Mr. President 2(173)

I tap my cell phone and check the time. It's almost 8 pm.

I jump up and rummage through the top drawer of my dresser … where I've neatly stashed an enviable collection of lingerie. I decide to pick out something a little … naughty. I grab a sheer, black lace set. You can't go wrong with black. It's sexy and classy, and flatters everyone who wears it. If you don't believe me, you can ask Aubrey Hepburn or even the stripper down the street at Scandals. And if you ask men, most will pick black. Yes it's true, more men, if given the choice, will choose black even over red.

Next, I spritz myself with a little perfume, something ultra feminine—a floral scent that is sexy, like walking through a secret garden of jasmine and orchids, and rolling around in a bed of roses. I dab some perfume on the pulse of my wrists, on my neck … and even a dab in between my thighs. The fragrance is impossible to miss, which is a good thing. When it comes to Mason, I want to be unforgettable.

I also need to also think about clothes for the morning. Maybe we'll splurge and grab breakfast at Norma's—their Papaya Mango Brown Butter Cinnamon crepes are seriously to die for. I'm not even exaggerating. If you haven't tried them hun, I suggest you do sometime.

And honestly, the thought of waking up next to Mason tomorrow morning makes me giddy. I don't know what's come over me, but the thought of nuzzling into his strong chiseled chest and walking hand-in-hand with the King of Wall Street down the streets of New York City is enough to make my heart leap.

A man has never made me feel this way before.

I lean down and zip up my overnight bag when I hear something.

There's a thump, and then I hear what sounds like two people laughing in the living room. It's normally quiet around this time, so the commotion piques my interest. Maybe my mother is talking to Carl? I didn't think mom was having any guests over tonight, so I walk over by the wall and strain to hear.

"You like what you see?" Lorna says. "This is just the beginning … a taste, if you will."

A man replies, “You think you’re going to have me?”

"Oh, just wait till I wrap my lips around—"

The rest of the conversation is muffled and I strain against the door to hear more. It's clear that something is going on, and then something else becomes crystal clear … the man's voice is … Mason.

What in the hell is he doing here? He's supposed to be at his apartment. We made plans. And what's he doing with my mother?

Yes, I know they're married, but only on paper. He swore it was all against his will.

But if that's the case, why is he in my mother's house in our living room … being seduced by the sound of it?

"Ah, ah, ah—no hands … yet anyways," Lorna purrs. "Someone's awfully eager."

“That’s not what I came here to do,” he says. “This wasn’t what we agreed to, Lorna.”

"I'll tell you where, when, and how I want you. All you need to do darling is follow my lead," she replies.

"I'm not a man used to taking orders," he replies. "Especially not from women."

"I'll think you'll find this a nice change of pace," she replies.

What exactly is happening in there? By the sound of things, Mason seems to be going along with my mother's desires. This isn't the man I know … or maybe I never really knew him at all.

I feel a boulder-sized rock nestle itself into the pit of my stomach and I can barley breath. It's a heaviness I can't shake.

Maybe Mason isn't the man I thought he was.#p#分页标题#e#

One thing's for sure; I definitely won't be going to his apartment tonight.

I reach for my overnight bag and draw back the zipper. I grab the lingerie sitting on top of my clothes and wipe back a tear that's threatening to spill out from the corner of my eye.

I throw the lingerie to the floor in disgust.

I'm not helpless, and I'm certainly not weak, or gullible.

If that's what he thinks, he doesn't know me at all.





181





Mason





Lorna is right fucking here. Her tits are nearly spilling out of her dress. Her body is angled into mine. Even the way that I'm sitting has my cock open to her and don't I fucking know it, I feel first her knee rubbing at my crotch, and then her hand starts massaging my cock through my trousers.

She's squeezing it, palpitating it like a shoe saleseman as she squeezes down the shaft looking for the head.

She finally reaches it, and just by her manipulation, she's gotten me fucking hard.

Understand before you get fucking pissed at me that I have zero attraction to Lorna Lowell—I refuse to even think of her with my last name. I fucking hate what she's done to the people around her—her father, her daughter, you name it. There is no way I want to fuck her in this lifetime.