TYCOON_His Money. His Harley. His Control. Read online

  "I'm glad she liked it."

  "Are you kidding? She absolutely loved it. Hold on."

  Mason was surprised by the depth of his relief, then frowned with worry.

  "If you liked it so much, why didn't you call?" he muttered under his breath.

  "Mason, hi. Thanks so much for Buster. That's what I've named him. It was so kind of you."

  "It was my pleasure. I'm glad he arrived safely."

  "I truly apologize for not calling. I'm afraid I've been a bit under the weather. I'm much better now. I've even been working for a couple of days. I swear I was getting ready to call you today. That's so weird. Maybe we have a psychic connection or something."

  "I'm so sorry you've been unwell. May I ask what was wrong?"

  "Pneumonia."

  "Pneumonia? That's serious. No wonder you were down for the count. How did that happen?"

  "This will probably sound a bit crazy, but I'm a novelist and I get my ideas when I'm out walking. Sometimes I walk for miles and come home with an entire book in my head. The weather doesn't usually faze me, but we had that late cold snap. I guess I pushed the envelope."

  "Is there anything I can do?" he asked, kicking himself for not checking in with her sooner.

  "No, but thank you. It's really nice to hear from you. I'm sorry if I was rude when you were here. I was upset and I wasn't feeling quite myself. In fact, it was right after I received your wonderful gift that I passed out. Literally. I was diagnosed the next day. It's been a devil to get rid of."

  "I remember you standing in that freezing wind wearing just a track suit. I was concerned at the time."

  "Those five minutes probably pushed me over the edge, but tell me, how's Popcorn, sorry, Pete?"

  "You can still call him Popcorn if you want, and he's great. He's sitting right here on my lap."

  "I really miss him," she said, picturing the scene and wishing she was the one perched on the hot biker's knee, or naked and over it. "I, uh, don't suppose…"

  "Suppose, what?"

  "I could see him? I'm up and around and I'm not contagious."

  "He'd love that. I have an idea. Would you like me to bring over some take-out for dinner? That way Pete could join us."

  "That would be super, if it's not too much trouble."

  "It's no trouble at all. Would tomorrow night be okay?"

  "That would be super."

  "Do you like Italian?"

  "I'd love anything but chicken soup."

  "Why doesn't that surprise me?" Mason commented, laughing out loud.

  "I swear I was starting to grow a beak, and yes, I love Italian."

  "Is around seven okay?"

  "Seven is perfect. I'll have the table set and Pete's toys out. Does this mean I'm forgiven for being less than gracious when you were here? You should probably spank me for my bad behavior."

  She caught her breath, cringing as her face flamed red. She lived her decadent fantasies vicariously through her characters, but she'd never said anything so provocative to anyone in her life, especially not a leather-clad, Harley riding hunk like Mason.

  "Not that I've met any," she mumbled.

  "Excuse me?"

  "Sorry, I was thinking out loud."

  "Since you took such good care of Pete, yes, you're forgiven," then dropping his voice, he added, "and I'll be happy to spank you if you think you deserve it. I'll see you tomorrow night."

  "See you then," she muttered, and hastily ending the call, she turned and stared at her friend. "Shit, Nancy, what have I just done?"

  "I think you just invited a dreamy biker to spank you."

  "Oh! My! God!"

  "What did he say?"

  "He said he'd be happy to. I can't believe this. Shit! Am I as red as I think I am?"

  "Redder. Lucky you."

  In his office, grinning broadly and slightly taken aback, Mason lowered the phone from his ear.

  "Did I imagine that? This has to be too good to be true."

  "Are you ready for your coffee and sandwich?"

  Whirling his chair around, he saw George walking towards him holding a tray.

  "I didn't mean to startle you," George said apologetically. "I knocked, and when I poked my head in you didn't appear to be busy, so…"

  "Thinking, I was thinking," Mason said briskly. "Put it on the coffee table and cancel my dinner plans with the Baxters tomorrow night."

  The titillating exchange had resulted in a profound erection. Mason needed to stay put, and as he watched George carry the tray to the coffee table, he wondered if the young man had overheard. George rarely missed anything. As if proving the point, he didn't leave, but walked across to Mason's desk.

  "Mason, are you all right?"

  "Yes, fine, why do you ask?"

  "You look a bit flummoxed."

  "No, no, I'm not flummoxed, though— huh—now that I think about it, maybe I am. Nothing for you to worry about. It's personal."

  "Does this mean you're human after all?"

  "I'm afraid so. Close the door on your way out."

  "Should I hold your calls while you eat?"

  "Unless it's important."

  Waiting until George had left, Mason put Pete on the ground, pushed back from his desk, then walked across to the comfortable sofa.

  "Mary Austen," he mumbled as he sat down and picked up the china mug. "Are you related to the famous author? I wonder if you write under your real name. No. I'll bet you have an alias."

  Reaching for the tablet that lived permanently on the coffee table, he opened up the Amazon website, typed in the name, Mary Austen, Kindle Books, and waited. Nothing came up. Picking up his sandwich, he took a bite and tried again using M. Austen. An author by the name of M.T. Austen was listed, and clicking on the link he stared at the screen. The books were romance novels, and he broke into a broad grin as he looked at the first few titles.

  The Biker Who Spanked Me. Bound by the Biker. Spanked at Sunrise. The Duke's Lessons.

  "Well, well, well, is this you Mary Austen? Is that too much to hope for? The Biker Who Spanked Me sounds like it was written for me," he chuckled, clicking the link. "Looks like I'll have some entertaining reading with my glass of wine tonight."

  CHAPTER TWO

  Mason yawned, then rubbed his eyes and glanced at his watch. Just past 1:30 a.m. Unstrapping the alligator band, he placed the watch on his nightstand and shut down his Kindle, but as tired as he was he couldn't sleep. The salacious scenes in The Biker Who Spanked Me had left him with a raging erection.

  Pushing back the covers he took hold of his cock, and closing his eyes he imagined one of the erotic spanking episodes with Mary as his star. To punish the heroine for masturbating without permission, the biker had tied her over an ottoman, held a vibrator against her sex, and vigorously spanked her. Each time she pleaded for permission to orgasm, she was denied and made to count slowly to ten. It was a delightful fantasy, but as his orgasm rose up through his loins he paused his hand.

  There was another scenario he'd enjoyed just as much.

  The heroine had surprised the biker by preparing a candle-lit dinner and serving it in a risqué maid's outfit. After serving dessert she'd climbed under the table, unzipped his trousers, and sucked him hungrily as he'd enjoyed his chocolate cake.

  Mason could easily imagine Mary in the short black dress and white apron, and as he began to stroke he added a thought of his own. She was next to him, bent over the table, and he spanked her between bites of the delicious meal. Before he could picture her slipping under the table to take him into her mouth, a powerful climax surged through his cock. Surrendering to the potent eruption, he let out a series of deep groans, then falling limp he began to drift away.

  Stirring from his post-orgasmic stupor, he cursed himself for not having a cloth handy. Sighing heavily, he slipped from the sheets and padded into his bathroom. It was when he was about to return to the warm comfort of his bed that he caught his reflection in the mirror. His unruly shoulder length hair w
as gone. Would she be disappointed or pleasantly surprised?

  As CEO of Abbot Enterprises, Mason was clean shaven and dressed for success. Though he enjoyed a much more relaxed lifestyle when he took time off to regroup, both sides of his personality were genuine. If Mary was the M. T. Austen who penned The Biker Who Spanked Me, had his Harley riding persona been the attraction? Mason Abbott businessman didn't look anything like the guy dressed in leather who had knocked on her door.

  Ambling back to his bed, he switched off his bedside lamp and settled in. He didn't have to shave after work, so he could arrive at her door sporting the same five-o'clock shadow he'd had when they'd met. He could also wear his leathers and roll up on his bike, but there was nothing he could do about his hair.

  Swept away by a heavy yawn, he decided if she was genuinely attracted to him the different haircut wouldn't matter. During the few minutes he'd spent in her company he'd been uniquely drawn to her. There had been an indefinable something he'd found extremely sexy. It had also been a joy being in the company of a woman who didn't know he was rich and celebrated. If she'd cut her long beautiful hair in the four weeks since he'd seen her, it wouldn't matter to him one bit.

  And then there were the books.

  If she shared his love of bondage and discipline, she was a rare find. While the dinner the following evening was about getting to know each other, and affording her the opportunity to see Pete, he knew it was more than that for him. Much more.

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  While Mason had been reading The Biker Who Spanked Me, Mary had been in bed with her laptop. Mason's call had not just been a wonderful surprise, hearing his deep sexy voice had inspired her.

  But it had been more than his voice.

  The short tantalizing exchange, though deeply embarrassing, had stimulated her body and her mind, and she was writing the scene as it played itself out in her head.

  Was the cat out of the bag? Alice had inadvertently told the handsome bad boy one of her secret fantasies. She'd actually said, spank me if you dare!

  She'd almost died with embarrassment, but he'd simply chuckled. Had he taken her comment as a passing joke, or had he heard the truth behind it? She really did want to be spanked—by him! She wanted to be over his knee with her backside bared. Just the thought sent a hot flush to her face and a warm shiver through her body. He was due any moment. He'd knock on her door and she'd have to face him. She couldn't wait to see him, but how would she get through the first thirty-seconds, let alone the entire evening.

  Mary let out a sigh as she smiled. It was exactly how she was feeling, Once inside her house, what would Mason do, and how would she respond? Resting her fingertips lightly on the keys, she waited to see where her characters would take her.

  The sound of Brock's bike announced his arrival. Moving into the foyer, Alice paused to check her appearance in the decorative mirror hanging on the wall. Fluffing her hair, she took a deep breath and opened the door. He was next to the motorcycle removing his helmet, and the wind sent his long hair dancing around his handsome face. As he approached, she stepped aside and gestured for him to enter, but he stopped in front of her, grabbed her around the waist, and in a husky voice said,

  "Let's get this out of the way."

  Leaning down he touched his lips to hers, then suddenly the touch turned into a crushing kiss. Her knees fell weak as a thousand butterflies burst to life, then breaking away as abruptly as he'd taken her, he moved his mouth to her ear.

  "You dared me to spank you. Were you serious? The truth."

  "Uh, sort of."

  "It's a yes or no question."

  "Uh, yes," she breathed, her entire being melting into the powerful arms holding her.

  "Then I'll put you out of your misery and get that out of the way as well. You can sit through dinner on a hot bottom."

  As he swooped her up and carried her into her living room, she buried her flaming face in the crook of his shoulder.

  "I'm going to flip you over my knee, but don't worry, I won't let you drop."

  His body was hard, his arms muscled, and his deep voice reassuring, but as he deftly moved her through the air she was sure she'd end up tumbling to the floor. Miraculously she didn't, but she did find herself over his lap, and he was pulling her dress up and her panties down.

  Mary could feel the warm moisture between her legs, her pulse was racing and her face was hot. She didn't know Mason at all, but that didn't stop her from wanting him to sweep her off her feet and devour her just the way Brock was devouring Alice. It was ridiculous and impossible and would never happen, but she wanted it so badly she could hardly stand it. She knew what she'd be writing next. As Alice squirmed, Brock would slap her backside red, then slip his fingers into her sex, and though he'd find her deliciously wet he'd make her wait.

  "They'll have dinner in a dimly lit restaurant, he'll move his hand under the table and tease her during the meal, then bring her home and ravage her mercilessly," she murmured. "Why can't that happen in real life? It's what my readers love to imagine, and it's what we secretly want to have happen, so why can't we be carried away by our boyfriends and husbands? Maybe some women are. I hope so. I hope I will be one of these days."

  Closing the laptop and laying it on the floor next to her bed, she pushed back the covers and moved her fingers against her hungry pussy. Closing her eyes, Mason became Brock. The scene began to play itself, and chasing her orgasm, she rubbed herself fervently. With the image of Mason spanking her, the divine spasms rippled through her body, shooting scintillating pins and needles through her limbs. Breathless and tingling she drifted into sleep, and though she knew it was an unlikely wish, she prayed for her fantasy to come true.

  CHAPTER THREE

  The following morning, before she was even fully awake, Mary could feel energy flowing through her veins. Opening her eyes, she sat up and looked across at her window. The curtains were closed, but she could see it was a sunny day.

  "I'm going for a walk," she exclaimed triumphantly. "I'm actually going for a walk."

  Padding into her bathroom, she turned on the shower, and as she waited for the water to turn hot she studied her reflection. Her eyes were bright and she had color in her cheeks.

  "I look how I feel," she said happily. "It's about time."

  She showered, washed her hair and blew it dry, then dressed in her favorite fleece track suit. The sun was out, but she knew the temperature would still be in the thirties. The weather report said the cold air was moving out, but not until the evening hours. Pouring granola in a bowl and adding a banana, she sat down and began to eat. She thought about checking in with her sister, Jeanine, but Jeanine was also her doctor and would probably say no. Mary didn't want to hear it.

  Promising herself she'd just amble across to the park, she downed the last of her coffee and washed her dishes, then headed to the front door, stopping at the hall closet. She donned her sheepskin lined coat, looped a woolen scarf around her neck and pulled on her gloves. As she stepped outside the cold breeze kissed her face, but she had wrapped herself up well, and smiling up at the bright blue sky she started off to the park.

  Immediately her creative juices began to flow. By the time she was at the park the next two chapters had written themselves in her head. Her favorite spot was near the lake just a short distance ahead, but as she continued on she became winded. Pushing forward she reached the seat, and dropping down she took in a deep breath. It felt chilly as it hit the back of her throat.

  "Have I been an idiot? Maybe I shouldn't have come this far," she panted. "I'll just sit here for a few minutes then go home."

  A shadow fell over her, and lifting her eyes she spied a wave of cirrocumulus clouds. She prided herself in her knowledge of meteorology, and she recognized their threat. They could produce icy rain, possibly even snow. She needed to get home.

  Rising to her feet, she glanced across the lake, and to her great surprise she saw Popcorn. His big ears and short stocky body were hard
to miss, but the man walking him was dressed in a stylish camel coat, and he had short hair. He was the epitome of a well-heeled businessman. She smiled. He could easily have been a character out of her British Billionaires series. It obviously wasn't Mason, so it couldn't be Popcorn, though the little terrier looked just like him.

  Turning to head off she heard the dog barking, and looking back she saw him at the water's edge staring across at her, but as the man continued on, the little dog reluctantly followed.

  A minute later, thoughts of the cute terrier were replaced by worry.

  She was beginning to feel cold, and the clouds were thickening. As she exited the park the first few drops of rain began dotting the pavement. She quickened her pace. Reaching her house, as she unlocked her door she began to feel off-color, and walking inside she moved straight to the fireplace, turned it on, and sat on the floor directly in front of the flames.

  "I really hope this doesn't set me back," she sighed, slowly peeling off her coat and scarf. "Please, dear God, don't let this set me back."

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  Mason couldn't believe it. Mary had been at the park! Pete had spotted her, and his excited barking had sent Mason's eyes across the lake. He wasn't ready for her to see him as a wealthy businessman, and he couldn't help but wonder if she'd recognized him. The question continued to plague him as he hurried back to his office. She hadn't called out to him, which was promising, but surely she must have known the barking terrier was Pete. The adorable dog's mix of breeds gave him a truly unique appearance.

  The sky had been virtually clear when he'd left the office, but the wet stuff had started when he was a few minutes from his building. As he walked into the lobby, it occurred to him Mary may have been caught in it as she headed home. He hoped not, especially after such a serious illness.