CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Beth
“Baby, wake up.” Mason’s deep, powerful voice pulled me up from the darkness. “Let’s go home.”
Where was I? What was going on?
My eyes flickered open to see the big man looming above me, strong jaw cast in shadow. I squirmed and leaves crackled beneath my butt. Oh god. The park. That scary guy who tried to attack me. I gasped and looked around, frightened once again.
But Mason was here now.
“No worries honey. He’s gone. But we still have to get you out of here.” Slowly, I nodded, grabbing Mason’s big palm. And with a lurch, I was up, balancing shakily on my own two feet. The billionaire curved an arm around my waist, and I almost sobbed then. Because it felt so good, so warm and reassuring, but it shouldn’t have. He’d betrayed me, and here I was, melting into that maleness. Why was I so weak?
But Mason had other things on his mind.
“Come on, sweet thing,” he grabbed my arm urgently. “Git.”
Okay, okay. I could do this.
Taking a deep breath, I tumbled after Mason through the towering oaks, cold and afraid. Even with that muscular back leading the way, the night was still ominous, gray clouds trailing over the skies.
Because who was that man? Who was Jonas? Were other threats coming as well?
Terrified, my hand crept to my throbbing throat involuntarily. The skin stung where my attacker had squeezed, marks sure to show up tomorrow in mottled purple and red. And like an idiot, tears flowed hotly then, short, sharp, panted breaths escaping my lungs.
Because what had happened?
Who was that man?
I was okay now, right?
But I wasn’t safe. My attacker, Jonas, clearly knew Mason. So what was I doing, putting my life in the billionaire’s hands? My heart too?
The tears flowed like a river as we ran through the park.
Faster and faster, the ground churned by, even as my mind whirled.
It’d just been dreams.
My perfect existence had been nothing more than unicorns and rainbows, the fantasies of a stupid girl.
And reality was a thousand times worse, ugly with jagged edges.
God, why was this happening?
Mason stopped then, taking my hand urgently.
“Shh, baby, he won’t hurt you anymore. I promise.”
But I jerked my hand away from his, eyes wild.
“Don’t touch me!” was my shriek. “Don’t you ever touch me again!”
I didn’t want anyone to brush up against my filth. After all, noxious fumes emanated from my form, bits of vomit in my hair. I was a disgusting and dirty girl who’d spread her legs for the world to see. I was nothing more than a cunt attached to a bag of skin.
What had I done to deserve this?
Why me?
I thought our lovemaking had been amazing, Mason transporting us to another world. But instead, it’d just been a farce. What I believed was magical was actually slutty and whorish.
He’d used my body, nothing more.
I was just another sleazy whore, legs spread, pussy open as other men watched.
And then the worst part came. The voice in my head whispered, devilishly insistent. But you got paid, didn’t you? it hissed. You got your money, just like you bargained for.
The sobs came harder. Yes, I got paid by Mason that first afternoon in his office. Three G’s. It was so much cash that I would have done anything back then.
But I didn’t know it’d be like this! screamed my brain in protest. This wasn’t part of the bargain!
And the tears just came harder as we resumed running. But the situation was overwhelming. Shame made me gag. And even while running, vomit rushed up in my throat, tasting like garbage. I dropped to my knees then and threw up in the dried leaves, heaving and crying, a slobbery mess.
“Baby, don’t cry,” Mason growled, expression agonized. The big man tried to pull me to my feet but I jerked back, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand.
Don’t cry. Easy for him to say when I was the one with my soul torn, life shattered into pieces.
But there was nowhere to go but Mason’s apartment for the moment. The billionaire’s penthouse was right on the edge of the park, so with heavy feet, I stumbled behind him into the lobby, hunched down into my jacket.
The doorman saw, but he didn’t ask. Highly paid professionals never inquire, and the man merely nodded, face impassive, greeting Mason with a courteous, “Good evening, sir.”
And finally, we were in the apartment, elevator doors whooshing open to reveal the luxury within. But I couldn’t see it. I didn’t care, not anymore. Neither the expensive furnishings nor extraordinary view made a difference, not when I was hurting like this.
My form dropped limply onto the couch, hunched over like a homeless person. Shivering, I pulled my bag against my stomach like it could protect me somehow.
But it was too late for that.
The damage was done.
I was a fool, an utter fool.
Mason’s deep growl interrupted my train of thought.
“Here. For the cold.”
A thick shearling jacket settled around my shoulders, the scent a mix of clean lambswool and virile male musk. I gripped it with desperate fingers, pulling the material tight. Because even now, the aroma soothed me, spicy and aromatic, filling my nostrils. Tears spurted in my eyes once more, unbidden. Why was this happening? Pain tore through my stomach like vicious claws.
It’s just a jacket! Screamed my brain. Get over it!
That’s right. The gesture didn’t mean a damn thing. Not love. Not even common decency.
Mr. Carlton just felt sorry for me after that encounter with Jonas.
Nothing more.
I sniffled and squeezed my eyes shut before looking around the room. Memories of this place flooded my mind. Memories that were all lies now. Mason and I, rolling around on the couch. Me, head over heels, letting him touch where he wanted. Screaming even, as he made me a woman.
But it was all lies.
How many girls were there, just like me?
Shrieking his name, only to be logged in the fuck book later?
I gagged again, remembering all the entries I’d seen. They probably thought they were special too. But they weren’t. Just like I wasn’t.
I was idiot to think somebody like Mason, a gorgeous billionaire with oodles of money, would be interested. Girls probably threw themselves at him every day, baring their boobies and offering their all.
I was a dunce.
A man like this would never be interested in a curvy girl. Not then. Not now. Not ever.
Suddenly my reverie was interrupted.
“Drink this, babe.” Mason’s big body loomed up above, arm outstretched with a glass of water. Then he sat, but the man had the sense to keep a few feet of space between us. Good. I wanted him wary. I wanted him to suffer, after what I’d been through.
But it didn’t work because I’m not that kind of person. Staring at the glass, I only remembered the cozy, homey details. How he liked mint in his water. Preferred turkey in his ground meat at home and steak when he went out. Wanted the unscented dryer sheets instead of the flowery kind. But this was the stupid shit that got me in trouble to begin with. Because I knew all these meaningless details, but nothing real. It was just a bunch of trivia that created the impression of knowing someone.
I sobbed even harder then, keening a bit, rocking back and forth on the couch. Snot slid down the back of my throat. Tears gushed down my face. Mason stared at my form, agonized.
“Are you okay?” were his hoarse words. “Are you okay, sweetheart?”
Did he really just ask me…?
Are you fucking shitting me?
I was just assaulted!
He showed my naked pics to a dozen of his best buddies!
And everything hit full throttle then.
“Am I okay?!” I screamed the question back at him. “What do you think? Does it look to you like I’m okay? What kind of question is that?”
My fingernails dug into the leather and shearling jacket. My whole world was being destroyed by a giant hurricane, and nothing would ever be the same again. I was in love with a man who didn’t love me back. And in fact, had never loved me.
“Honey, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for any of it to happen like this.” His voice was an agonized rasp, like it was being torn from his throat. The billionaire stood up, then paced away, running those fingers through coal-black hair.
“For it to happen like what?” I snapped. “Because now that I look back on things, it seems like you planned everything. You’re a slick guy, aren’t you?” My words gained strength and speed, becoming hurling fireballs. “Nothing ever just happens to the CEO. I don’t believe that for a second.”
The man stood in front of me, hands in the pockets of his expensive pants, blue eyes bleak and dark with pain. Or was that fake pain? Was this all a set-up again?
“Baby, please.” He took a step closer. “Let me explain.”
But what was there to explain?
It was clear how he felt. It was clear by his actions, by that fucking fuck book, by all the photos. But some things still weren’t clear, and it was better to rip the Band-Aid off in one go. So glaring like a hellcat, I pulled the jacket closer and snapped.
“I found your notebook and the pictures,” were my icy words.
Just saying it out loud made the tears roll once more. But I was gonna do it. I was gonna get some answers, even if it was like stabbing myself in the heart over and over again. “What were they for? Who did you show them to?”
He was silent for a moment, looking down.
“Tell me, Mason!” I demanded on a scream. “I want to know why!”
That handsome face twisted with misery. Maybe he was sorry. Maybe he regretted it. But that was just a load of bullcrap. No one who does depraved shit like that is ever really sorry.
Steeling myself, I stared hard at the big form. God, he was gorgeous. Tall and massive, blue eyes staring into my soul. And I hated myself even more, shame rising hot and fast in my chest once more.
But this didn’t have to happen. Mason doesn’t control you anymore, the voice in my head whispered. Be yourself, Beth. Take charge.
The billionaire pressed his lips together, still thinking. And then he lifted those blue eyes, a mass of swirling emotions in those crystal depths.
“It was a contest,” he began, the words curdling on his lips like they were sour to taste. “Just a contest.”
A contest? Scoring pictures of naked girls and rating them? Talking about them like they were pieces of meat to chew up and spit out, not even good enough to swallow? Was this some kind of depraved frat house? Or some animal farm, where the ladies were pigs raised for slaughter?
But I kept my mouth shut, waiting for an explanation.
“When I first got to the city and started making money, I wanted to belong,” he rumbled slowly. “I finally made the piles of cash that had haunted me since childhood. I was able to give my mother all the things she deserved, all the things she fought hard to give me as a kid. A roof over my head, nutritious food on the table. She worked like crazy after my father left so I didn’t have to drop out of school to support the family.”
He sighed heavily, expression torn.
“I had the money. I had the boats, the apartments, even the planes. I had a job that practically did itself and you know what? It was fucking boring. So I got caught up with these guys,” he admitted. “They seemed like the shit at first. Rich as fuck, doing whatever they wanted. Drugs, cars, girls, all that at a snap of their fingers.”
I stared at him. Really? Drugs, cars, girls? That’s what was important to Mason? Clearly, I didn’t know this guy at all, pain kicking me in the gut.
But Mason was caught in his own reverie. Shoes scuffing against marble floors, the billionaire paced to the other side of the room, staring blindly at the bright lights of the city.
“We’ve been doing this shit for a long time. Too long. And one of those things is the fuck book. It’s what it sounds like,” he said, swinging around to look at me, eyes blazing. “A log of girls we fuck and how good they are. If they were good, we shared them. Sometimes all twelve of us had a girl at the same time. Other times just one on one.”
I gasped. Oh god, this was even worse than I anticipated. Twelve on one? Who … what …?
Mason winced as the story continued.
“So yeah, we were a bunch of depraved idiots. Using females. Logging it, then sharing them and comparing notes. It’s fucked-up, I know, and there’s no one who regrets it more than me.”
I snorted then. It was an ugly sound, filled with disgust and contempt.
Mason nodded, head bowed.
“It’s bad, for sure. But believe it or not, the fuck book thing was getting boring. So we decided to shake it up a little,” he said, taking a deep breath, “and that meant virgins.”
I stared at him, silence pounding.
“What do you mean, virgins?” were my slow words.
Mason shook his head slowly, eyes still regretful.
“It was a different kind of challenge, something to switch things up. So yeah, we hatched this idea that for the next iteration of the fuck book, we were gonna find virgins to take. And then, you know ….” He shrugged helplessly again.
But I wasn’t letting the big man off so easy.
“No, I don’t know,” came my snarled words. “Please tell me.”
The billionaire shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot. Good. He deserved the hot seat.
“So we were all gonna find a virgin, and you know, take a pic of her hymen.” He had the grace to blush then. At least he was embarrassed enough that a dark burn rose on those chiseled cheeks. “Then we were going to compare, and someone would win.”
I didn’t believe for one minute that things were that simple.
“Compare how?” were my sharp words. “What does that mean? Were you all gonna fuck the winning girl? Was that her reward for ‘winning,’ so to say?” I asked sarcastically, using air quotes.
Mason was unable to meet my eyes. But he nodded slowly.
“We were going to share the pictures,” came his pained voice. “We were going to pass the pics around, letting everyone take a look. And then share details of the girls, you know, how much they bled, whether they screamed, whether or not they were able to fit dick in the first time. Some girls can’t, you know,” he said swiftly. “Some virgins are so antsy and jumpy, that you can’t even get your cock in their hole.”
My soul curdled, eyes closing in pain. Because I wasn’t that virgin. I was an innocent who was a slut too, parting my thighs for him, urging him to put it in. In fact, I’d begged for it, if memory served me right. I wanted Mason’s cock so bad that I’d panted and pleaded, swallowing that ten-incher like a python devouring its prey.
Holy shit.
Humiliation swept through my frame like a savage fire.
The men had seen that, they’d seen Mason’s dick in my virgin cunt, nether lips stretched so wide as my puss creamed hotly.
I wanted to scream and pound the walls with rage, pull my hair out while kicking a hole in the brick.
But the pictures were already out.
They couldn’t be taken back.
There was nothing to be done.
So I took a deep breath, jaw stiff.
“And? So what happened next?”
Mason shook his head miserably then.
“I’m not trying to paint things over, but I want you to know that I didn’t share your pictures. I had them for sure, right in my pocket. But I never showed the guys your snaps, they didn’t see anything.”
Yeah, right.
It was a fucking lie.
I could feel it in my bones.
“Okay,” I replied, voice flat. “What else?”
Mason shot me a tortured look.
“So we all talked about our experiences,” he began.
“Including you?” I snapped.
“Including me,” he confirmed miserably. “And then a winner was declared.
“And was that you?” I demanded, eyes hot with anger. Oh my god, had he won this depraved contest on the backs of my parted thighs? On the stories of how much I’d bled, how I’d begged for his fat cock my first time?
But Mason shook his head vehemently.
“No, not even close. This other dude won because he had two girls. You know … identical twins who were virgins.”
And I vomited again then. This was so sick and depraved. I didn’t mean to, not all over Mason’s fancy jacket and suede couch, but the words nauseated me. This fuck book thing was just too much. Virgin twins who begged to get their hymens punched on screen? Girls who spread their legs for a price, who would let men do anything to them, no matter how humiliating?
I could see it already. The billionaires in a circle, hooting and hollering as slide after slide of depravity flashed before them.
Girls cooing and sighing, touching themselves.
Holding their pussies open.
Getting ready for cock.
And oh god!
One of those slides was me.
It had to be, Mason’s bullshit about keeping mine private was just that. A load of crap.
And trembling then, I got to my feet, trying to stay calm. Well, as calm as you can be when your mouth tastes like acid and vomit’s flecking your hair and chin.
“I have to go,” were my low words. “Right now. I have to go.”
Mason’s expression was anguished.
“Baby, please,” he began again, gesturing futilely with those big hands. “It’s not that bad, I swear. And I didn’t show your pictures, I swear on my mother’s grave.”
That did it.
This guy only cared about himself.
“Mother’s grave? Who the fuck cares about your mother? I’m the one who was violated! Me!” came my scream, spittle flying from my lips, face a mottled red. “Me! You didn’t give a shit about me, not at all!”
Mason ducked his head, big hands in his pockets.
“I made a mistake,” were his quiet words, a deep breath expanding his chest. “I’m so sorry Beth.”
But I didn’t care.
“You’re sorry? You’re sorry? How about me!” I screamed again, my voice ten decibels in the expansive space, reverberating off the gleaming white walls. “How about me?”
And silence rang out then. Because there was nothing he could do to make it right. What happened was sordid and disgusting, the billionaire’s betrayal shaking me to the core. And it hurt like hell too. Deep inside, my heart splintered into smithereens, the shards lodging in my gut.
Turning shakily, I stumbled to the door, but not without one last jab. But this time, I was so cold that it was scary.
“Goodbye,” came my dead voice. “You’re not the man I thought you were, Mr. Carlton.”
And the words hurt him, for sure. The billionaire winced like I’d struck him in the face, pain evident on that handsome face. But he didn’t follow me, instead remaining rooted to the floor, hands in pockets. He stared, blue eyes filled with regret and a swirl of other emotions. I’d feel sorry for him if the situation weren’t so dire.
Because it doesn’t matter anymore. Coulda, shoulda, woulda. The hard facts are that this man betrayed me. This is the man who played me like a silly fool, paying me for some photos in the name of “research.” Research, my ass. It was all for his boys’ club, those assholes trying to one up each other with their big dicks and bigger egos.
And dully, I stepped into the elevator, seeing nothing. Hot tears made me squeeze my eyes shut, but they didn’t fall this time. Because I won’t let this destroy me. Even if I’m just a shell now, insides crumbling into dust, I won’t let him know. I won’t let Mason see how I’m breaking into pieces, how he’s destroyed my heart, my head and my life. I won’t. I can’t. It was me, Beth White, before, and I’ll find that girl again. I have to … because there’s no choice but to move on.