A drink and polite formalities first. “Sure,” he said amicably. “What are you having?”
“An apple martini.”
Mason motioned the bartender over and placed their order. “She’ll have an apple martini, and I’ll have a Bulleit neat.”
The bartender moved away to make their drinks, and the woman turned her body toward him on her seat and pushed out those breasts toward him. Yeah, he had no doubt she’d done this before, too. Perfect.
“So, are you visiting Vegas, or do you live here?” she asked as she crossed one slender leg over the other.
“Visiting from Chicago,” he replied, wishing like hell his body would get on board with his plan to get laid, so he could get it over with. “I’m here for my brother’s wedding this weekend.”
“That’s nice. Are you with anyone here at the club?”
He didn’t think she cared about his brother and Tara, but was instead asking about a significant other. Katrina once again popped into his mind, and the unexpected guilt that twisted in his gut made him shift in his seat. He had nothing to feel remorseful about, he told himself, and tried to focus on the woman next to him.
“No,” he replied. “I’m here on my own.”
“Me, too,” she said, and licked her bottom lip.
All Mason could think about were Katrina’s lips, and all the dirty, filthy things he still wanted to do to that soft, warm mouth. He hadn’t gotten nearly enough last night.
The bartender delivered the drinks, and Mason pulled two twenties from his wallet and gave them to the guy. “Keep the change.”
“Thanks, man,” the server said, and moved on to another customer.
The woman took a generous sip of her martini and placed her hand on his thigh, clearly making the first move. Normally, his cock would perk right up and he’d be raring to go. He didn’t feel so much as a twinge of sexual desire. Nada. Nothing. His dick was giving him a big ol’ fuck you. How in the hell was he going to shake off Katrina if his body refused to cooperate?
“So, you’re here all alone, and so am I,” the woman said as she brazenly skimmed her fingers up his thigh until her hand was palming the front of his jeans. “How about we finish these drinks and go somewhere more . . . private?”
She was massaging the bulge beneath the zipper with expert hands, and he waited for it to happen, for his shaft to get hard and . . . zilch. Beyond frustrated, he closed his eyes and instantly recalled the way Katrina had cupped him through his jeans last night, how she’d rubbed and squeezed him until he’d thought he was going to come in his pants.
His cock suddenly throbbed at the erotic memory and finally started to stiffen, but now this woman’s caresses felt dirty and wrong.
“Fuck,” he swore irritably, and pushed the woman’s hand away, harder than he’d intended.
She sat back, looking more pissed than hurt. “Jesus, are you gay?”
He would have laughed if he weren’t so damn aggravated at the entire situation. “No, I’m not fucking gay.”
“You don’t have to get defensive about it,” she said peevishly. “They have things you can take for that sort of . . . problem.”
This time, he did laugh, the sound low and harsh. The only thing that would cure him of his problem was Katrina herself. Until then, his own dick was cock-blocking him. Fucking fantastic.
He tossed back his whiskey and gave the woman an apologetic glance. It wasn’t her fault that his cock had suddenly gone on strike. “I’m sorry,” he said, and decided to go before he embarrassed himself further.
He didn’t bother to tell Tara and Levi that he was leaving, and they’d probably assume that he was off somewhere getting laid, which would have been the case if his penis weren’t on protest. Feeling uneasy and restless, he went back to the casino and sat down at one of the high-dollar blackjack tables that required a minimum of one hundred dollars per bet.
After losing five hundred dollars in the span of five minutes, he did the smart thing and stopped . . . but there was no shutting down his undeniable need for one woman, and one woman only. Katrina. And that realization scared the shit out of him, because it made him feel way too vulnerable, like he was losing control not only physically but emotionally, too.
He craved the relief that only she could provide, and he needed it badly. One time and she’d become his fix, and he desperately needed one more hit so he could fuck her out of his system, so that when they returned to Chicago, they could revert to being best friends, because that’s all he could ever be for her. He was too fucked up, and she deserved a man who could love her wholly and completely.
One more night. That’s all he needed, he told himself like the addict he was as he headed toward the hotel elevators, that frantic anticipation already surging through his veins. Lust. Desire. That was what he knew. What he understood. And once he had a few hours to wring every ounce of pleasure from Katrina’s body, he’d be able to walk away, leaving them both satisfied, and still friends.
Chapter Seven
Katrina was curled up on one of the soft, comfortable armchairs in the suite’s living room reading a book in an attempt to distract her thoughts from what, or rather who, Mason was doing, when someone knocked on her door.
She frowned. She wasn’t expecting room service, but when the rapping sound came again, this time more firmly, she set her e-reader on the coffee table and padded in her bare feet to the entryway. She glanced through the peephole and sucked in a shocked breath when she saw Mason standing on the other side.
She couldn’t imagine what he was doing here when she’d fully expected him to be off cavorting with another woman by now. Having spent the past hour tormenting herself with all sorts of sordid scenarios, she was both relieved and curious to know what he wanted this late at night. And just in case it was important, or an emergency, she opened the door, regardless of the fact that she was wearing a tank top without a bra and a pair of drawstring pajama shorts.
She noticed right away that he looked tense—both his body and his expression. His hair was a mess, too, as if he’d repeatedly combed his fingers through the strands, and a frustrated frown pulled at his brows.
“Is everything okay?” she asked anxiously.
“Everything and everyone is fine,” he rushed to reassure her, as if knowing that she’d automatically think the worst. He exhaled a deep breath, which seemed to ease some of his tension. “Can I come in?”
She nodded. “Yeah, sure.”
Stepping aside, she let him walk past, but deliberately didn’t lead him into the living room. They remained in the entryway, because whatever his reason for being here, if there wasn’t an emergency, she decided he wouldn’t be there for long. Then it dawned on her that he was probably there to rehash the conversation they’d had after the wedding and ask her again if she was okay. Ugh. She so didn’t want to go there again.
“Mason . . . I’m really not in the mood to talk,” she said with a sigh.
The light in his eyes changed, and his expression turned almost wolfish—a look she recognized from when he zeroed in on a woman he wanted, but that he was now directing at her. Everything inside of Katrina automatically responded to that suddenly predatory gaze. Her heart raced and her body tingled in awareness.
He glanced down at where her tank top molded to her breasts, her nipples now poking hard against the fabric. A sinful smile tugged at the corner of his mouth when he met her gaze again. “That’s good, because I’m not here to talk.”
He took two slow steps toward her, and she instinctively backed up the same amount—and gasped when her ass encountered the wall behind her. Without hesitating, he flattened his palms on either side of her head—just as he’d done last night, right before everything had turned hot and wild between them.
She tried, desperately, not to give in to him like his normal easy conquests. “Then what are you here for?”
He shifted in front of her, deliberately brushing his body against hers, just lightly enough to tease. �
��I’m here to see if you’re in the mood for a few more orgasms,” he said huskily.
She blinked at him, then laughed softly—which helped to alleviate any last lingering strain between them. And it definitely piqued her interest. “You’re such a sweet-talker, Mase.”
He shrugged. “No sense beating around the bush when it’s something I know we both enjoyed last night.”
She couldn’t deny that, and then she had a thought. “Oh, my God, did you strike out at Hyde?” she asked incredulously.
Something flickered in his gaze, a brief flash of annoyance that he covered just as quickly. “I had offers, but none that appealed to me.”
“And I do?” The thought sent a thrill through her, and caused her entire body to feel warm and liquid.
“Let me test that theory,” he said, his voice underscored with humor as he grabbed her hand and placed it at the crotch of his jeans. With his gaze searing into hers, he curled her fingers around the thick outline of his shaft and shuddered.
“Fuck, yeah, you appeal to me,” he said, a combination of relief and triumph chasing across his gorgeous features as his cock seemingly pulsed against her palm. “And I’m betting if I pushed my fingers between your legs, you’d be wet and slick with an equal amount of desire.”
There was absolutely no way she could deny that claim, so she didn’t even try. “You’re so damned cocky.”
“I am,” he agreed shamelessly as his eyes turned a dark, hot blue and he rubbed her hand harder against his solid erection that had grown to twice its size since she’d first touched him. “Which means you get all the cock you can handle.”
She swallowed hard, her mind spinning. She’d be lying to herself if she said she didn’t want one more night with him. But she also knew that’s all this could be, because she wasn’t the kind of woman who could be his fuck buddy on a regular basis and not let her emotions get in the way. Her feelings for him were already so complicated, and things were going to change between them once they returned to Chicago. They had to, for her own heart and sanity.
But tonight . . . she wanted Mason and all that aggressive dominance that excited her so much. And it was imperative that he understood that tonight would be on her terms.
“I have one condition,” she said, trying her best to think straight when he settled his big, warm hands on her hips and slowly slid them upward, pushing the hem of her tank top up as he went.
“And what’s that?” he asked huskily, his palms stopping at the indentation of her waist.
She nearly moaned as his thumbs lazily grazed her stomach, making her nipples pebble so tight they ached. “What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas,” she finally managed to say. “Once we get back to Chicago, no more hooking up. This is it.”
“Agreed,” he said with a nod, then grinned. “It’ll be our dirty little secret.”
“I’m totally on board with dirty.” And she was dying for him to close the distance to her breasts and take them in his hands.
“That makes two of us.” He continued stroking his thumbs around her navel and tipped his head to the side. “You said today that the sex last night was just good.”
“Yes,” she replied, though it wasn’t true. At the time, she’d meant to irritate him and, yes, even deflate his ego a bit, which had worked. Now, she realized it would give him something to aspire to. “It was a solid seven.”
He smirked. “Tonight, we’re not stopping until you scream ten,” he promised, and moved back just a few inches so he could unbutton his black shirt. “Is that understood?”
She shivered at the darker, more assertive tone of his voice. “Are you sure you’re up for that kind of challenge?”
“Abso-fucking-lutely,” he said on a low, fierce growl. “You up for more filthy, hot, rough sex?”
She bit her bottom lip as she watched the front of his shirt gradually open, revealing the broad expanse of his chest and the beginning of his ripped and toned abdomen. Oh, yes, filthy, hot, rough sex with him sounded so decadent. “Yes, please,” she said much too eagerly.
He chuckled as he shrugged out of his shirt and tossed it aside. “Then let the games, and the orgasms, begin.”
Framing her face in his hands, he tipped her head up to his and covered her mouth with his own. Her lips automatically parted beneath the pressure of his, and his tongue swept inside for a devouring kiss. She moaned as he licked at her mouth, as his teeth bit her bottom lip, then he came back for a hotter, deeper invasion. As if he couldn’t get enough of her. As if he’d die if he didn’t keep kissing her.
Needing to touch him, she placed her hands on his hard chest and dragged them downward, using her thumbs to trace the tight, corrugated muscles of his stomach until she reached his jeans. She followed the waistband around to his bare back and skimmed her flattened palms up his spine. She’d seen him with his shirt off plenty of times, but feeling his warm, smooth flesh beneath her hands was a luxury and a treat.
Groaning against her lips, he ground his hips against hers. The metal buckle of his leather belt dug into her belly, and his denim-clad cock nudged her mound. Her sex wept with need, and she had to resist the urge to climb him like a tree and wrap her legs around his waist so that heavy bulge in his pants could give her the relief her body was clamoring for.
Instead, she sank her fingers into the muscles along his shoulders, then raked her nails all the way down his back again. He shuddered and wrenched his mouth from hers, breathing hard.
“Fuck,” he rasped harshly, even as his lips curved with seductive amusement. “My Kitty-Kat has claws and isn’t afraid to use them.”
His hands still clasped her jaw, and he swiped one of his thumbs across her swollen and damp bottom lip, then pushed it past her teeth. Holding his gaze, she closed her mouth around his finger and swirled her tongue around the digit, knowing full well where his imagination would go.
His eyes darkened with lust. “God, your mouth . . . I want to feel it wrapped around my cock just like this, and watch as you swallow me deep.”
He slid his finger back out with a suctioning pop of sound, and because she wasn’t about to give it up so easily, she taunted him instead. “Make me.”
A hot, depraved look passed over his features, letting her know that he had absolutely no qualms about accepting her dare. He slid one of his hands through her hair, pulling it away from her face until he had a fistful gathered at the back of her head. He tightened his hold on the strands with a twist of his fingers, making her very aware of who was really in charge tonight. He was.
Her heart raced, and there was nothing she could do to stop the rush of moisture that dampened her panties.
“Get on your knees,” he ordered, and with the wall at her back and his hands gripping her hair and pulling her down, she had no choice but to obey.
She knelt in front of him and awaited his next command.
“Good girl,” he murmured, though his hold on her hair didn’t loosen at all. “Now open my jeans and take out my cock, but be very careful because there is nothing separating my dick from that zipper.”
So, he’d gone commando. Her breathing escalated in anticipation as she unbuckled his belt and unfastened the top button. Oh-so-cautiously, she dragged the zipper over the massive erection straining against the front of his pants and freed his shaft. Last night, she hadn’t had the pleasure of seeing him naked like this, had only felt the size of him inside her, and dear Lord, even his cock was gorgeous. Thick and smooth and perfectly shaped, and just as big as she’d imagined.
With his free hand, he fisted his fingers around his erection and pumped the length once, twice—slowly, expertly, until a bead of pre-cum seeped from the slit. Without thinking, she licked her lips. The erotic sight of him stroking his own shaft, and his proof of arousal, made Katrina’s thighs clench together in an attempt to ease the growing ache in between. It didn’t work. No, it only made her more desperate. Needier.
“Take me in your mouth, Kitty-Kat. All of me.” He pressed the hea
d against her bottom lip, and she licked away the drop of fluid on the tip, making him groan raggedly. “Fuck, I need to feel your soft tongue sliding all the way down my cock. Do it. Now.”
Placing her hands on his hard thighs, she opened wide as he pushed his way inside. She took him all the way to the back of her throat, then let him slide back out until she was just sucking on the crown. She did it again, slow and slick, and he cursed beneath his breath and braced a hand on the wall behind her for better leverage. With his other hand wrapped up in her hair, he guided her head, and she let him dictate the pace, the rhythm, giving him all the control, all the power.
With every deep stroke, his salty taste filled her mouth and his male scent filled her senses. She sucked him in, then back out, again and again, even as his thrusts grew harder, more frantic. She reached between his legs and palmed his balls, and when his groans increased in volume and he shouted out a series of “yes, fuck yes, fuck yes,” she continued to massage them until they tightened and his body began to shake and she knew she’d driven him to the edge. She relished the fact that she’d brought him to this delirious point, and realized that for the first time ever, she wasn’t going to pull away from the orgasm about to erupt.
No, she wanted all of Mason.
“Jesus . . .” he rasped. His legs started to tremble as she pulled him to the back of her throat once more and swallowed around him. “Need you so fucking bad . . . Your mouth is so hot, so greedy . . . I’m going to come so fucking hard . . .”
He drew quick, shallow breaths, and then his shaft pulsed against her tongue, his hips jerking erratically as he climaxed with a raw shout of pleasure that gave her an equal amount of satisfaction. When he was completely spent, he dropped his head against the wall and released her hair, allowing her to finally move.
She glanced up, her gaze taking in all those amazing muscles along his abdomen. Combined with those artistic sleeves of tattoos, his body was a work of art. Unable to resist, and since he was still in the process of recovering, she pressed an open-mouthed kiss right below his navel and smiled when he groaned.
Dirty Sexy Inked (Dirty Sexy #2) Page 8
