Dirty Sexy Inked

by Carly Phillips

  With her tongue, she licked her way upward, leisurely following the pathway of all those delicious ridges and grooves along his stomach. When she scraped her teeth across a nipple, he hissed out a startled breath and cupped a hand around the back of her neck to haul her all the way up so she was standing in front of him again.

  Without hesitating, he kissed her again, thoroughly, deeply. When he had his fill, he pulled back and touched his forehead to hers. “That mouth of yours is fucking lethal.”

  Her body buzzed from his compliment, and she grinned. “And I think your average just got elevated to an eight.”

  He lifted his head and stared into her eyes, an arrogant smile curving his lips. “Then it’s a good thing I’m not done with you yet, so there’s still room for improvement.”

  She laughed. “You can certainly try.”

  “Oh, I intend to.” He zipped up his jeans but left the belt hanging open, then moved out of her way. “Go sit on the couch and we’ll get started.”

  Her anticipation was off the charts, and her legs shook as she followed his order and sat down on the nearby couch, still fully clothed. She watched him approach, her excitement increasing with every step he took toward her. When he was finally in front of her, he went down on his knees, reached up to untie the drawstring of her pajama shorts, then dragged them and her panties down her legs and off at the same time.

  Her breath hitched in her lungs, and she kept her knees pressed together as she started to remove her tank top, too.

  He quickly stopped her. “Leave it on. I want to savor one thing at a time,” he said huskily, but didn’t touch her like she wanted him to. “And right now, it’s all about getting my fill of that sweet spot between your thighs. Spread your legs nice and wide for me, Kitty-Kat, so I can make you purr.”

  Realizing just how exposed she’d be, that she’d never been so brazen with another man before, she hesitated.

  “Come on, sweetheart,” he cajoled softly, as if sensing her sudden bout of nerves. “Show me that gorgeous pussy. I promise I’ll make it worth your while.”

  He wasn’t demanding, but she couldn’t deny the need she heard in his low, mesmerizing voice. She parted her legs about a foot, not nearly enough for him to appreciate the view he wanted—and maybe this time she was deliberately teasing him, just to see how far she could push Mason before he reverted to that hot alpha male who took control.

  It didn’t take long.

  “More, Katrina.” This time, he sounded impatient and much more assertive, and she gasped as he placed his palms on her knees and forced them as wide as they would go, shredding every last one of her inhibitions.

  Her fingers sank into the couch cushions as he stared at the swollen folds that had parted like a flower for him, pouty lips that glistened with so much dewy moisture. She watched as his big hands slowly slid up the insides of her thighs, and she made a soft, mewling sound in the back of her throat when he reached her sex and brushed the pads of his thumbs along the outer crease, making her desperate to feel his caresses on all that sensitive, throbbing flesh.

  “Mason,” she begged frantically. “Please touch me. I need to come so badly.”

  Satisfaction gleamed in his blue eyes. “How do you want my mouth and tongue on this pussy, baby?” he asked as he placed a hot, wet kiss on the inside of her thigh and slowly licked his way up to the apex, stopping just short of her core. “Soft and slow, or hard and fast?”

  “Both,” she said, unable to choose when her mind was already starting to short-circuit. “I want both.”

  “Greedy girl,” he murmured, his breath scalding her seconds before he buried his mouth between her legs and completely obliterated her senses.

  He started soft and slow, his tongue lapping the entire length of her sex and curling around her clit with teasing swirls, causing her entire body to arch toward that wicked mouth in a silent plea for harder, deeper friction—even though there was nothing she could do to force him to rush.

  With every deliberate lick, every persistent stroke, every dip of his tongue pushing inside of her, he gave her no choice but to take the pleasure he inflicted, at his own sweet pace. It was maddening, breathtaking, and when he slid two fingers deep and rubbed along her inner walls, the overload of sensation had her delirious for release.

  Whimpering with need, she shoved her fingers through his hair, shamelessly pulling him closer, and he finally obliged, latching on to that sensitive bundle of nerves and using his teeth and tongue to propel her toward an unbelievable peak. Her entire body jolted with the force of the orgasm surging through her. Her head fell back against the couch and she closed her eyes, crying out his name as a tidal wave of ecstasy crashed over her, leaving her wrecked and overwhelmed from so much sensation.

  She felt him move away, and she didn’t know how much time had passed before she was able to lift her head and open her eyes again. He was sitting, completely naked, in the single armchair across from where she was sprawled on the sofa. He’d obviously had enough time to take off all his clothes, and he was clearly way more comfortable in his nudity than she was in hers as he reclined casually, his long, solid legs slightly spread.

  He was so gorgeous and hot and magnificently male. His shaft was thick and hard again, curving up against his lower abdomen, and she was shocked to feel a renewed thrum of desire pulse through her at the realization that he wasn’t done with her just yet. At least she hoped he wasn’t.

  He tipped his head to the side and gave her a smug smile. “Well?”

  She knew what he was waiting for, but she wasn’t about to feed his ego too quickly. “Nine,” she said, and watched as he arched a dark brow at her. “That was definitely a nine.”

  He lifted the belt she just realized he’d been holding in his hand and snapped the leather strap, causing her heart to double its beat and a secret thrill to zing through her—proof of just how much she did trust him, especially since she had no idea what he intended to do with that belt. Whatever it was, she knew it would lead to pleasure, not the kind of pain that left scars on her soul or even her body, and that knowledge soothed any unease she might have had.

  “A nine,” he drawled, his voice infused with sarcasm. “All right then, let me try harder this time. Get on your hands and knees and crawl over here to me, like the obedient Kitty-Kat I know you can be,” he dared her.

  Going down on all fours, she did as he ordered and moved toward him slowly, seductively, her hands and knees moving in sync. She put an extra sway into her hips, and reveled in her own bit of satisfaction when her sensual ploy didn’t go unnoticed by him. By the time she reached Mason and knelt in front of his chair, the heat and hunger burning in his gaze were hot enough to sear her.

  “Come up here and straddle my thighs,” he said, his voice sandpaper rough.

  She moved up onto the chair, spreading her knees wide apart on either side of his thighs so she was sitting astride his lap. A very small bit of space separated her aching sex from his engorged shaft, but knowing it was oh-so-close made her all the more anxious to feel his cock deep inside her again. He didn’t touch her, and it was pure agony waiting for that initial contact, and where it would be.

  “Now you can take off your top so I can see your pretty breasts,” he said as a slow, wicked grin claimed his lips. “And if you’re good, I might even touch them and suck them.”

  Oh, yes, please. Without hesitation, she pulled her tank top over her head and dropped it on the floor beside the chair. Completely naked now, she felt her heart beat wildly in her chest. His gaze took in her breasts almost reverently, and beneath his avid stare, her nipples puckered into tight, hard points, begging for his warm, wet mouth. She was already so aroused she had to swallow back a needy moan.

  He lifted the belt and slid the leather across his palm, reminding her of its existence. “Put your hands together behind your back.”

  And now she knew what he had in mind. Realizing just how vulnerable and defenseless that would make her, she had a
moment of uncertainty as her thoughts tumbled back to the past and that awful night when she’d been so powerless against another man’s calculating intentions.

  She must have hesitated too long, because a small, concerned frown marred Mason’s brow. “Do you trust me to make you feel good, Kitty-Kat?” he asked softly.

  She swallowed hard. Mason was nothing like Connor and would never manipulate or hurt her—and she hated that another man had instilled that deep-seated fear inside her. She also knew Mason would respect her decision if she didn’t give in to his request, but she wanted so badly to overcome that unpleasant memory, and what better way to do that than to replace it with the kind of pleasure she knew Mason could give her?

  She exhaled a deep breath and, along with it, her uncertainties. “Yes, I trust you,” she said, and put her hands together at the base of her spine as proof.

  He searched her expression, and she loved that he cared enough to be concerned about her physical and emotional well-being. He must have seen the assurance he was looking for, because he finally reached behind her with the belt. As he held her gaze, he looped the leather strap around her wrists and through the buckle, securing it tight enough to restrain her but loose enough that it wasn’t uncomfortable.

  The position pulled her shoulders back, which in turn thrust her breasts out like an offering. He took them in his hands, squeezing her flesh and rolling her nipples between his skillful fingers until that tugging and pinching became almost too much to bear. She moaned, her sex clenching as he rubbed his thumbs in slow, torturous circles around her areolas.

  “Jesus, you are so goddamn beautiful and perfect,” he said, his tone shockingly possessive as his gaze followed his hands as they skimmed along her waist, then disappeared around to her backside. “Every single fucking inch of you.”

  She treasured those sweet uncensored words, because it wasn’t often that she thought of herself that way when she was so emotionally and physically flawed. But right now, with Mason, she felt imperfectly perfect, and yes, beautiful, too.

  His hands splayed over her bottom, gripping her ass as he hauled her forward, until the lips of her sex were pressed against the length of his shaft in a hot, wet, intimate kiss. “Feel that, baby?” he asked as he rolled his hips, grinding his cock against her drenched folds and coating himself with all the slick moisture from the last orgasm he’d given her. “I already came once in your mouth, and I’m already so fucking hard for you again.”

  She bit her bottom lip as he continued to rock against her core, the pressure and friction making her body come alive all over again. With each intentional stroke, the ache between her thighs became an unrelenting throb, and she gyrated her hips against his erection, giving him a dirty, filthy lap dance that had him clenching his jaw and his chest rising and falling with harsh breaths.

  A dark, dominating growl rumbled in his chest, and his fingers dug harder, deeper, into the soft flesh of her ass. “That’s it, Kitty-Kat. Rub your soaked pussy all over my dick. Make yourself come on my cock.”

  His wicked words and the command in his voice were like a direct link to her clit, making those sensitive nerve endings scream with need. She wanted to grab ahold of his shoulders so she’d have some kind of anchor when she flew apart, but since that wasn’t possible, she dug her nails into her palms as she continued to rub herself all over him. The lust swirling inside of her magnified, and when she met Mason’s glittering blue eyes as he watched her with such heat and desire, there was no holding back the orgasm that crashed over and through her, or the shuddering moans that escaped her lips.

  Before she had a chance to fully recover, he’d rolled on a condom, and then his hands were gripping her waist and lifting her up on her knees so that he could position the head of his cock at her opening. Then he pulled her down on his shaft, plunging so hard and deep she cried out at the initial shock of it.

  She was impaled to the hilt, and he didn’t move. When she opened her eyes and looked into his, she realized he was giving her a moment to adjust before he let loose, and there was no doubt in her mind that she was in for a rough ride. She could feel the tension in his body from holding back and the pulse of his cock inside her, could see the muscle in his cheek tick as he slowly slid his hands down to her hips.

  Unexpectedly, his expression changed to confusion, and he frowned as his fingers feathered back and forth over her left hip. It took her a moment to realize what he’d discovered, that he could feel the multitude of thick, ugly, jagged scars that were embedded there. She’d kept them hidden from him for so many years, along with the painful and humiliating secret that had come with those permanent marks on her skin.

  He only knew about the scars on her arm that were now covered with the butterfly tattoos, and believed she’d never cut again after she’d gotten that initial help after her stepfather’s abuse. She saw the questions in his gaze, and she tried not to panic.

  “Katrina?” His voice was so gentle compared to the physical war she knew he had to be battling with his very aroused body.

  She shook her head frantically. “Not tonight, Mase,” she said, making it clear that particular topic was off-limits. “I just need you to fuck me and make me feel good, and give me that ten you promised.”

  That prompted a smile out of him, which she’d been hoping for, and he nodded in understanding. “That I can do. But this conversation isn’t finished,” he said.

  She had no doubt he wouldn’t let the subject go. But for now, she wanted to forget, so she rocked her body into him, redirecting his thoughts back to the pleasure they both craved.

  * * *

  Mason lay next to Katrina in the king-sized bed in her suite, her soft, warm body tucked in front of his, and his arm around her waist as she slept. Having been best friends for twelve years, it wasn’t the first time they’d cuddled, but it was certainly the first time they’d done so completely naked.

  That made him grin. It was after two in the morning, and he knew he needed to go, but he couldn’t bring himself to separate from Katrina just yet, because once he walked out that hotel door, this would be over. He’d never experienced closeness on this level before. This connection to a woman that was more than just a physical high and release needing to be satisfied. More than an addiction and adrenaline rush he’d spent so many years chasing in order to keep painful memories of the past at bay.

  For all his random sexual encounters, Mason had never, ever felt so sated, and knew it had nothing to do with the half-dozen different ways he’d fucked Katrina. This feeling was . . . different. He felt calm inside, content in a way that was foreign to him. They’d thrown some very hot sex into the mix of their friendship, and if he were a better man instead of a selfish asshole, he never would have allowed them to cross that line. But they had, and right now, in this quiet moment when Katrina was all his, he had absolutely no regrets. . . and hoped she didn’t, either.

  But that didn’t change the fact that they both had agreed to leave this fling behind in Vegas, which he knew was for the best. Phenomenal, mind-blowing sex was one thing. Giving Katrina what she needed emotionally was something he just wasn’t equipped for. He didn’t do relationships for a reason. Hell, he was damn lucky that they’d remained friends for the past twelve years, that she’d put up with his shit for that long, and he’d be a fool to screw that up for the sake of being fuck buddies. There was no way they could continue to have sex and at some point not have it interfere with or complicate their friendship, not to mention conflict with her working for him at Inked. It wasn’t a risk he was willing to take.

  Bottom line, Katrina was too important to him, and the thought of her not being a part of his life on a regular basis made his stomach twist with dread. She was his person, the one who kept him centered and accepted him, despite all his stupidity, his less-than-stellar choices, and all his emotional hang-ups, and he’d be lost without her in his life.

  But he had to admit, the fact that she insisted on limiting what happened between t
hem to Vegas bothered him. Usually it was he who made those kinds of demands. And despite the fact that he needed the same rules, that their friendship could only survive if they didn’t have a repeat performance, a part of him wanted her to want more.

  He tightened his arm around her waist and moved closer to the heat of her body, taking what he could before it had to end. She sighed softly in her sleep, obviously dead tired after all the orgasms he’d wrung out of her. Burying his face against her neck, he inhaled the light perfume of cloves and spice mixed with the headier fragrance of sex—with him. His scent was all over her, and he couldn’t deny that he liked it. More than was wise.

  Tamping down the arousal stirring through him, he absently stroked a hand over her hip and frowned when his palm encountered those scars he’d felt earlier. They weren’t fresh wounds, and he had no idea how long she’d had them, but the disturbing fact that she’d hidden the cut marks—or more importantly, that she’d starting cutting again after her stepfather had no longer been a part of her life—concerned him. What had caused her to fall back on that emotional crutch that was so self-destructive, and why hadn’t she confided in him?

  As best friends, he thought they’d shared everything. She knew all about his shitty past, even the deepest, darkest parts that had too much impact on the man he’d become. And once he’d learned about Katrina’s stepfather’s abuse, he’d made it his mission to protect the vulnerable girl she’d been. To make sure that no one ever hurt her again. And he’d honestly thought that he’d succeeded in keeping her safe and protected.

  These scars, and her reaction tonight when he’d discovered them, indicated otherwise. And while he respected her choice not to talk about them, he hated that something had triggered that past behavior, and for some reason, she hadn’t been able to confide in him. He’d been okay dropping the subject tonight, but at some time in the future, he needed to know what had happened and why. Had he failed her? That thought worried and scared him the most.