Dirty Sexy Inked (Dirty Sexy Series Book 2)
Dirty Sexy Inked: Chapter 10

Katrina walked into her apartment and set her purse and keys on the small table by the door, then headed into her bedroom to change out of the dress and boots she’d worn to work. It had been a long, busy day, and it hadn’t helped matters that every time she’d seen the vase of roses sitting on the front counter she’d thought about Blake’s job offer. No doubt, that had been his intent.

And then there was Mason and his strange behavior. He’d arrived at the shop in a good mood, with her favorite breakfast items in hand, and it had felt like a peace offering between them, which she’d welcomed. And even though he’d seen the flowers and asked very nicely about her date with Blake, she’d wished that he’d exhibited even a small amount of jealousy. Something, anything, to give her some kind of indication that he might have more than just best friend feelings for her.

“And if he did, then what?” she muttered to herself as she sat on the bed, unlaced her boots, and pulled them off. Mason didn’t know the meaning of monogamous, and she was a one-man kind of woman. End of story.

After slipping out of her dress and bra, she put on a soft, cotton camisole and a pair of comfortable sleep shorts, then padded into the kitchen to make something for dinner. She opened the refrigerator and perused the meager contents. Geez, she should have stopped at the grocery store on the way home. Or at least picked up some kind of takeout.

“Okay, scrambled eggs it is,” she said to herself since her choices were limited. Just as she started to reach into the fridge to grab the carton, the doorbell rang.

She headed back to the entryway and looked through the peephole and saw Mason standing on the other side—reminiscent of that last night in Vegas when he’d come to her room. The memory of what had happened once she’d let him inside made her traitorous heart flutter. She had no idea what he was doing there, or what he wanted, but she couldn’t ignore the fact that he was there. He had to have seen her car parked in her spot.

When she opened the door, she was greeted with the delicious aroma from the pizza box he was holding in one hand, which was from their favorite pizzeria. In his other hand, he was carrying a paper sack from the grocery store.

The savory scent of the pie made her stomach growl, and he grinned, even as he blatantly took in her camisole and shorts with a heated gaze that made her breasts tingle. “Sausage, mushroom, and olives,” he said, indicating he’d brought a pizza with her favorite toppings. “I hope you haven’t eaten dinner yet.”

This wasn’t the first time he’d showed up at her place unannounced and with food, and it just felt so . . . normal. Like old times, and she couldn’t resist—even as she wondered why he was there after a week and a half of tension between them.

Stepping back, she let him into her apartment, then led the way to the kitchen. “Actually, you saved me from a boring meal of scrambled eggs. That pizza smells amazing.”

He placed the cardboard box on the counter, along with the grocery bag, then began taking things out of the sack. “Here’s some root beer to wash it all down with, and some Ben and Jerry’s Salted Caramel Core ice cream to go with the movie I rented from Redbox for us to watch,” he said as he put the pint into the freezer.

She leaned back against the counter, suddenly feeling . . . overwhelmed. And so confused. This scenario was like a flashback to some of the best times she’d spent with Mason—eating pizza, then gorging on her favorite ice cream while watching a scary flick. Which had always included cuddling with him on the couch because she had a love/hate relationship with thrillers and inevitably clung to Mason during the gory parts, or buried her face against his neck.

But all that had been before, and now she didn’t know what to make of all this. And his changed behavior. Especially after how strained things had been between them for the past week and a half.

“Mason, what are you doing here?” she blurted out.

He set the plates that he’d just taken down from the cupboard on the counter, then walked toward her, the territorial gleam in his blue eyes making her pulse race. Everything seemed to change in that moment—his cheerful demeanor shifting to something far more arousing.

When he reached her, he braced his hands on either side of where she was standing and leaned in close enough for her breasts to brush across his chest—making her shiver and her nipples tighten almost painfully.

“I’m staking my claim, Kitty-Kat,” he said, his words as possessive as the rumbling sound of his voice. “That’s what I’m doing here.”

She opened her mouth, then shut it, stunned by his words. She’d been expecting him to say something along the lines of “I’m here to get our friendship back on track,” not that he planned to pursue her or stake his claim. While her body was willing to let him mark her however he pleased, her heart and mind were far more practical about his declaration.

“I don’t want to be your convenient fuck buddy,” she said, hating the hint of doubt that crept into her voice, but she couldn’t help how she felt. “Or be another notch on your belt.”

“That’s not what I want, either. I swear it. I want you. Only you,” he said as he placed his hands on her waist and pressed his hips to hers. He flashed her a charming grin that belied the sudden hint of nerves in his gaze. “And to prove it, I’m getting a brand new belt with your name on it, and while I definitely want to fuck you again, it won’t be as your buddy.”

She swallowed hard as she tried to digest everything, especially the fact that he was implying that he wanted them to be an exclusive couple, when Mason didn’t do relationships. Ever.

She shook her head in confusion. “I don’t understand . . . ”

“I’m having a hard time understanding all this, too,” he admitted honestly. “But there is one thing I know with absolute certainty, and that is that I can’t stand the thought of another man touching you. Not after everything that happened in Vegas. You went out with Blake last night, and I was so fucking miserable and jealous it nearly gave me an ulcer. And then those goddamn flowers that I had to look at all day today . . . ” His words trailed off and he clenched his jaw in irritation. “I assume Blake sent them?”

She nodded. “Yes.” But what Mason didn’t know was that the note Blake had attached hadn’t been romantic at all, but rather a nice message about how he hoped she’d become a part of the Cavanaugh and Zimmerman team.

Mason frowned at her, and his hands tightened on her waist. “If Blake had been around, I can guarantee that we would have come to blows over you, and I would have won.”

She looked at him in surprise. “I had no idea you were jealous.”

His expression turned adorably sheepish. “Because I was trying not to be an asshole about the situation, and it was damn hard.” He stared into her eyes, his gaze searching hers. “Just tell me one thing. Do I need to be worried or jealous about Blake?”

“No,” she said, automatically honest in return. Romantically speaking, there was no interest or attraction. But Katrina wasn’t ready to share her job offer with Mason, not until she made some kind of decision, one way or the other.

He exhaled a relieved breath. “Good.”

She bit her bottom lip, knowing that she had her own concerns to express, and she was still honest-to-God floored at the direction of their conversation. This was Mason. Mason, coming to her asking her for a chance. It was everything she’d ever hoped for or dreamed about except . . .

“Do I need to worry about . . . other women?” It was a fair question, considering his track record, and she needed that reassurance.

“No, you don’t have to worry about other women,” he replied, his voice sincere, then the corner of his mouth lifted in a wry grin. “I haven’t been with anyone but you since before Vegas. My dick doesn’t want anyone but you, Kitty-Kat.”

She laughed lightly, even as the cynical part of her brain whispered the question, for how long? “Umm, that’s so . . . romantic?”

“It’s the truth.” He lifted his hands and framed her face in his palms, the warmth and affection in his gaze unmistakable. “I want this to be so different with you, but this is unchartered territory for me. Can we just take it slow and easy and see where it goes?”

He wasn’t asking for forever, not that Katrina had expected him to considering this was all new to him. And because she was well aware that there were no guarantees in any of this, she also knew exactly what was at risk—her emotions, and the potential for heartbreak if Mason decided he wasn’t cut out for a committed relationship. Not to mention ruining their friendship, which she cherished and meant so much to her.

But she also knew if she didn’t take this chance with him, she’d always look back and regret it, as well as wonder what if. She’d loved this man for so many years, and for the first time in his life, he was trying to open himself up to a deeper, closer, more intimate relationship, which took time. Time he was willing to invest in a relationship with her. Something he’d never, ever done before for another woman, and she couldn’t deny that she was going into this cautious and guarded.

“You’re looking at me with those big, wide eyes, and I have no idea what you’re thinking,” he said as he stroked his thumbs along her cheek, making her realize how long she’d been silent—obviously long enough to make him worry. “But I need you to say yes, that you’ll give me a chance.”

This time, she didn’t hesitate. “Yes,” she said, and a rush of excitement zipped through her at the thought of being his.

A release of breath escaped him as he pulled her mouth up to his and kissed her, so slow and deep and sweet it made her ache. He slid one of his hands into her hair and pressed his lower body into hers while tracing her lips with his tongue before sweeping back inside. Beneath the zipper of his jeans, he was hard and thick, all for her.

The knowledge thrilled her, and she melted against him while pushing her palms beneath the hem of his T-shirt so she could touch the hard, muscular plane of his stomach. What she wanted even more was to lick her way down his chest and drag her tongue lower, until she was kneeling on the floor and had his shaft between her lips.

Excited by the thought, she tugged on the button securing his jeans, but he caught her wrists and stopped her before she could get inside. He ended the hot kiss and stared down at her while pressing her palm to the outline of his erection.

“Fuck,” he breathed as she squeezed him tightly through the denim. “That’s what you do to me, Kitty-Kat.”

She liked how that sounded. Loved that she had the ability to make him so hard and eager. “I can do a lot more,” she said, and licked her lips so there would be no mistaking what kind of pleasure she was referring to.

He laughed huskily and raised a brow. “Are you using me for sex?” he asked with feigned indignation.

She grinned up at him, feeling ridiculously happy. And hopeful. “Maybe.”

He groaned. “I can’t believe these words are leaving my mouth, but I didn’t come over here in hopes of getting a blow job. I was actually hoping that tonight could be our first official date.”

Another shock rippled through her, that he’d actually thought this evening through. “Our first date is pizza, ice cream, and a scary movie?”

The corner of his mouth quirked, and he rubbed a hand along the slight evening stubble on his jaw. “I’m not one to wine and dine. Hell, I don’t even like wine, but if that’s what you want, I’ll take you anywhere you want to go.”

Last night with Blake, Katrina had learned that she wasn’t a wine-and-dine kind of woman, either. “What you brought over is absolutely perfect.” And for them, it truly was.

“Then let’s eat the pizza while it’s still warm.”

While she poured the root beer over ice, Mason served up the pizza, and they took their meal to her small dining table and sat next to each other. They talked about work for a while, their exchange effortless, easy, and familiar. And for the first time in a long while, Katrina felt happy. She was so glad to have her best friend back, because she’d missed this kind of casual, comfortable conversation with him. But she couldn’t deny the zing of excitement inside her knowing he truly wanted something more.

He ate two pieces of pizza and went back for a third while she finished her second slice at a much slower pace. While she chewed a bite, Mason’s expression changed to something more serious, and his brow creased as he seemed to contemplate something that was in his head.

“Everything okay?” she asked, wondering where his mind had gone and what he was thinking.

He set his crumpled napkin on his plate, pushed it aside, and turned his head to look at her. “You know, there’s something I’ve been wanting to talk to you about since Vegas, but there really hasn’t been a good time.”

So much had happened during that weekend, and she had no idea where this chat was headed. “Okay.”

“That last night when we were together . . . I felt those scars on your hip,” he said, bringing up a topic she had no desire to discuss with him. Ever. “You didn’t want to talk about it then, which I respected.”

He stared at her gently but intently, and the pizza in her stomach suddenly felt as though it had turned to lead in the pit of her belly. A sense of dread welled up inside her, and she desperately tried not to let her panic show. He hadn’t asked her a question yet, and she wasn’t going to offer up details until she knew exactly what he wanted to know. Even then, she wasn’t sure she could bear to tell him the truth.

He reached over, took her hand in his, and smoothed his thumb across her knuckles. “I know all about the cuts on your arm and why they happened,” he said, reminding her of the day they’d met and how protective he’d been, even though he’d been a stranger at the time. “And I know you went to therapy after everything with your stepfather, to help you with controlling the urge to cut. You told me back then that it was over, that you wouldn’t do it again . . . . In fact, you promised.”

She swallowed the thick knot rising in her throat. She had made Mason that promise, and at the time, she’d meant her vow because she’d believed it. But then again, she’d never anticipated that a few years later, yet another set of devastating circumstances would send her spiraling back into such a dark, desolate place. She’d been so overcome with anger and emotional anguish that the only way to escape and cope with her humiliation and shame had been to turn all that mental suffering into the kind of physical pain that would guarantee to soothe and calm her bleak thoughts. If only for a little while.

He released a slow breath. “I need to know when those cuts happened,” he said, drawing her out of his troubling thoughts. “Was it recently?”

His gaze was unwavering, his tone so full of concern and caring that Katrina wanted to cry and confess the whole terrible, awful truth that she’d never shared with anyone. But she didn’t want him to look at her differently, to see her differently, so she settled for a vague, but truthful, response.

“No. It was back in high school.” Our senior year. Right before graduation.

His fingers continued to stroke along her wrist where the butterfly tattoos on her arm began. “What happened to make you cut again?”

Your best guy friend at the time raped me, she thought, but the horrible words stuck in her throat. “I had a relapse.” That much was honest.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked, the tenderness in his gaze nearly her undoing.

She glanced away from his too-intense stare, relieved he hadn’t pushed her on the reasons behind her actions. “Because I was . . . ashamed.”

His fingers touched her jaw until she looked at him again, and this time, he seemed troubled by her reply. “I’m your best friend, Katrina. You’re supposed to share everything with me, and I hate that you went through something so painful by yourself. Even if it was back in high school. And now that I’m your . . . boyfriend,” he said with a slight grin. “Okay, that was weird to say to a woman for the very first time in my life. But I don’t ever want you to feel that you can’t talk to me about anything. I’m always here for you. Always. Understood?”

She knew it wouldn’t do any good to bring up what had happened all those years ago, except to expose her own insecurities and humiliation. Connor Stevens had been out of their lives for eight years. After graduation, he’d gone into the military as a Marine, and as far as Katrina knew, Connor and Mason had lost touch, so there was no reason for her to rehash that part of her past. Cutting really and truly was behind her and had been for a long time.

“Promise me, Katrina,” Mason said, his tone firm.

She nodded and pushed out a smile. “Yes, I promise,” she said as she stood and started collecting their dirty dishes, desperate to move on from the conversation. “Now let’s go watch our scary movie.”

While she cleaned up the kitchen and put the leftover pizza in the refrigerator, Mason went into the living room and set up the movie. By the time she was done and joined him, the horror flick was ready to go. Her couch was wide with an ottoman they could push directly up against the sofa, which enabled them both to recline next to each other. She took the inside against the cushions, and after dimming the lights, Mason settled in beside her.

As the movie started, Katrina didn’t hesitate to nestle up to his side, but she couldn’t deny that this time felt different than the other friendlier times they’d cuddled together for a movie. He wrapped an arm around her so she could lay her head comfortably on his chest, and her legs were draped in between his. He played with her hair, running the strands through his fingers and occasionally skimming his thumb along the side of her neck, making her very aware of him and the slow, heated thrum of desire coursing through her.

She loved snuggling with him as a girlfriend so much more because now she had full permission to slide her hand beneath his T-shirt and run her fingers over his tight abs. While he seemed focused on the movie, she casually stroked her hand along his toned stomach and up to his chest, then turned her head and placed a warm, damp kiss against his throat as her fingers grazed over a taut nipple.

Lightning quick, he grabbed her hand and turned his body toward hers, pinning her against the soft cushions, his body half on top of hers. He feigned a fierce frown as he looked down at her. “Dammit, this is our first date and I’m trying to be good.”

She nipped at his jaw, and he groaned. “I like the bad Mason so much better.”

He released her wrist and settled his hand on the curve of her waist beneath her camisole. “You’re making it really hard to concentrate on the movie.”

“I know.” She laughed, happy to be back to their playful banter. “Wanna make out instead?”

His eyes dropped to her mouth, his gaze turning hungry. “Jesus, do you really think I’d say no to that?”

“I was hoping you wouldn’t,” she whispered as she tucked her fingers into the waistband of his jeans and pulled his hips to hers. The solid, tempting length of his erection nudged against her lower belly, and in response, her body softened even more. “And if you’re really lucky, I might even let you get to fourth base,” she teased.

The last thing she saw was his wicked grin before he dropped his mouth over hers and she was lost in a sizzling, panty-melting kiss that quickly had her moving and rubbing restlessly against him. Minute by minute, the kisses grew hotter. Deeper. More demanding. His mouth claimed, his lips consumed, and the slide and swirl of his sinful tongue drove her wild for more.

The movie completely forgotten, she moaned restlessly and tugged on the top button of his jeans, wanting to feel him pulsing in her hand as she stroked his length. It felt like it had been forever since she’d touched him, had his shaft moving deep inside of her, and she ached to have him back where he belonged.

A deep, guttural growl tore from his throat as he lifted his mouth from hers. He stared down at her with an undeniable carnal heat glittering in his eyes. “I take it we’re moving on to second base?”

She bit her swollen bottom lip, needing more than fondling through their clothes. She wanted them off so she could feel skin to skin. “I’d rather skip second base and get right to third,” she said as she anxiously pushed his shirt up to his chest.

Helping her, he lifted up so he could pull the shirt the rest of the way over his head and dropped it to the floor behind him. “Just to be clear, what is your version of third base?”

She lifted her gaze to his and gave him a sultry, seductive smile. “Your mouth on my bare breasts and your hand between my legs,” she said huskily. “I’m pretty sure orgasms are a requirement of making it past third base.”

He chuckled lightly. “Duly noted. Take off your shorts and panties so there’s nothing in my way of touching you.”

Anticipation swirled inside of her, and she shoved both garments down her legs and kicked them off the couch so that she was naked from the waist down. As he shifted and moved a jean-clad knee between her legs, she pressed her palm to his warm, naked flesh as her arousal climbed a few more notches. God, he had a gorgeous body. Tattooed arms. Chiseled chest and abs. And a cock made for her pleasure. Yeah, she couldn’t wait for that part.

Before she could slide her fingers back down to his waistband, Mason instead pushed her to her back and dragged the hem of her camisole up her torso. “Put your hands over your head so I can take this off,” he ordered softly.

As directed, she raised her arms high as he pulled the top up and over her head. But instead of removing it completely, he twisted the thin shoulder straps and the rest of the material tight around her wrists so that they were bound together. With one hand, he pinned them on the couch above her head so that she was completely bared to him.

She felt equal measures of vulnerability and excitement. He soothed the former and fanned the flames of the latter as he slowly, deliberately trailed his gaze from her face, all the way down to her thighs. When he finally made his way back up to her eyes again, his features were etched with adoration and lust.

He pressed his face against her neck, his breath hot and damp against her skin as he licked a sizzling path all the way up to her ear. “I’m going to make you feel so fucking good.”

She shivered, her breasts swelling as her breathing escalated. “I know. You always do,” she said, and expressed her own desire. “But I want to touch you, too.”

He shook his head, his dark, silky hair brushing against her bare shoulder as he bit her earlobe. “That’s why I restrained your hands. So I can take full advantage of this soft, sweet body. So I’m in complete control of your pleasure. All you have to do is close your eyes and feel.”

She already felt so much. Physically, yes, but emotionally, her heart was wide open and completely his. With one of the hands secured above her head, he entwined their fingers, the gesture so sensual and intimate it made her ache deep inside.

His free hand cupped her breast, his fingers squeezing and plucking at the stiff crest until her lips parted on a soft moan. His hot, wet mouth latched on to her other rock-hard nipple. His tongue swirled around the tip, his teeth adding a slight sting of pain as he lightly bit her flesh, making her whimper and her spine arch to push more of her breast between his lips. Seemingly knowing what she wanted, what she needed, he drew her deeper, the suctioning pull of his mouth so exquisite it made her wild.

And it made her beg. “Mason, please,” she rasped. “I need your fingers lower.”

He chuckled against her breast as his one hand skimmed down her quivering stomach. A single finger dipped inside of her navel, teasing and tormenting her. “Lower here?” he murmured, one hundred percent bad boy.

She opened her eyes and tried to glare at him, but the hot, dominant look on his face only made her realize that between her tied up hands and the knee wedged in between hers, she was completely at his mercy.

“Touch me . . . between my legs,” she said breathlessly.

His fingers caressed along the inside of her thigh, bypassing her aching sex. “Here?” he asked, oh-so-innocently.

She was dying, and with every stroke of his fingers on her body, no matter where, it only amplified the pulsing need he was blatantly avoiding. “Mason . . . ”

“Maybe you need to be more specific,” he suggested with a devilish grin as he flicked his tongue across her nipple again. “Come on, Kitty-Kat. Talk dirty to me. Tell me in filthy detail what you want so I can give it to you.”

Oh, God, oh, God, oh, God. The words were in her head, then in her mouth, and finally on the tip of her tongue. She spoke them before she lost the nerve. “Rub my clit with your fingers.”

He rewarded her with a satisfied smile. “See, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” he asked as he finally stroked his fingers over and around that hard, sensitive nub.

She gasped as the bundle of nerves came alive beneath his skillful touch, and she closed her eyes and let her head fall back as he worked his magic. Her hips started to grind against his hand, and she felt so empty deep inside. This time, her dirty request came without hesitation.

“Fuck me with your fingers,” she moaned shamelessly.

She gasped as he immediately filled her up with the thrust of two deft fingers, and her breath paused in her throat. He held them unmoving deep inside of her, along with the concentrated pressure of his thumb on her clit, leaving her suspended somewhere between frustration and sublime ecstasy.

His mouth came back to her ear, his voice dark and possessive. “You ready to come apart for me, baby?”

“Yes,” she pleaded.

He exhaled a harsh breath and pumped his fingers in and out of her, hard and deep, while his thumb worked her clit in fast, relentless circles. So many sensations rocketed through her, and she tightened her fingers around the ones he’d laced with hers above her head, needing an anchor as her body shook from the force of her climax.

When her limbs stopped quaking and she finally came down from her high, she opened her eyes and found Mason looking at her, watching as she recovered. He’d released the camisole from around her wrists, and she slowly drew her arms back down. The hand that had just given her so much pleasure was now splayed on her stomach, but there was no mistaking the hard ridge of his erection beneath the fly of his jeans that was digging into her hip, reminding her that she was one step ahead of him in this game of bases they’d decided to play.

Smiling drowsily and uncaring that the scary moving was still playing in the background, she turned slightly to rub her body up against his like a satisfied cat. “You ready to score with a home run?” she asked as she skimmed her palms down his stomach, more than ready to go a second round, but this time with him buried inside her.

He stopped the hands traveling south and brought them back up to his chest. “Not tonight, Kitty-Kat.”

She was stunned, shocked, and confused. “Why not?”

A chill passed over her bare skin, and when she shivered, he reached for the blanket she always left draped over the back of the couch and covered her with it, tucking her close to his side.

Then, he gently brushed a few strands of hair away from her cheek and tipped her face up to his so she was looking directly into his gorgeous blue eyes. “Don’t doubt for a second that I want you, but I don’t have a condom with me, and I won’t risk having sex without using one. But most importantly, I didn’t come over here for that tonight, though I can’t deny I loved giving you that orgasm. It was fucking hot watching you come like that.”

“Oh.” Her mind was reeling from everything he’d just revealed. It said a lot about his true intentions that he hadn’t come over prepared to have sex. And when she thought back, she’d been the one to initiate what had just happened.

His gaze turned serious. “I also want to tell you . . . despite my reputation, I’ve always gotten tested regularly, and the last time was right before Vegas. I’m clean.”

“Thank you for telling me,” she said, appreciating his honesty. It wasn’t an easy conversation to have, but it was an important one. “And just for the record, as of a year ago and after my last relationship, I’m clean, as well.”

He grinned playfully at her. “I’d say you were a bit of a dirty girl tonight, but in the best possible way,” he said, reminding her of those filthy words she’d spoken, and how much they’d turned her on. “And I liked it. A lot.”

“Me, too,” she admitted, returning his smile. With him, she felt free to be that woman who embraced her sensuality, who could enjoy darker, more forbidden depths of sex. Because she trusted him and knew that it came from a place of pleasure, not degradation.

Not wanting to think about those degrading memories when they were part of a past she no longer wanted to relive, she curled her body into Mason’s while he went back to watching the movie. She loved how safe and protected he made her feel, when no other man had ever come close to giving her that sense of security that she’d always craved.

And that was something she never wanted to lose.