“Hel o? Kai Mason? Are you in the room?” I cal ed and when he kept staring at me, I kept talking. “Cal ing Kai Mason, girlfriend needs a good f**king, right… about…
now.”
That’s when he spoke.
And this is what he said.
“God, I love you.”
Then he f**ked me.
* * * * *
Even though he didn’t have to, Mace f**ked me until he erased everything from my head but what he wanted there. Then he did it again.
Then he did it again.
Then he left me facedown in bed, pul ed the torn sheet up to my waist, took Juno out, came back, took a shower, ate a piece of coffee cake and came back to the bed.
I hadn’t moved a muscle. I snoozed a bit but mostly I listened to his noises in my house.
When he sat on the bed and shifted the hair out of my face and off my shoulder so he could lean in and kiss my neck, I asked (my voice messed up because my face was scrunched in the pil ow), “How can you move around?”
“Kitten, you need to get in better shape.”
“I’m going to have to cancel tonight’s gig.”
“You’l recover by then.”
“You tore my sheet.”
“I’l buy you a new one.”
“I don’t want a new one. I think I’m going to have this one bronzed.”
Then he said weirdly, “I understand it now.” My eyes had been closed but I opened them and shifted them to look at him.
“Understand what?” I asked.
“Why the men put up with the Rock Chicks.” Uh-oh.
I had a feeling we were going to get heavy again.
I came up on my elbows and said softly, “And why’s that?”
He didn’t answer, instead he said, “Couldn’t believe it but since I couldn’t come up with an explanation, I always thought they were whipped.”
I grinned. “And they’re not?”
He grinned back. “Men like us don’t get whipped, babe.”
“Bul shit,” I said under my breath, stil grinning.
“That isn’t it.”
“Admit it. It’s a part of it,” I teased.
“It’s easy to find a piece.”