. "You need to fuck me now, please." "I think I will," he promises in a low, throaty whisper. "I think I just have to, after you've been such a good little girl for me." He flips me over, and my face settles against the cool tiles of the pool as Mason pulls my ass up. He pauses for a moment and I wait in anticipation, wiggling my butt at him. The first rope of his spit ands on my butt, sliding down my asshole and towards my pussy. My eyes roll into the back of my head and I moan like a sexstarved nymphomaniac. "Please, Sir," I beg pathetically. "Inside me, now, please."

His fingers reach for me and he slides them across my mouth, slapping me so lightly it feels like a kiss. "Stay with me, princess," he orders me. "I want your eyes open and your pussy fucking ready for this." I mewl as he enters me, his whole cock inside me with a single thrust of his powerful hips. He groans as he fucks me, long, slow, torturous grinding motions against my clit making me go crazy. He fucks me like his own personal fucktoy, making me into a little slut just like he wanted to all along. And I let him, submitting to him completely and letting him fill every inch of my hole until I feel like I'm ready to fucking burst. I start talking nonsense, pleases and ohgods slipping from my mouth so easily it makes Mason chuckle. He spanks my ass while his other hand goes to my nipple, and he flicks his fingers against the hardened little nub, hard. It makes me yelp and that makes him swell so much in my cunt I think he's about to rip me apart. He pulls out suddenly, and I protest at the loss of him with a long moan. "Jesus fucking shit, princess," he says roughly. "Your sweet little pussy's gaping for me. What a sweet little thing you are." I push my ass out towards him and he rushes his cock back inside. "I can't go easy on you anymore," he tells me between thrusts. "I have to fuck you really hard now, sweetheart, and that might hurt a little. Is that okay?" "Yes," I almost shout my response. "Yes, please, just let me fucking cum for you, Sir." He groans his release, fucking me so fast his motions are a damn blur through the tears in my eyes. I love crying for him. Love letting those tears fall hard and fast as he claims my tender, swollen little hole. "Cum with me, princess," he orders me, and I do. A long moan pushes me over the edge and I feel myself getting so wet something gushes out of my pussy, making his cock slide into me louder and louder. I'm whimpering, not even sure whether I'm sticking to 'Sir' anymore. He fucks me until he cums with a growl, and then he pulls out his cock to my dismay, and makes it spurt all over my ass. I protest with a loud howl as another orgasm rips through my body, making me tremble in his arms. Once he's done, Mason reaches for my butt and smears his cum all over my cheeks, making me laugh. "Dirty girl," he tells me with a big grin on his face.

I open my mouth wide and he lets me suck his cum from his fingers, his dark eyes already plotting what he's going to do to me next.

SEVENTEEN

Cara

he summer is passing slowly, but surely. There's a noticeable chill present in T the nighttime, and I've started wearing a cardigan over my dresses when we have

dinner on the veranda. I know my time at Mason's place is slowly coming to an end, but neither of us has brought it up yet. I don't want to admit I'll have to go back to my real life in the fall. Go to one of the colleges I got accepted to and resume life as it used to be. Is that even possible after everything that has happened? I guess I'm about to find out. I've started sleeping in Mason's room, curled up against his chest with my head resting in the crook of his arm. I like the sense of familiarity between us now, it makes me feel good. We're getting ready for bed that night and I head to his bedroom earlier, while Mason finishes up some work in the office. I take a long-forgotten paperback from my suitcase and thumb through the pages until I found the chapter where I left off. I don't remember the moment I doze off, but I wake up with a throbbing headache hours later, the paperback discarded on my chest. Mason's sleeping next to me, his strong body cradling mine. He's put a blanket over me and I smile to myself as my fingers glide over his handsome features. Then I realize why my head is pounding - there's a loud noise coming from downstairs. Someone's shouting. Mason stirs awake a moment later, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He looks concerned as he sits up in the bed, extending an arm to be and rubbing my wrist to comfort me. "What's going on?" I ask, my voice shaky. "Is someone here?" "I'll go check it out," he promises me, and I make to get out of the bed at the same time he does, but his firm grip on my arm stops me. "No, you stay here,

sweetheart." I pout at his words but he ignores me, putting on the jeans he'd worn earlier and heading out of the room. I hear his footsteps going down the stairs, and for a moment, everything is quiet. I lie in the bed with my heart pounding and an impending sense of doom. I have a bad feeling about this. Something isn't right. Just then, I hear a loud crash and more voices being raised. It's enough to get me out of bed. I slip on a silk robe Mason got me last week, my bare feet shuffling along the floor as I rush out of the room. I don't even bother looking in the mirror, too worried about Mason's safety to worry about my appearance. I walk downstairs where the noises are coming from. I come to an abrupt stop at the top of the stairs overlooking the front room. There are three figures there, talking in urgent notes, loud and angry voices taking up the whole room. Mason, Filippe and... "Dad?" The word comes out small, like I feel right now. The three man all look towards me standing at the top of the stairs. It is my dad. What the hell is he doing here? He looks at me, his eyes furious. He takes in my disheveled appearance, and I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear as he stares me down, trying to get some kind of answer from me. "What the hell?" he asks. His voice isn't loud, but his tone is pissed. Enough to scare me into blushing. "Did she come from your fucking room?" My dad glares at Mason, who runs a hand through his hair. "Calm down, James," Filippe begs my father. "We can sort all of this out, don't worry." "Sort it out?" My dad laughs bitterly. "I send her to him," he points at Mason, "to show her the country, not the size of his dick!" I've never heard my father curse in my life, and it sends scared shivers down my spine, like little razor-sharp needles forcing their way into my skin. "James, please," Mason finally says, his voice firm. "We can talk about anything." "Yeah?" Dad looks at him, pure fury in his eyes. "Are we going to talk about the fact you turned my fucking daughter into a sex toy for your pleasure?" My hand trembles on the stairway rail.

"Are we going to talk about you painting her," dad bellows. "Fucking naked in front of your sick damn supporters?" "James," Mason begs him, sneaking a glance at me. "I don't know who told you about all this." My dad laughs bitterly, saying, "Word gets around, Mason. You wouldn't even believe." "He didn't force me to do anything," I get out in the smallest of voices. My dad laughs, like it's the most idiotic thing he's heard in his life. "Didn't force her," he mocks Mason. "She's fucking eighteen, you son of a bitch. She's been manipulated. You fucked up her head, you jackass. You fucking ruined her!" "Daddy, stop!" I yell, but my words fall on deaf ears as my father lunges after Mason. I shriek as the two men tumble to the ground, trying to make my way to the spot on the floor where they're brawling. But Filippe intercepts me, holding me back while the only two men that mean anything to me fight it out. My father is fueled by rage, but Mason is taller, stronger. He's got the upper hand, even though I can tell he's just trying to calm dad down. "Where are they?" dad snarls as they get up, Mason holding him at an arm's length. "Where are the fucking paintings, you son of a bitch?" None of us says a word as my dad rips himself out of Mason's grip and runs up the stairs. He doesn't even stop when he passes me, and I feel myself crying, hot tears of humiliation falling down my cheeks. We all race after my dad as he tears through the house. He doesn't stop until he comes to a door I don't even remember. "In here?" he snarls at Mason. "Did you put her with all of your other whores, you sick bastard?" I give Mason a confused look. He looks at me worriedly, before raising his arms at my father. "Calm down, James," he begs for the last time. "Let's sit down and talk about this." "I did not take a fucking ten-hour flight to talk," dad yells at him. He tries the door, it's locked. Then, he lunges at it with all his might, screaming as he breaks down the door. We all stare into the Pandora's box he's just opened.

The room is big, more of a hall, really. There are four easels in the middle of it, my nakedness exposed on every one of them. I blush deeply, but then I see the rest of the room. It's really a gallery, the walls adorned with paintings. Dozens upon dozens of them. I walk past Filippe, past Mason, past my dad. Someone flips the light switch and I come face to face with them. The women. The muses. Innocence. Yearing. Submission. Domination. Four portraits for every one of them. All of them on the walls of this room. It must be over ten women. Maybe over a dozen. And in the middle of the room, my own portraits, like a fucking mockery to everything I thought I'd experienced with Mason. I can't even turn to face him as the hot tears start to fall. I hear them talking, shouting. I feel someone reach for me but I rip myself out of their touch and sit down on the floor in a corner. I can't keep myself up anymore. I watch my dad head for the paintings of me, punching a hole in every one of them. Ruining them. Someone kneels down in front of me, and makes me look into his eyes. Mason. "How could you?" I ask him. "How could you use me?" "I didn't," he says. "You were the last one. The most important one. My work of art. My magnum opus. My muse, cara mia..." "Shut up!" I wipe my tears off angrily, my whole body throbbing with the lies and deceit he's fed me over the past month. "I hate you, Mason Scott. You're a jackass. I hate you, I hate you, I hate you." “Tell her you love her, then,” my dad interrupts from behind us, and Mason clenches his fists like he’s in physical pain. “Tell her you love her, you bastard.” Mason looks at me and his mouth opens, but there are no words. He just stares at me, begging me to understand, hoping I’ll see something I don’t believe in anymore.

“Please,” I say softly, even though I don’t want him to see how vulnerable I am. “Please, Mason.” “I…” he swallows. “I’m sorry, cara mia.” I push past him and start running. I can barely see through the tears clouding my vision. I don't stop until my bare feet hit the ground. I don't stop until I reach the secret garden. Once I'm there, I tear through it. I want to hurt him by damaging something that means a lot to him. Even though the garden is overgrown, there is still a certain kind of beauty to it. And I tear through it like a banshee. I pull out roots, break down branches. I dig up the soil, kick the flowers, I do my fucking best to destroy the beauty of the place. I don't stop until someone drags me away. My feet drag on the ground as I get taken away, feeling like a lifeless doll. I realize it's my father talking to me as he sits me down into a taxi. I'm still only wearing the silk robe over my PJs, the fabric now stained with blood. I look down at my hands and find them cut up. Probably from the rose bushes in the garden, I think absentmindedly. Someone slams a fist on the window and the taxi driver starts chattering in Italian. "Don't fucking take her." The voice is muffled. I look up at Mason, his eyes pleading with me, with my father. Don't. Go. I want to say something back, but my mouth has dried up. Surely all this wasn't fake. Surely he felt something for me, even though he painted so many other women in the same manner. But what we had... It was real. Maybe just for me. Maybe not for Mason. Fresh tears spill from my eyes as I look at him through the window. He's desperate, he's reaching for the door, but we're locked inside. A part of me wants to tell my father to let me out, another part wants me to stay put and leave it all behind. The pain, the heartache. The love, the intensity of the man I spent my summer with. "Drive," my dad orders the taxi driver. "Marco Polo airport. Now." The driver hesitates and Mason slams a fist on the window again. "NOW!" my dad demands, and the driver steps on the gas. I stare outside of the window feeling numb as the car drives off. Mason's figure gets smaller and smaller and smaller. And then it disappears, and I don't feel anything anymore.

"It's okay, honey," my dad tells me, his voice shaky and pent-up. "You're okay now. I'm taking you home now. Don't worry, you never have to see him again." I always thought I would break with a scream, go down in flames, come apart loudly. But as I fall apart in that car, I don't make a single sound.

EIGHTEEN

Mason

fter James leaves with his daughter, I'm a wreck. I don't know how I get back A inside the house, don't know how I rip my knuckles open and make them bleed

down my fist. The red mist finally starts to back away when Filippe patches me up in the kitchen. I lost her, just like that. Because I was a fucking prick and couldn't tell her how I really felt. What she made me feel, what kind of man she made me become. Cara had changed me for the better, and I hated myself for not telling her that when I had the chance. Filippe's calming words are coming in through a dark cloud of anger. "I want you to leave for the night," I tell him roughly, as he's putting away the first aid kit. "I don't think that's wise," Filippe says hesitantly, but one look from me has him too scared to say another word. He nods one, packs up his stuff and leaves, letting me wallow in my sadness by myself. As soon as he is gone, I get up and walk to the bar in the dining room. I go through the numerous bottles in the bar and finally find an 18-year-old Scotch in the bar. I stare at it for a long time, letting it bring back all the memories from the day I received it. "She's pregnant! She's fucking pregnant!" I grin at my friend's words, clapping him on the back and giving him a big hug. "Man, I can't believe it," he keeps saying. "Can't fucking believe I'm going to be a father." James Newton is a few years older to me, but he's still a huge fucking kid. We've been working at the same company for a few years now, me just as the delivery guy and him as one of the newest partners. His wife Corinne and he have been trying to

have a baby for a while now, and it looks like the time is finally here. Looking at my buddy's eyes and the pure joy displayed in them makes me wonder if I'll ever be this excited about the prospect of having a child. I don't think so. "Congratulations, man," I say as we sit down at the bar. "Can't believe this is actually happening. I'm going to be uncle fucking Mason!" "And you won't be able to curse around her," he warns me. "Her?" I lift my brows in wonder. "Didn't know they could find out the gender so early on." "It's just a feeling." James is smiling wide as he orders a round of drinks for us. Scotch. "That reminds me, I brought you something." "Now you're making me look bad," I joke. "I haven't got anything for you. Making me feel like a prick." James laugh and pulls a bottle from a paper bag. "Got this from the in-laws. I want you to hold on to it for me," he tells me, emotion getting the better of him as he hands the bottle over. "It's Scotch. I want you to keep it until the kid turns eighteen. Then, we can have some together." "You know I should be the one giving you a bottle, right?" I remind him, and we both laugh. Truth be told, I'm kind of touched he thought of me as the keeper for this bottle. "Of course, man, I'll hold on to it. To your baby girl!" We drank ourselves into a stupor that night, and coincidentally, it was one of the last nights I spent with James for a long time after that. I got promotion after promotion, and ended up getting offered a job to handle the Italian branch of the company, while James moved up north with his family. By the time his wife gave birth, we'd grown so far apart he never even called me. I found out about the little girl, Cara, from another co-worker. We stayed in touch sporadically over the years. A birthday message here and there, a Christmas card once in a while. No phone calls or texts. The odd Facebook message. When I was in town, James found out through a mutual friend. His invitation to his daughter's birthday party seemed more of a chore than an exciting occasion. But I'd heard of James' wife passing, knew he was having a hard time, and I decided to pay a visit to my old friend. It had been good catching up with him, and we had fun remembering moments from all those years ago. He even asked me about the Scotch, and I promised him I

was still keeping it safe. I don't remember whether I told him about Luca or just-about-to-be ex-wife. I forgot every fucking detail of that day after I set my eyes on Cara for the first time. And then everything else went out of the fucking window, my only intention getting Cara into my life. And it worked like a damn charm. I open the Scotch and drain it down my throat. One sip, two, three, four, five. It burns my throat and I keep drinking until the pain takes over my broken heart. At least this one's fucking temporary.

HOURS LATER, I DRAG MYSELF FROM THE DINING ROOM TABLE AND HEAD UPSTAIRS. THE DOOR TO THE gallery mocks me, hanging wide open. The faces of all the women I've painted laugh at me from the walls, becoming my downfall in the very end. I walk inside the room, barely able to stand on my feet. My fingers graze the surface of the paintings Cara's father has ruined. The only ones that really mean anything to me. Ruined. I head for the ones on the wall, looking at the women Cara thought were her competition. The women she thinks I betrayed her with. All of them, all eleven, were for practice. All of them knew what was going to happen. That I was in love with someone else, waiting for her. Even then, I loved her. I just didn't fucking know it. I look at the portraits on the walls, remembering each and every woman fondly. The very first one only two weeks after Cara's sixteen birthday. She taught me how to turn punishments into unbearable pleasure. I go through all the muses this way, thinking about what each one of them has taught me. All in preparation for Cara, so I could be the best master she could wish for. So I could be the right man for her. To lessen the blow to her dad, to make her fall in love with me more - because I was so fucking paranoid about losing her, even then, when she wasn't in my arms yet. I start picking at the surface of the paintings, getting my hands dirty with the dried-up paint. When I can't destroy them sufficiently that way, I take matters into my own hands, just like James did. I punch a hole in every one of the canvases until there's nothing left of the paintings on the walls. I break the frames, smash them on my knee, break them on the ground. I don't stop until the whole gallery is ruined.

I don't need it anymore. It was all for Cara, but Cara is fucking gone. I pull out my cellphone and dial James' number, even though I know they're on the plane back right now and there's no chance he'll see my call. I let it ring repeatedly, over and over again until the shrill dial town is making me lose my mind. I feel the loss of Cara everywhere, my head, my heart, my fucking limbs. I miss the weight of her on top of me, the way her head fit into the crook of my arm. She's been gone a mere few hours and already, I'm losing my damn mind. "What's going on?" I turn towards the source of the voice, for a moment certain that I'm imagining the figure standing in the doorway. But as my eyes come into focus I realize it really is him. "Get the fuck out," I snarl at him. "I can't deal with your shit right now." Luca hesitates before approaching me slowly. I collapse against the wall, my back sliding down until my ass hits the ground. I cover my face in my hands and Luca sits down in front of me. "What happened?" he asks simply. "She's gone," I tell him. It's all he needs to know. It's all that matters, really. Cara is gone and she isn't coming back. "Shit, I'm sorry." Luca does sound genuinely sorry, and I'm surprised he's actually capable of any kind of emotion. I look up at him and find him staring at me with bloodshot eyes. He's not drunk though, not like I am. "What happened to you?" I ask him. I choose to overlook the fact that he technically shouldn't be back at the house after I kicked him out a few weeks ago. I didn't care where he ended up that night, after treating Cara the way he did. But now that he's back, I'm almost relieved that he's in one piece. "I found her," he tells me simply, and I give him a blank stare. "Found who?" He looks into my eyes and I see the pain in his gaze, the answer so obvious it makes me sigh out loud, saying, "Oh, Luca." "I was surprised she lives so close by," he says conversationally, but a single look at him explains how hurt he is by this knowledge. "Did you know she was only an hour's drive away from us?"

I hesitate for a second before nodding. I can see my admission has hurt the young man even more. "How did you find her?" I ask him, and he runs a hand through his dark hair. We really do look alike, even though we're not related. I wasn't much of a father figure for Luca either, and I never gave a shit about it. But seeing him so vulnerable now makes me wonder how much of his fucked up personality is really on me. "I've been looking for a while now," he admits. "I just... I guess I wanted to see if she had any interest in seeing me. Maybe making things right." "I'm sorry, Luca," I say roughly. I don't tell him he could've asked me. Don't tell him she stopped paying for him ages ago, that she never even responded to my calls when I wanted to talk about him. She's written us both off, for good. "It's okay," he says. "I guess we've both messed up, haven't we?" I laugh bitterly at his words, wondering how much he actually knows. He must've figured out Cara was special to me - it was why he was picking on her, after all. Maybe it was to get my attention as well, I don't know. "You really shouldn't be here," I tell him coolly. "Not after what you did to Cara." "I know." His voice is weak, for once. "I wanted to apologize to her. I know I can't really say or d anything that would make it better. I never meant to hurt her, I swear." I look up at him, realizing I don't even know him after all these years. But I think he's telling the truth. "Okay," I say quietly. "We need to talk, anyway. But I need to get to bed first." We both know I'm lying, that I'll spend the next few hours tossing and turning. I also know I'll be dialling James' number the whole time, hoping and begging that he'll pick up. That he'll change his mind. Luca gets up from the floor and gives me a small smile. "Goodnight, old man," he says. His voice is tired. "Good night, Luca." I don't move from the floor I've collapsed on, and he doesn't make a move to help me, either.

NINETEEN

Cara

he flight back and the first few days at home are a blur. I barely remember a T thing from that time, and I sleep for hours and hours, day and night blending into one another and making me forget about my whereabouts.

Dad doesn't pry. He makes sure I'm fed and that I take care of myself, but I've switched on autopilot. I'm barely aware of what's going on as the days start to pass. On the fifth day, I ask dad for my phone, and he refuses. I realize he's taken it away from me, worried Mason will try to make contact. My computer is gone as well, and I've never felt more isolated. "I'm not going to call him," I tell dad. He refuses to acknowledge Mason, hasn't said his name or anything about him since we got back. Now, his hands form fists at his sides and he looks away, like he can't bear looking at me anymore. "I said no," he says simply, and with that, he leaves the room. I listen on and hear the tell-tale sound of the lock turning. He's locked me into my own room, made me a prisoner in this goddamn house. I start to get antsy, wanting to get out, wanting to make sure I'm making the right decision. Doubt gnaws at me like an old friend, reminding me I never truly believed Mason loved me. Yes, he was fond of me, yes, he loved touching me. But he made it plenty clear he never fucking loved me in the first place. Dad doesn't really talk to me either. Sometimes I wake up to find him in the room, leaving me some food on the desk or checking up to make sure I'm fine. He never says a word though, usually doesn't even reply when I'm the one addressing him. I've never felt so alone, not even when my mom passed away when I was seven. Hours blend into days and the future looks bleak. I have no interest in getting out of the bed and moving on with my life. Every thought I have is preoccupied by Mason,

thinking about what happened between us and how much of it was just a damn lie. I'm obsessed. I spend hours upon hours lying awake, worrying, daydreaming about him. I don't know whether I regret my decision - well, it wasn't really my decision - to leave. I know I was upset when it all went down, but I never gave him a chance to explain. Sometimes I wonder if he's trying to make contact. Maybe he's calling my cell in vein, maybe he's tried my dad's number and had another huge fight with him. I don't know, and I might never find out. My dad's made it plenty clear that I need to just move on. Dad sees how upset I am and how lethargic I've become, and when a week passes, he lets me out of my bedroom. We never talk about what happened. He doesn't ask and I don't offer him any details. I wonder if he knows everything and what his version of the events that transpired is. I don't make an effort to find out. It's a week later, I think, when I break down. I beg dad for my phone and laptop again, and he refuses every single time. I sink down into a heap at his feet, sobbing like fucking crazy because I can't keep these emotions bottled up inside of me for much longer. I need to show him that I'm hurting, and I need to fucking talk to Mason. Dad walks away from me, leaving me in a crumpled heap on the floor. He sends a maid to make sure I'm alright later, and I wonder if our relationship will ever go back to being the way it was before. That night, I convince myself I'm dreaming when I hear Mason's voice downstairs. I toss and turn at night, imagining him coming back and demanding my dad let him see me. For a moment, I'm almost convinced it really happened, but when I ask my dad about it in the morning, he refuses to tell me anything. I stop sleeping completely and my nights are spent tossing and turning the whole time, just waiting in limbo for something to happen. The days are passing so fast now, and I'm becoming aware that it's going to be fall-time soon. Time for me to go to school and put this summer in Italy behind me. I wonder if I'll even be able to do that. The next day, I lie in bed awake just as dawn breaks outside. I get up on auto pilot even though it's much, much too early, and dress myself in one of the dresses I wore in Italy. I do my makeup, too, because I need something to do, and it's a good distraction. I sit at my vanity table in my childhood bedroom, combing through the tangles in my hair and looking at my reflection. My eyes are bloodshot from crying, my

complexion pale, like it's already lost the tan I got in Italy. I look unwell. I've just finished getting ready as the clock strikes 6 in the morning, and the door to my bedroom opens slowly. I look at the intruder in the mirror, and my eyes widen in shock and surprise when I see Mason's broad form filling the doorway. I must be dreaming, because there's no way this is happening. No chance he's actually here with me. I hear someone racing up the stairs as I stare at Mason, my eyes drinking him in. He's as handsome as he's always been, but he doesn't look well. I turn around in my chair to convince myself he's merely a mirage, a figment of my imagination. But when I look at him now, he's still standing there, as solid as he ever was. "Cara mia," he says softly, his lips parting as the nickname slips from his mouth. My whole body shivers when he calls me that, reminding me of a different time when those two words made me submit so freely. In that moment, my dad walks up behind him, hitting Mason's head hard. The two men fall to the floor and I get up, my hands going to my face as I stare at them going at it for the second time in a row. I don't just watch this time, though. I come in between them and try to separate them, and they stop brawling for a second to make sure I'm safe. I stand in front of my father, protecting him from Mason's punches, even though he hasn't even thrown any. "Stop it," I hiss at them both. "Just fucking stop it already." "Cara, get the hell out of my way," my dad says in a strained tone, trying to push me to the side. But I'm relentless, and there's not a fucking chance I'm going to move before we settle this once and for all. My heart is beating loudly because Mason is so close once again. I've finally realized he really is here, looking at me with those hungry eyes, like he's trying to devour me with his gaze alone. "Stop fighting," I tell them both again. "This isn't solving anything." "Cara," Mason bellows out. "Let us sort this by ourselves." "Don't I get a say?" I bite back. "Don't I get to decide what I fucking want?" They both stare at me as I take a deep breath and walk away from them both. My skin is prickled with goosebumps and I'm desperate to be back in Mason's arms. I hate the way my body has betrayed me already. "I need to explain," Mason tells me gently. "I wanted to show you those portraits, Cara, when the time was right. I want to explain everything. I want to make it

fucking right." I stare at him, waiting for him to go on. Even my dad seems to be listening for once. Mason runs his fingers through that dark hair of his, and my stomach hurts from being so close to him without touching him. "They didn't mean anything to me," he explains. "I just wanted to make sure I knew how to take proper care of you, how to make sure you were... okay. I saw those women after I met you two years ago. I waited for you, Cara. I was trying to make things right before we even saw each other again." "You bastard," my father snarls at Mason. "You think she can make a choice by herself in this state, when you're feeding her lies? She's convinced she's in love with you, you jackass!" "Good," Mason tells him firmly, looking at me for confirmation. I avert my eyes. "I hope she fucking is, because I'm in love with her too." With that, he comes at me, grabbing me by the thighs and lifting me up. I'm thrown over his shoulder in the next second, and I don't even fucking resist. He carries me out of the room, and after a moment's hesitation, my father follows. "If you fucking hurt her," he bellows after Mason. "I'm going to kill you." "Likewise," Mason says back over his shoulder. "If you make her cry," my dad goes on. "I'll make you pay." We make our way down the stairs and I don't even fight Mason as he carries me out of the house. I'm so fucking confused, my heart and my head pounding as I try to make sense of this situation. I don't have a clue if what's happening is what's right for me, but I know, without a doubt, Mason's the man I want to be with. He sets me down in the front room, and my dad and I look at each other with tears in our eyes. I think I've already made my decision - I'm leaving with Mason. "I'm sorry, Daddy," I tell him softly, and he covers his eyes as he realizes this is really happening. "I need to go with him." "Cara..." His voice is hurt, but at least it isn't broken. He understands I need to do this, and though he my think it's a foolish decision, I hope I'll prove him wrong in due time. "Take care of her," he orders Mason as he pulls me in for a tight hug. I relish the feel of him against me, knowing it might be a while before I see my father again. He lets go of me after a while, angrily wiping at the traitorous tears in his eyes.

"I want to hear from you every day," he makes me promise. "Just so I know you're okay." 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.

TWENTY

Cara PRESENT TIME

claimed my last hole, just like I knew he would. And now I belong to him H e's 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 away, 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. "I fucked up," he admits. "More than once. But I'm hoping we can make things better, since it seems like you're here to stay." Mason grunts at that and I stand prouder behind him. "Maybe," I say doubtfully, and Luca flashes his brilliant smile at me. "I'm leaving for school today," he lets me know. "I'll be back for the holidays." I don't reply, but my eyes follow him around the room carefully, as if I'm anticipating another attack on either me or Mason. "Oh, and Cara?" He looks over his shoulder on the way out, and bores his eyes into mine. "Always knew you were perfect for the old man," he grins. "I never would have touched you." With that, he leaves the room. Mason turns around and kisses me gently, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. "Sorry I didn't warn you about him," he says, and I give him a look that speaks volumes. "I should have, I know. We're... trying to make things better. Luca found his mom a while ago."

"His... and Olivia's mom?" I ask tentatively. Mason looks away at the mention of her name, but he doesn't flinch like he did yesterday. "Yes," he says. "She's remarried. Won't talk to either of us." I look at the door Luca's disappeared out of and wonder what it must be like to lose both his parents that way. He really is alone. A sudden urge awakens inside me and I look at Mason desperately. "Do you think I could make a phone call?" I ask him. "Of course, sweetheart," he nods. As an afterthought, he adds, "Your dad?" I nod. He takes my hand and leads me into his study. He shows me to the phone in his office and then leaves quietly, giving me some much-needed privacy. I hesitate with my hand positioned over the phone for ages before finally picking it up. I type in dad's number with shaky numbers. The phone rings and rings and rings. I'm almost sure he isn't going to answer. But then, I hear someone pick it up, and my dad's frazzled voice greets me. "Hello?" I take a sharp intake of air, wondering if he knows if it's me. He's quiet for a long time, listening to me breathing. "Cara?" he finally says. His voice is shaky and filled with so much sadness it breaks my heart. I think back to the time we lost mom, to how well dad took care of me. How he always tried to make things better for me, for us. He was a great father. "Hi, dad," I say softly into the phone. He breathes a sigh of relief, and for a moment, I think he's going to cry. But instead, he laughs. A sound I know so well it makes me smile in response. "Hi," he says, and his voice is calmer. "Hi, sweetie." I don't know why, but I sob. Only once, but enough to make my dad worry. "Oh, honey," he says softly. "We're going to make things right." "Okay," I reply in a small voice. "Maybe not today," dad jokes, and I giggle through the few tears that have escaped

my eyes. "But soon. I'll... I'll come to terms with it." "Will you come visit me?" I ask. "Of course," he promises. "All the time." "And..." I let the sentence hang in the air. "And what, honey?" "And you still love me, right?" "Cara," he says simply. "Always. I promise you that." I look up to find Mason standing in the doorway, his concerned eyes following my motions. I smile, and he smiles back. "Good," I say into the phone. "That's good, dad."

TWENTY-ONE

Mason 1 MONTH LATER

closer to him. I'm only wearing a nightie, nothing else. Not panties, not I crawl a bra. I crawl onto his lap, straddling him. My heart is beating a million times per minute, and I've no idea why I'm doing this. I just want his pain to leave his body. "Cara..." he breathes a warning down my neck, leaning back so his torso isn't touching mine. But the breath against my neck is enough for my nipples to harden, and I'm thankful the room is dark apart from the lamp on my bedside table. I don't want him to see how fiercely I'm blushing. "Cara, you need to move," he tells me, his voice rough and strained. "If you don't, you won't be able to get away from me." I take his hands gently and put them on my hips, and he groans out loud. I need him close. Need him touching me. Need him inside me. "Please," I breathe. "I just need to feel safe. Can you help me?" "Jesus," he groans when I grind my naked hips against his crotch. I can feel him getting hard under me. Mason’s hands push my nightie up, until it's above my hips. He doesn't look down at my naked pussy, instead focusing his eyes on mine, making it impossible for me to look away. "Fuck," he breathes. "You're impossible to resist, cara mia." "So don't resist," I tell him. "Just give in." He hesitates, but only for a second. In the next moment, he's got his fingers wrapped up in my blonde mane of hair, pulling my head back.

"Strip," he orders me in a raspy voice. I blush and try to look away, but he makes my head stay in place. "I said strip," he repeats. My hands shake as they leave his shoulders, going to my hips. In one swift motion, I pull my pink lacy nightie over the top of my head. It lands in a heap on the floor and I'm left exposed, my breasts tightening in the cool air of the room and my pussy dripping on Mason’s pants. "Fucking hell," he breathes, and finally, his eyes roam my body. "I keep forgetting you’re fucking perfect, cara mia. So perfect." I try to shield my body with my hands, suddenly feeling shy, but he gently pries them away, admiring my body with lust-filled eyes. "Do you want to fuck me?" I ask him. "No," he groans, thrusting his hips against mine. "I don’t, Cara. I want to make love to you, baby. Is that okay?” I take a moment for the rush of the moment to wash over me, and finally nod. "Please," I beg him. "Show me what it feels like." Mason is up in a second, lifting me off the bed and placing me gently on my back. He climbs on top of me, and I feel shy as I'm stark naked and he's still fully clothed. "Do you ever touch yourself, Cara?" he asks me roughly, and I tremble. He’s never asked me that before. I nod. "Show me," he orders me. "Show me how you touch yourself, princess." My fingers don't obey my mind, which is shouting for me to stop. Instead, they follow an instinct of my body, roaming down my thighs and between my legs. I press my index finger against my clit and Mason grabs my hips as I moan. "You like that?" he asks me as I circle the little bundle of nerves. "You like feeling yourself get wet, baby?" I nod, moaning. He's holding my hips down with one hand, while the other goes to his neck and pulling off the tie he's wearing. My eyes glaze over, but he won't let me stop touching myself. My fingers leave my clit, and he stops holding me down, his palm smacking my pussy hard. "Fuck," I yelp. "Don't..."

"Don't?" he asks me, his hand lingering on my pussy and making me gasp. "Remember who's in charge here, cara mia. Tell me." I look at him with my eyes wide, and his finger parts my pussy lips, making me arch my back with neediness. "Tell me who owns this pussy," he orders me, circling my clit with his thumb. My eyes are glazing over. "Y-you," I stutter over the word. "You do..." With a groan, he gets off of me, pulling off his shirt and then his trousers. He stands before me in his boxers, his cock straining against the fabric and begging to be released. "Go on, Cara," he tells me slowly. "Play with my cock." I crawl over to the edge of the bed, slowly reaching for his ass. He thrusts his hips into my hands, and I look him in the eye when I pull down his boxers. His dick springs free and I moan at the sight of him, just like I always do. Mason’s hands wrap in my hair again, making me look down. "Do you want it?" he asks me, like he's talking to a pet. "You want a taste, sweetheart?" I nod, moaning low in my throat. He doesn't even have to push inside my mouth, I lean closer by myself. Slowly, I lick the tip of his dick, and Mason groans with pleasure. "Fucking shit," he tells me, his fingers tightening in my hair. "More, baby. Show me how good you lick." I circle my tongue around the crown of his cock, tentatively at first, but getting braver and braver. He tastes so masculine, deep and dark and delicious. I need to have him deeper. I need to have him inside me. I suck his cock inside my mouth and Mason curses when he fills my mouth. I keep sucking, slowly at first, but picking up speed when I see how much he loves it. "I can't fucking hold back, baby," he tells me darkly. "I'm sorry... I don't even want to." He holds my head still and starts fucking my mouth, excruciatingly slowly at first, making me want him so much deeper. But he soon picks up speed, filling my whole mouth up with his throbbing cock. I swirl my tongue around it as he fucks my face, his moans making my clit throb. My eyes are pleading with his to fuck me, and when he hits the back of my throat with the tip of his cock, I choke.

He pulls out slowly, and I take a deep breath. When I look back at Mason, his eyes are glazed over with need. "Lie on your back," he orders me. "On the bed. Fucking now, princess." I scramble back, lying down with my whole body exposed and trembling for his touch. This is different than anything we’ve done before. Yes, we’ve fucked numerous times now, we’ve even come really damn close to making love. But this time, with his eyes boring into mine, I know this is going to be special. “I want that last part of you, Cara,” he tells me as he climbs back on top of me. “The part that loves me, the part that can’t stand to be without me. I want your love, princess.” I wrap my legs around him and he groans as the tip of his cock presses against my pussy. “Make love to me,” I beg him, and with his name on my lips, he presses inside me. His eyes are on me, always, as he pushes his cock deeper and deeper inside me. Like this, with me on my back, it seems like he can go deeper than ever. He doesn’t fuck me though. His thrusts don’t get faster and faster like they usually do, like he’s just so damn desperate to fill me with his seed. Instead he fucks me slowly, like he’s relishing every second of being inside me. It takes me mere moments to cum all over his cock, gasping his name. He kisses it off my lips, going even slower now and with more intent. "More," I beg Mason, and he pulls out his whole length, then plunges inside me again as I gasp. The feeling is something I'm getting addicted to by the second stroke, my body shaking with the need for more. I keep repeating his name as he pumps inside me, one hand holding the small of my back, the other braced on my side. He curses out loud as he fucks me, and I'm seeing stars – not just the ones in the summer sky. "You feel so good, Mason," I whisper in his ear. He groans against my mouth, shutting me up with a deep kiss, then moving away and looking at me with concern. "Does it hurt?" he asks worriedly. I gulp as I ride another wave of pleasure, my walls tightening around his thick shaft, ready to milk every last drop of his hot come. "No,” I promise him. It doesn’t hurt like it usually does, even though he’s stretching me wide. It feels good.

He curses out loud and makes love to me like it's the first and last time. "I'm going to come inside of you now, okay, princess?" he asks me, his voice pained. I nod, begging him to do what he’s promised. "Be a good girl," he orders me. "I want you to come on my cock again." I writhe under his touch, getting off on those words alone. "Can you do that, Cara?" Before I can answer him, my body is taken over by a shiver and I bring my hips up to him, whispering his name over and over again. Mason curses as he drives his cock into me, fucking me harder than ever before. And it doesn’t hurt, it feels amazing. It feels like we’ve connected more than ever before, his perfect, veiny cock stretching me within an inch of my existence. He curses against my hair and his whole body tenses as he pumps one last time. He groans and I can tell he's going through the same thing, shaking and calling my name in a broken, ragged whisper. His body convulsing, Mason collapses on top of me, his cock still inside me. He looks down at me, his smirk ever present on his face as I pant in exhaustion. “I’ve wanted to do that for months,” he tells me, kissing his way up to my lips. “Make love to you, princess. Make you give me the last thing I was missing.” “And what might that be?” I tease him, running my fingers through his hair. He grins, saying, “Your heart, baby.” I giggle and try to push him off, but he won’t fucking budge. “Was that as corny as I think it was?” Mason laughs, and I nod. “It was true though. I wanted the last part of you.” “Well, you got it,” I kiss him on the lips, my tongue sneaking between them and demanding more attention. He groans as he kisses me, his mouth drinking me in like I’m the only substance he needs to live. “Maybe you should’ve paid more attention,” I say, biting his neck gently. “Why’s that, sweetheart?” Mason asks roughly. I can feel his cock getting hard between my legs again, throbbing to be inside me. “Because you would’ve noticed I gave it to you the day I came here,” I whisper in his ear.

TWENTY-TWO

Epilogue - Cara 2 YEARS LATER

I t's my birthday today. Oh, how time flies.

I've been thinking about the last two birthdays that meant this much to me. First, my sixteenth. Then, my eighteenth. And today, I'm turning twenty, and my father is coming to visit us in Italy for the first time. I never thought he would come to terms with mine and Mason's relationship. He was angry as hell, though he did his best to pretend it was okay because he loves me so much. But he refused to speak to Mason for a full year after that summer. I've seen my dad, have flown back home twice per year. But I also made it plenty clear the beautiful house outside of Venice was my home now, whether dad accepted it or not. He didn't, at first. He was sullen and refused to speak to me when we were together, at least for the first few days. But we talked a while later, and he confessed why this whole thing hurt him so badly. He told me Mason was one of his best friends, and he felt betrayed by what he'd done. I wanted desperately for them to rekindle their friendship, but it seemed like that would never happen. For the past two years, I'd sent my father invitations to my birthday party, and he refused the first time around. But this year, I earned a call back, and he promised he would be there. It made me both happy and incredibly nervous. I still remembered what had happened when Mason and my father were in a room together, and I didn't want a repeat of that awful fight. As I get ready, a million thoughts swimming through my head, I hope that everything will go okay today. Luca's homing home for the first time since I've been back too, and Mason has been promising me he is a changed man. I really hope so - for his sake. I know if he lays a hand on me, Mason's going to have his head. I'm wearing a long, baby blue dress. It's flowy and Grecian, with a long slit amongst the drapes on my legs. To compliment the color, I'm also wearing a gold leaf

headband that Mason had made especially for me. I feel beautiful today. I know the party's about to start, but I want to steal another moment with Mason before all the guests arrive. My eyes light up as he opens the door into our bedroom, finding me at the vanity table. "Cara," he says, his voice deep and throaty. "You look sexy as hell." "Likewise," I smile wide at him, getting up from the chair at my table. I walk up to him, smoothing the collar of his shirt. He's forgone the blazer, but he still looks semi-formal in his outfit. Handsome as ever. I pull on the hair at his ear and he groans. He's got some grey hairs there now that never cease to make me wet, even though he hates me teasing him about them. "Do we have time to..." My words are interrupted by a knock on the door and Mason groans when I call for the intruder to come in. "Signorina Newton," Filippe says pleasantly. "You look like a vision." "Thank you, Filippe," I smile, feeling the ghost of a blush creeping up on my neck. Still haven't quite gotten rid of that habit. "There are people arriving now," Filippe tells us. "I've told them to wait in the garden for you. Everything else has been prepared, we're just waiting for you now." I nod and Filippe disappears discreetly. As soon as he's gone, I steal a kiss from Mason's lips, and he tangles his fingers in the drapes of my dress. His hands find the slit in the side and he strokes my smooth, tanned legs. "Jesus, cara mia," he says roughly. "How am I going to get through tonight without sliding my fingers in that pussy when nobody's looking?" "Try hard?" I suggest innocently, and he grins as I tear myself from his embrace. "Come on, let's go downstairs."

IT'S A FEW HOURS INTO THE PARTY AND I'M HAVING THE BEST FUN. THERE ARE PEOPLE HERE I'VE COME TO know and love. People we consider friends, neighbors, people from Mason's work. All my people now, too. The only person missing is my dad. I keep looking at the corner of the house where Filippe is bringing my guests in, but so far, no luck. My dad hasn't shown up, and it feels like there's a little puzzle piece missing in my fairytale. Just like last year. Finally, several hours into the party, I see a familiar figure approaching. My dad smiles wide and waves at me as he rounds the corner. There are several other

guests with him. A woman and two small children. I don't realize they've come together until they're all standing in front of me. "Daddy!" My excitement is obvious as I jump into my father's arms, holding him tightly and relishing the hug I so rarely get these days. "I'm so glad you're here. You're late!" My dad laughs and shakes his head when he lets me go. "Sorry, honey, delay with the airline. We got here as fast as we could," he promises me, and I give him a curious look, followed by a glance at the woman and children he's brought with him. My dad clears his throat and I realize he looks really nervous as he speaks up again. "I hope you don't mind that I brought a... date." He looks into my eyes as he delivers the blow, and my lips part in shock. Is that what his woman is? His date, and her children, presumably? I don't say a word as I'm introduced to them. Her name is Kate, the kids are Jonathan and Bella. They're cute, probably around six and twelve. She must be my dad's age or a little younger. "It's nice to meet you," I tell her honestly, and am surprised to realize I'm being honest. It is nice to see her. I didn't even know my father was dating, and I shoot him an annoyed look which he makes sure to avoid. "I should've told you I was bringing other people," dad fidgets. "But I thought it would be awkward if I did, so..." "So you brought them without telling me," I finish for him, and the woman, Kate, blushes deeply. "I'm sorry, I'm coming off as really rude. I'm really happy you're all here. I wish you'd told me sooner, dad." He looks up at me and his eyes explain why he didn't. Of course, I understand. I know I would've made a big deal out of it. She is the first woman I've known my father to date since my mother passed away when I was seven years old, though. Of course it's a big deal. I look at her two children to distract myself. "Hey guys, I think there's a cat here on the property that just got kittens. You wanna come check it out?" They nod right away, excitement shining in their eyes. The younger one, Bella, gives me her hand as we walk away from the crowd. I smile at my dad who gives me

a grateful look. "Have fun and I'll be with you in a second," I promise, leading the kids away. We find the neighborhood tabby and her kittens in the old barn, and the kids go crazy over them. They're gentle and sweet with the cats, and I decide I like them on the spot. I keep stealing glances at the party going on behind us. Just like I had hoped, my dad is now talking to Mason. I don't think they've spoken to one another in two years - ever since I left my home in the States to leave with Mason. Their postures now are rigid and I can tell they're uncomfortable around one another, but at least they're talking. It's a good start, and it makes me smile to see them making an effort for my sake. I wait until the kids have had enough of the kittens, and lead them back to their mom with big smiles on their faces. Kate gives me a grateful smile once I tell them there's cake by the pool, and they rush in that direction to get the biggest slice they possibly can. "They're great kids," I tell their mother honestly. "Thank you." Her smile is shy and she doesn't go on. It makes me wonder what her story is and how she met my father. The notion of finding out soon is exciting, and I offer her a genuine smile. "You alright, darling?" Mason's hand wraps around my waist and I lean back into his embrace. My dad looks a little, but not overtly uncomfortable as he joins us with a flute of champagne for his date. I look between him and Mason expectantly, but neither says a word. Eventually, we fall into a conversation about Italy. Kate confesses she's always wanted to visit Venice. "Well, you can stay a few days now, can't you?" I ask her, and she nods, giving my father a careful glance. "We were planning on visiting tomorrow," she explains. "We have to book a hotel still." "You're welcome to stay here," Mason says with a small smile. I look at my dad to see if he's going to accept his offer, and am surprised when his strained expression shifts into a small smile. "That might be nice, yes," he admits. "Thank you, Mason." After a little while, we move towards the tables that have been set up throughout

the lawn. I take the honorary spot at the head of the biggest table, flanked by Mason on one side and my dad on the other. Even Filippe is joining us today, even though it took us ages to convince him. He's part of the family now, too. Luca's sitting at a table with some of his friends, and I'm grateful he's not at ours. I may have forgiven him for what happened two years ago, but something about him still makes me uncomfortable. I get up once everyone's at their spots and smile at our guests. "I have to make the obligatory speech," I explain. "Mason's making me." "Like every year?" someone asks, and I nod. "These are kind of a tradition now," I sigh. "I think he just likes hearing me talking about him." Everyone laughs and Mason sneaks a hand up my leg under the table, disguised by the heavy white tablecloths. I grin at him as I go on. "I'm so glad you could all be here today," I begin. "Especially my dad and his girlfriend along with her children. Welcome, you guys. I hope you enjoy your stay here." Kate gives me a smile while Jonathan and Bella stare at me adoringly. "I think we'll get along well," I laugh. "Especially with the help of some kittens." I look back at my dad. "And, dad... I'm so happy you're here after all this time. I know things haven't always been easy." Mason's fingers tighten on my thigh. "But I'm so glad you're here for the big announcement." Mason gets up beside me and wraps his arms around me as I giggle into the night. "Oh, what the hell," he says with the biggest smile. "Sorry, darling, I'm stealing this moment." He turns me around so I'm facing him. "Signorina Cara is going to make me the happiest man alive and marry me," he says, and my mouth drops open. "But-" I start to say, but he drops to his knee before I can go on, presenting me with a ring. I can't believe this.

"You better say yes," Mason grins at me. "Yes," I breathe. Everybody cheers as he puts the ring on my finger. I haven't even had the chance to look at it properly, I'm so damn shocked this is really happening. We never talked about this. I didn't even know he wanted to marry me... A look at my father reveals him wiping tears away from his eyes with a napkin, and my bottom lip trembles. "Dad?" I say, with everyone's eyes still on me. "Yes, honey?" he asks. His voice is heavy with unspoken emotion. "You're gonna be a grandpa," I confess, and his eyes widen. "A boy." I point at my dress with shaky fingers. "Baby blue, for your grandson." He gets up from his seat and wraps me up in a hug I'll remember my whole life. People clap and start coming up to me to congratulate me, but all I can think about is what my father said in my ear when he hugged me. Thank you. I look at Mason, leaning back in his chair and downing his champagne. He grins at me, that wicked smile that got me in trouble in the first place. He pats his knee and I sit down, forgetting about all the guests, forgetting about everything as our lips come together in a searing kiss. "Mine," he mutters against my lips. "My muse." THE END SUBSCRIBE to my newsletter and receive 2 FREE NOVELS

VISIT me on Facebook JOIN my readers’ group on Facebook Check out my other books! Dark Blood Savage Big Bad Wolf His Brat His Doll

Acknowledgments

I want to take a moment to thank every single reader who picks up my books, and a special thank you to Christine R. J., Lynn K.U. and Rachelle B. You’re some of my favorite ladies in the Good Girls Love Bad Boys group and you make getting up every day more fun because I know I get to talk to you. Thank you for your support, my darlings. A special thank you to my authors - Caitlin Daire (almost left you in as Caitlin D muahahaha), Jade West and Demi Donovan. You’re all MY. PEOPLE. <3 Love, Isabella