[Dirty Sexy 02.0] Dirty Sexy Inked Read online

  He gritted his teeth. Christ, he literally had his hand down her pants.

  Asshole that he was, he wanted to push his fingers a little lower, wanted to slide them between her thighs and discover how hot and wet and aroused she was. And deeper, how tight and slick her pussy would feel around his cock as he buried himself to the hilt.

  He swore beneath his breath and shook his head, hard, doing his best to dislodge the indecent images in his mind, because this was not the time or place. Ignoring the erection thickening against the front of his jeans took equal effort, and he forced his mind back to the issue at hand.

  “We’re not done with this conversation,” he said as he started toward his room while pulling her behind him by the waistband of her pants, being just aggressive enough that she couldn’t stop him and was forced to follow. “You’ve had a bug up your butt the past few months, and you’re not leaving my room until you tell me what the fuck is going on and why you’re acting so irrationally, and why lately you always seem to be pissed off or annoyed with me.”

  Reaching his room, he pulled his key card out of his pocket with his free hand and swiped the magnetic strip. The lock disengaged, and he opened the door and hauled her inside the suite. As soon as they cleared the entry area and were in the small living room, he finally released her.

  She quickly put distance between them, then whirled around to face him. There was one lamp turned on next to the couch, and the drapes had been pulled open across the floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the glittering lights of Vegas at night. The room was slightly shadowed, and while he would have preferred more light, it wasn’t a priority at the moment. She was, and he refused to be the first one to look away from their current stare-off and give her any kind of advantage.

  Her chin lifted a fraction, her expression fierce and angry all over again. With her leather pants, purple-tipped hair, and sleeve of tattoos, she looked like the tough chick she liked the outside world to believe she was. But despite her being a spitfire right now, he reminded himself that beneath that stubborn, defiant exterior, she was the sweetest, most vulnerable girl he knew. She’d survived a hellish childhood, had endured the kind of pain that went soul-deep and would leave most people as twisted and fucked up as he was.

  But not his Kitty-Kat. She’d always been his anchor, the one person who kept him balanced and grounded when his life felt as though it was spinning out of control. She’d saved his ass more times than he could count. Maybe it was his turn to return the favor, to try and be patient and understanding—two things that he admitted had never come easily for him.

  Except judging by the tight pursing of Katrina’s lips and the irritation and restless energy nearly vibrating off of her, she didn’t seem to want his empathy. No, she looked like she was ready for an uncivilized altercation with him.

  If that’s how she wanted to play this out, he’d give her the verbal brawl she was anticipating. He knew how to poke and prod and push her buttons. She wasn’t leaving this room until that fucking chip was off her shoulder and they cleared the air between them.

  Since she didn’t seemed inclined to speak first, he did. “What did you mean when you called me a hypocrite?” he asked, wanting to know what he’d done to deserve that less-than-complimentary label.

  “A fucking hypocrite,” she corrected him. “Because that’s what you are. You’re so concerned about me leaving with a random stranger—”

  “Because you’d been drinking,” he cut her off, though he knew that excuse was only the partial truth. Watching her dance up on the bar, so lithe and hot and sexy—something she’d never done before—while other men lusted after her, had been the other very strong motivating factor for his rash actions.

  “For the record, I am not drunk. Not even close,” she said as she folded her arms over her chest—tempting his gaze to stray once again to those plump breasts straining against the front of her corset top.

  Damn, he wanted to pluck that tie and set those gorgeous tits free so he could mold them in his hands and take them in his mouth.

  “I had two shots over the course of two hours,” she went on, oblivious to his wandering thoughts and gaze. “So if I decide to get up on top of a bar and dance and shake my ass, that’s my choice, not yours. And if I decide to leave with some hot random guy I want to fuck my brains out—which I was considering since I had so many eager males to choose from,” she said in a tone designed to provoke him, “again, I’m a grown woman and that’s my decision to make.”

  Oh, yeah, she was all fired up, and he was still trying to get past the disconcerting image of her leaving with a guy she wanted to fuck her brains out.

  His gut churned with something very green, like envy, and he didn’t like it. Not one bit. “I just don’t want you to do something you’ll regret later.” Jesus, when had he become such a goddamn liar? And when had her sex life, and who she chose to sleep with, become his concern?

  “Oh, my God,” she said incredulously. “Aren’t you the one who told me on the plane ride here that I’m too uptight and I don’t know how to have a good time? And didn’t you bring up the fact that it’s been a long while since I’ve been laid and I ought to take advantage of Sin City and find myself a one-night stand and fuck him through the Kama Sutra?” she exaggerated.

  He bristled in frustration and irritation, because somehow she’d turned all this around and was now intentionally pushing his buttons. “I never said that,” he replied heatedly as he moved toward her.

  “Whatever. Close enough,” she said, waving a careless hand in the air. “And I don’t know why you’re so worried about who I might or might not screw when you were well on your way to hooking up with the first woman you came across in Coyote Ugly!”

  As he neared, he saw two distinct emotions pass over her features—hurt, which was quickly followed by . . . jealousy? How could that be possible?

  Certain he’d misread her fleeting expression, he pinned her with an unyielding look and got a few things off his chest, as well. “I don’t know why you’ve been so irritable lately, or what your problem is, but I’m getting damn tired of trying to figure out your mood swings.”

  She sucked in an indignant breath. “Want to know what my problem is?” she said on a sudden eruption of outrage. “You’re my problem, Mason.”

  She turned to leave, but he was faster. He grabbed her arm, and before she could shake him off this time, he pushed her up against the nearby wall. He flattened his hands on either side of her shoulders to cage her in, and pressed his hips hard against hers to keep her in place until he decided they were done talking.

  “You don’t get to say something like that and just leave without an explanation,” he said in a low, harsh voice.

  Her glittering green eyes flashed with a quiet but meaningful message for him to go to hell. Lips pressed tight together, she gave him the silent treatment—something she knew he hated.

  He was prepared to wait her out as long as it took. “I have all goddamn night, Katrina.”

  Seconds ticked into minutes, her willful and obstinate attitude never wavering, nor did her heated gaze. After a while, she tried to move to the side to escape him, but that maneuver only caused their lower bodies to rub together—the soft mound of her sex against the fly of his jeans.

  He got hard—so fucking huge there was no way to hide his response to her and the position of their bodies. There was no way she could miss his massive erection, and still, he didn’t move, determined to wait her out for the answer she owed him. Except he hadn’t anticipated that the awareness and sexual tension between them would grow so increasingly thick he could barely remember why he’d trapped her there in the first place. To make some kind of point, yes, but all his aggravation gradually dissolved as male instinct and an undeniable bolt of sexual hunger coursed through him.

  Forbidden desire and dark lust swirled through his veins like smoke, testing his control and weakening his will to resist this woman and all the dirty, filthy things he’d
fantasized about for too long. Everything below his waistband tightened and pulsed as he stared into her eyes and saw her own carnal cravings reflecting back at him. Flecks of gold glittered in her green eyes, and her full, tempting lips softened and parted, as if inviting him to find out just how sweet she was inside.

  He licked his own lips, so starved for the taste of her he felt as though he’d fucking die if he didn’t get the chance to experience her flavor. Kissing women, anywhere, wasn’t something he indulged in often, and he honestly couldn’t remember the last time he’d wanted to put his mouth on a woman for the sheer pleasure of it.

  Sex for him was always quick and uncomplicated, focusing more on his body’s needs and chasing that intoxicating high that rushed through him at the peak of orgasm. That physical release allowed him to forget the pain and torment that was always lurking just below the surface, just waiting for a moment of weakness to consume and ravage him.

  As a result, his sexual urges were dark and dominant and aggressive. He liked control, and he’d only hooked up with women who wanted the same thing and gave it up willingly, without any expectations. Easy women who made it simple to fuck them and walk away without any emotional involvement.

  He’d long ago recognized that out of narcotics, sex, and alcohol, fucking was his self-medicating drug of choice, and his way of coping with the self-destructive urges that threatened to drag him into the depths of a worse kind of hell. But like with any high, the relief was only temporary, and too many times, the aftermath of his actions were rife with regrets and self-loathing. It was a vicious cycle he couldn’t seem to escape.

  But right now, in this moment with Katrina, he wasn’t looking to forget or escape anything. No, he wanted to document every single trembling breath she took, wanted to memorize the flush on her face and the way her pupils dilated with lust the longer they stood in this position, with his cock aching to be inside her. He wanted to remember how small and perfect her soft curves felt pressed against his straining dick, how her increasingly erratic breathing caused her breasts to lift and quiver as the undeniable anticipation between them escalated, second by second. He wanted to bury his face against her neck, inhale her heady female scent, and lose himself in her sweet, luscious body.

  Except there would be nothing sweet about the way he took her. He didn’t know how to do slow or gentle or romantic. When he fucked, he was rough and hard and demanding. Katrina was the one good thing in his life, and he never wanted to taint her with his perverse need to use sex, to use her, to ease all those underlying raging emotions from the past that he struggled to keep buried so he didn’t hurt anyone or anything.

  Especially Katrina.

  But as their battle of wills continued, despite the gradual softening changes in her body language, a part of him couldn’t deny how much he needed this woman, how badly he ached to be a part of her, in a dozen different ways that were so goddamn wrong he was a prick for even contemplating corrupting her.

  But then she made a soft, aroused sound of need in the back of her throat, and his control wavered as an answering fever thrummed through his veins and the beat of his heart echoed louder and louder in his ears. The intensity between them became a tangible thing, until she turned her head away, finally breaking eye contact with him.

  And he hated it. Hated that she was trying to shut him out and ignore this fire smoldering between them. He moved one of his hands, his fingers touching the side of her face while his thumb skimmed along her lush, damp bottom lip.

  “Look at me, Katrina,” he demanded softly. This was no longer about their argument or extracting an explanation. No, this was something altogether different, and he was fucking helpless to resist the temptation beckoning to him.

  Much to his surprise, she exhaled a shuddering breath that made her breasts tremble and obeyed his command. When her soft green gaze met his once again, he knew he was done for. Gone. Lost. Those beautiful eyes, they saw into the deepest, darkest part of his soul. They always had, and in this moment, he felt so open, exposed, and vulnerable.

  She swallowed hard, the hands at her sides coming up to his chest, where she lightly gripped his T-shirt in her fists. Conflicting emotions flashed in her eyes, and he knew she was struggling to deny what they both clearly wanted. What they both needed.

  “Mason . . .” Her voice sounded strangled and uncertain.

  He didn’t want to hear any excuses. Didn’t want to give either of them a chance to stop what was about to happen. Without thinking of consequences, he pushed her chin up with his thumb and lowered his mouth to hers, finally taking what he’d wanted for the past twelve years.

  Chapter Four

  The moment their lips touched, a jolt of blistering heat shot straight to Mason’s dick and the word friends no longer applied. Because a friend wouldn’t take possession of this woman’s hot, sweet mouth and kiss her hard enough to bruise. A friend wouldn’t wrap those long, blonde strands of hair around his hand so he controlled the slant of her mouth beneath his and the depth of the kiss. And Jesus Christ, a friend definitely wouldn’t slide a hand down his rigid stomach, curl her fingers around his stiff cock, and squeeze him tight.

  Right then, Mason decided that if he was going to hell for touching Katrina, for defiling her, then he was going to take the memory of this one scorching-hot encounter with him, to fantasize about again and again.

  Their tongues tangled, deep and wild, and with a low, primitive growl in the back of his throat, he ground his iron-hard dick against Katrina’s palm, dying for the feel of her fingers gripping his bare flesh, stroking him until he came in her hand.

  As his appetite for her grew, seducing her mouth wasn’t enough. He wanted more. With one last slow, thorough lick inside her mouth and a sexy, seductive bite on her lower lip that made her gasp and writhe against him, he finally ended the kiss and buried his face in the warm curve of her neck.

  She smelled like Katrina always did, a light fragrance of cloves and spice that matched her gutsy personality and made him think of sex with her every time he inhaled the arousing scent. He nuzzled her skin and dragged his teeth along her throat, and with a sensual moan, she tipped her head back to give him all the access he wanted.

  Bastard that he was, he took advantage of her invitation. He tugged on the ties that held the front of her corset together, pulling on them until they unraveled, loosening her top. With his hands gripping each side, he roughly yanked the bodice down, and since she wasn’t wearing a bra, her firm, full breasts were immediately exposed to his avid gaze.

  He filled his palms with her plump flesh, kneading her breasts and lightly pinching her tight nipples until she started to pant and squirm restlessly. So damn hot and responsive. He devoured her with his eyes, and his mouth watered for a taste. The devil sitting on his shoulder whispered in his ear to do it.

  He’d already come this far, and while he knew he ought to stop this madness, the moment that Katrina sank her hands into his hair and guided his mouth to her gorgeous tits, there was no way he could refuse. He bent his head and flicked his tongue across her rigid nipple. She jerked shamelessly against him again, the shift of their bodies causing one of his legs to push between her thighs. He nipped at her breast, then sucked her deep into his mouth. Clutching more of his hair until his scalp burned, she brazenly arched her back and rode the thigh wedged up against her sex in an attempt to chase her own orgasm.

  Fuck, if she didn’t stop her grinding, he was going to come in his goddamn jeans—and that hadn’t happened since high school. The friction against his aching cock was so overwhelming, so good, it made him desperate to get inside her. So deep she’d never forget that he’d been there, that he’d owned her, if only for those few brief minutes.

  He was selfish enough that he’d take whatever he could get.

  He released her nipple, and ignoring the sound of protest she made, he removed her fingers from his hair and turned her around so she was facing the wall. He placed her hands flat on the surface and pushed he
r upper body forward, until her bared breasts were pressed against the cool wall. The position arched her back and made her delectable ass jut out like an offering.

  He caressed his palm down her spine and over the soft, supple leather covering her perfect ass, and considered giving in to the urge to release a bit of his sexual aggression the way he liked best. And if he was honest with himself, he was curious to know what kind of reaction he’d get when he spanked her bottom for the sheer pleasure of it, rather than as a reprimand like earlier.

  Before he could change his mind, he brought his palm down and smacked a cheek, firm enough to make his hand smart. She sucked in a gasp and moaned, long and low, the soft sound filled with an unmistakable thrill.

  “Mason,” she whispered, his name a seductive plea on her lips.

  A grin tugged at the corners of his mouth. Her response delighted him and made him hotter than fuck. “Ahh, looks like my sweet Kitty-Kat is a dirty girl who likes to be bad.”

  She shivered and groaned, and shocked the hell out of him when she admitted in a quiet, submissive whisper, “Yes.”

  He heard the vulnerable honesty in her voice, and for a moment, he felt as though all the air had left his lungs. It was as though she’d just shared an intimate secret with him, something no other man knew about her, and why did that make him feel so damn possessive? He didn’t want to think too hard on that answer, but he did channel that emotion into what he planned to do to her next.

  Stepping up behind her, close enough so that his hard-as-steel cock was pressed against her upturned ass, he settled his hands on her hips. “Spread your legs wider,” he ordered, and satisfaction pumped him up when she immediately did as he asked.

  He slid his fingers along the waistband of her pants, all the way around to the front, where he unfastened the top button, then slowly lowered the zipper. He tucked the very tips of his fingers into the lace band of her panties, just enough to tease, as well as give her the opportunity to stop what was about to happen.