As Hot As It Gets (5 page)

He rose from the bar stool and wove his way through the crowd to her. Without saying a word, he pulled her to him and kissed her, long, deep and hot. He put all of himself into that kiss, made it an irresistible promise of pleasures to come.

She felt so right in his arms, it was hard to imagine they'd been ready to strangle each other such a short time ago. And then she grabbed his hand, led him through the crowd onto the dance floor, and started gyrating against him.

Driving him out of his mind.

He had no choice but to dance.

The pulsing beat pounded his head, and Claire's body against him was a stronger force than any intoxicant. The crowd of dancers around them seemed to pulse with the music, their bodies becoming one living mass, and soon Mason didn't notice people bumping against him. He felt only Claire's heat, only her hands grasping his hips, only her gaze pinned on him.

It was too loud to talk, too crowded to escape. They could only dance, and he grew hard against her abdomen. If she'd invited him to make love to her right there on the dance floor, he wasn't sure he'd turn her down.

The music changed from an up-tempo dance number to something distinctly tribal, with a heavy drum beat that seemed to call to his most primal in
stincts. And the lights in the club changed. They dimmed and then went black, with flashes of light that made visibility possible for brief moments at a time.

Black, white, black, white, black, white… It quickly became clear that trying to focus on seeing was pointless. He simply had to forget everything else and dance. But he got brief glimpses of other dancers, and it seemed that people were becoming more uninhibited the harder it became to see. The longer they danced, the hotter it got on the dance floor, and it seemed as though people were removing items of clothing. He saw flashes of breasts, naked torsos, bodies intertwined in intimate dance moves….

He realized with a start that the couple next to them wasn't just dancing. Flashes of bare hips moving together, pounding against each other, naked body parts exposed, mouths kissing breasts…

They were having sex on the dance floor.

Mason should have told them to get a room. As the owner of the resort, he should have been alerting security or something. But knowing what was going on, having Claire pressed against him, her hands grasping his ass now, her hips moving in time with his, her body a blatant invitation to do exactly what he was aching to do—it was all an incredible turn-on.

And then she did the one thing he was pretty sure would lead to his ruin.

She unzipped his pants and slid her hand inside, grasping his erection. He couldn't wait any longer.

What better way to have sex with Claire than in an environment where they couldn't talk, couldn't be mistaken that this was anything more than a one-night fling?

They were close to the wall, and with a little elbowing, he was able to guide them over against it in the darkness. In the flashes of silvery light, he caught images of Claire, her eyes glazed with arousal, her skin covered in a sheen of sweat, her body moving to the tribal beat.

He lifted her against the wall and she wrapped her legs around him. He pushed aside her panties, slid his fingers inside her, found her even hotter on the inside than she was on the outside.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw another couple getting it on, the woman bent over the dance floor railing and the man thrusting into her from behind, and he felt electrified. It was a bizarre sensation to realize people around him were having sex, an unexpected and powerful turn-on.

But now that he had Claire against the wall, he realized he needed a condom. He managed to remove his wallet from his pants and find one inside.

“Would you?” he asked Claire, without being sure she could hear him over the music.

She understood. Ripping open the package with her teeth, she made quick work of the task, her gaze
riveted on Mason the entire time, as if daring him to really go through with what they were about to do.

He didn't need a dare. He was too far gone to care about anything but easing the ache inside him, driving his cock into Claire until he could regain some sense of control.

She squirmed her hips against him, and then he did it.

He thrust inside her tight opening, all the way inside until their bodies crashed together like ocean and shore.

Any minute now, he'd be okay again. Just a little bit longer, and he'd have his fill of Claire.

But those sensible thoughts were obliterated by the incredible feel of her body, by the sweet tightness that encased him, by the glazed arousal he could see in her eyes, by the intoxicating music, by the tangled bodies he'd seen in the flashes of light.

He thrust into her hard and fast, again and again, unable to slow down. She felt like no woman he'd ever had before, and in the back of his mind, he knew he might be in trouble. Her body felt like the temple where he'd been born to worship, and he imagined that if he could only drive himself deeper inside her, he might find all the answers to all his questions.

Claire pushed down her dress and bared her breasts to him, and he tasted each one, sucking them as if they might quench his suddenly unquenchable thirst.

His hands gripping her ass, holding her tight, as he pumped into her, they moved toward climax faster than he'd expected, both overcome by the sexual turn the night had taken. And then he felt her muscles contracting around his cock, saw in a flash of light her eyes closed and her face transformed with pleasure, and he let himself go, too.

With one last thrust, he came long and hard, spilling into her in wave after wave of pure, white-hot pleasure, an orgasm so intense he nearly collapsed on the dance floor. His body shook as he held her against the wall, aftershocks overtaking him.

Claire's orgasm passed, and she placed a long, deep kiss on his mouth, her tongue eager and inviting.

His heart pounded in his ears, or maybe it was just the music. His body was drenched in sweat, and he was all too aware now that he was in the midst of an orgy, his body still locked together with Claire's.

This was not exactly what he'd planned.

Nor had it been dull or anything near an encounter that would rid him of his desire for Claire. Instead, he wanted to drag her back to his room and spend the rest of the night making up for lost time.

And then he felt a hand on his ass, though Claire's were on his shoulders. A woman wearing only a lace bra and panties danced next to them, her gaze an open invitation.

“Can I join you?” she asked, reaching out and stroking Claire's bare arm.

“No thanks,” Mason said.

Claire seemed unfazed by the offer, as far as he could tell, but since most women were either very enthusiastic or very offended by the idea of a ménage à trois, he decided then that they had to get out of the nightclub before all hell broke loose. He might have had his share of multiple-women fantasies, but he knew they were just that—fantasies that had no business being acted out in real life.

He withdrew himself and eased Claire to the ground, then spotted a garbage can at the edge of the dance floor, where he disposed of the condom and arranged himself back in his pants. When he turned back to Claire, intent on leading her out of the club, he wasn't exactly prepared for the sight of her dancing with the woman in the bra and panties.

In the flashes of light, he could see that Claire's dress was back in place, and her arms were raised over her head as she moved to the beat of the music. Claire kept her gaze locked on Mason as the women's bodies pulsed together, performing a dance so erotic his erection came back instantly.

This woman, the hot, infuriating, sexy-as-hell woman…

She crooked a finger at him, inviting him to join the dance. For a moment, he was tempted. Two beautiful women, one hot night…

The woman had her hands on Claire's hips now,
their bodies moving together, their mouths inches apart. She was toying with him, playing some kind of game he hadn't quite guessed yet. Mason's pulse quickened until he felt as if he'd just run a race.

He grabbed Claire's arm and offered the other woman a conciliatory smile, then pulled Claire away before she could protest. Holding on tight to her, his mind racing, his body aching, his every male fiber protesting that he'd just passed up the opportunity for a threesome, he weaved them through the crowd of dancers as fast as he could.

A few minutes later, he'd navigated her out of the nightclub and into the windy, rainy night. A foot-lit path led from the nightclub out in several directions, and Mason chose the most direct route toward his suite. But Claire pulled back, stopping them at a bench among the rustling palm trees.

He turned and looked at her as fat raindrops from the palm fronds pelted them at odd intervals. The wind caused her dress to mold to her body, and her skin was damp with perspiration and rain. Damp tendrils of her wavy hair clung to her face. She looked like the embodiment of sex.

“What the hell was that?” he demanded.

She shrugged, her mouth curving in a coy smile. “Just a little fun. Why'd you drag me out of there so fast?”

“Why were you dancing with that woman?”

“Weren't you tempted?”

“What guy wouldn't be?”

“But you weren't tempted enough to join us.” She tugged her hand away from his and crossed her arms over her chest.

“I've got other plans in mind,” he said, deliberately letting his gaze drop to peruse her body.

“Oh.” Her voice had dropped several octaves. “You're right—once isn't enough.”

“No.”

“We may need the whole night for my plan to really work.”

“You didn't answer my question—why did you start dancing with that woman?”

Claire sighed a put-upon sigh. “Honestly, I've never had sex on a dance floor before, and I've never made out with a girl, either. Guess I thought I'd try to make this a night of firsts.”

“Were you trying to get rid of me?” he asked.

“By inviting you to have a ménage à trois? I thought all guys loved them.”

Something about her tone was tense and false, and Mason began to get the true picture.

“It would have made it a hell of a lot easier for us to part ways,” he said. A pretty sneaky way for her to get rid of him.

She shrugged. “Maybe I was giving you an easy out.”

A question formed in his head—was it even possible to have an easy out after what had just happened?

Something so intense, so out of control, so incredible…

“I like my sex one-on-one,” he said, wiping rainwater from his brow.

A mischievous look crossed her face. “I do, too.”

“Come back to my suite for the night.”

Overhead, thunder rumbled and the sound of rain pelting leaves increased. A gust of wind assaulted them, and in a matter of seconds the rain turned into a torrential downpour.

In the half darkness, through the assault of rain, he saw unmistakable arousal darken her gaze.

“We still have more work to do—” She said, raising her voice over the din of the storm.

“Lots and lots of work.”

“Right.”

Mason took her hand and led her running through the downpour back to his suite, and mercifully, Claire didn't fight, didn't resist, didn't complain.

She was his for the taking.

T
HEY WERE SOAKING WET
.

For the first time since she'd arrived on the sultry island, Claire actually felt cold. She was soaked from head to toe, and it had become so difficult walking in her strappy heels that she'd been forced to stop and take them off, going barefoot most of the way to Mason's suite.

Where his hand grasped hers was the only place she felt warm—no, make that hot. His touch nearly seared her, as did the memory of their encounter on the dance floor. Having sex with Mason had been the most intense, uninhibited sex she'd ever had.

She'd been to her share of nightclubs, but she'd never seen an orgy break out, and realizing what was happening had been an incredible turn-on, more so than she ever would have guessed.

And Mason…

Yow.

It had to have been the setting, the wild goings-on, because having sex with Mason on the dance
floor had been the most exciting experience of her life—and she'd had some pretty exciting experiences.

But nothing compared to what had just happened.

She'd been so thrown off balance by the encounter, it had only seemed natural to accept the woman in black lace's invitation to dance.

Yes, she'd done it mostly because she'd thought if things went very far and Mason joined in, seeing him making out with another woman would be enough to kill her desire for him. She was having a hard time feeling regretful that her little ploy hadn't worked.

They just needed the rest of the night. Outside of the wild, uninhibited nightclub setting, surely their lovemaking couldn't be as exciting. They could burn off their steam, and with any luck Mason would prove himself to be a bore in bed as she'd always suspected.

The question that kept popping up in her head though was, but what if he wasn't? What if their every encounter was just as hot as the first? What if it was even hotter when they were alone to explore, take their time and find each other's rhythm in bed?

What if having sex with Mason was as hot as it gets, and all her out-of-control fantasies came true?

Mason closed the door of his suite, then turned on a lamp, and Claire forced the nagging questions out of her mind. They were alone, and she ached for him more now than she had before they'd had sex.

They were dripping all over his floor, but he didn't seem to notice.

His gaze was riveted on her as he began removing his wet shirt, then his shoes, socks and pants. Even his boxers were soaked, she noticed, as he peeled them off.

Snapping out of her daze, she tossed her shoes aside and stripped off her dress and panties, their soaked state reminding her of the first time she'd met Mason at the Fantasy Ranch. She'd just won a wet lingerie contest where the audience bid on the winner for charity, and Mason had won an evening with her.

Now he stood before her naked, his erection straining upward—an impressive length longer than the nubbin she'd hoped he would have. His body glistened with rain droplets in the lamplight, looking like some drenched Greek god.

He was just as glorious with his clothes off as he was with them on. And he hadn't even left his socks on.

Damn it.

Claire studied him closer, hoping to see some physical flaw like a third nipple or maybe some fur on his shoulders, but there was nothing out of place. Just a specimen of male physical perfection standing before her.

Mason took one step forward and erased the distance between them. “You're cold,” he said, as he slid his hands around her hips. “Maybe we should take a hot shower and get this rainwater off.”

“Maybe,” she said, too mesmerized by the feel of
him against her to think straight. His erection pressed into her belly, reminding her of how exquisite he'd felt inside her a short time ago.

But she wanted him now. No time for showers, no time for washing and fumbling with awkward shower wall positions—though Mason had proven himself quite adept at doing it up against the wall.

He dipped his head and covered his mouth with hers, explored her with his tongue, slid his hands down to cup her ass, letting his fingertips explore until he'd coaxed the ache inside her into a throbbing need so consuming she could think of nothing else.

“Or maybe later…” she whispered as she pulled him to the floor. Wrapping her legs around his hips, she shifted her own until he was straining at her opening, and nothing stood between her and sweet satisfaction.

“We need protection,” he said.

“Oh, right.”

“I'll be right back.”

Claire lay on the floor, her every nerve ending alive with anticipation, as he disappeared into his bedroom, but it was far too passive a position for her. She believed in going after what she wanted, so she got up and followed him into the darkened room, recalling his note in the nightclub.

If they could just keep their mouths shut, they'd both get what they wanted and she could be gone tomorrow.

Now the air-conditioning inside the suite was
making her damp skin turn to gooseflesh, and she craved Mason's heat more than ever. Her hair was dripping onto her shoulders, sending droplets down her torso, over her breasts and back.

She approached him from behind as he was removing a box of condoms from his nightstand and slipped her hands around his waist. When she took his erection in her hand and began massaging him, his breath caught in his throat.

She trailed her tongue along the planes of his back, slid her other hand up his belly to his chest and marveled at how amazing he felt.

If it all hadn't been so damn pleasurable, she might have been able to muster some renewed annoyance that he still wasn't proving to be the cold fish she'd hoped he would be.

He turned to face her. “A little impatient?”

“You were taking too long,” she said.

“I wasn't gone for ten seconds.”

“I don't believe in sitting around waiting for things to happen.” She pushed him backward with the weight of her body, urging him to the bed only a foot away.

“You love to be in control,” he said, standing his ground and grasping her wrists, pinning them at her sides.

“So do you.” She tossed him a look that was pure challenge.

Not only did she love to be in control, she loved a good fight.

“Therein lies our problem,” he whispered, then dipped his head to kiss her.

His kiss was part invitation and part challenge, both coaxing and forceful. Claire let him kiss her for a few moments, then she nipped at his lip with her teeth and pulled away.

“Let go of my wrists,” she said, and he did.

She gave him a good shove, and he fell backward onto the bed. Claire climbed on top of him and pinned his arms at his sides.

Mason laughed. “If you think you can hold me like this, you're deluded.”

“I think you want me badly enough to put up with whatever I do to you.”

“Don't be so sure of yourself—I could say the same about you,” he said, grinding his erection against her, nearly driving her insane.

“Let's get this over with,” she said, sounding a little more breathless than she would have liked.

He broke free of her hold and toppled her on the bed, pinning her with the weight of his body, holding her wrists the way she'd just been holding his. “Don't talk about having sex with me like it's some kind of chore.”

She smirked. “Oh, does that bother you? I'm so sorry.”

“
You
bother me.”

“I wasn't bothering you on the dance floor, it seems.”

“Oh hell yes, you were.”

She strained against his hold, but to no avail. And truthfully, it made her even hotter to realize she had no physical control. The only control she might exert was on his mind, and even that would be a challenge given her state of arousal.

“Let go,” she halfheartedly demanded. “I thought your note said no more talking.”

“I'll shut up when you admit that I gave you the best sex you've ever had,” he said with a toying smile she'd never seen him wear before.

“Don't flatter yourself. You were okay,” she lied. “You're enjoying this, aren't you?”

“I like a good argument.”

“I like less talk and more action,” she said.

His hot, hard erection, against her thigh, between her legs, so close to easing her crazy ache, was driving her insane.

He let go of her wrists long enough to put on a condom, then pinned her on the bed again and forced his cock inside her in one delicious thrust.

Claire couldn't help it—she cried out at the relief of having her most urgent desire satisfied.

Mason gave her a hungry kiss, then asked, “Are you going to be good now?”

She strained against his grip, to no avail, and felt herself grow even more aroused by the loss of control. “Hell no.”

Claire shot him a look of challenge, arching her back and straining against his weight.

His hips, moving between her legs, stilled. “You want me to stop?” he asked, his voice husky.

“Only when you've finished what you started.”

“Then we need to set some ground rules. If I let go of your hands, you can't assault me. No hitting, no scratching, no biting.”

His body, enveloped by hers, was doing little now to bring her the release she wanted more than breath. She tightened her muscles around him, hoping he'd get the message, and he closed his eyes and moaned.

“I can't make any guarantees I'll play fair,” she said.

“Then neither can I,” he nearly growled, and began thrusting into her again.

The friction and force of his cock was exactly what she needed, and she simply let go of everything else, savored each forceful, merciless thrust.

They made love like wild animals, angry and passionate, hungry and frantic. Claire realized this was the first time in her life a man had ever truly dared to dominate her.

And she loved it.

At some point, Mason must have let go of her hands, because now she realized she was clinging to him for dear life as he pushed her closer and closer to climax. She moaned into his mouth as he kissed her, helpless to do anything but lie there and accept him into her, accept his invasion because there was nothing else she wanted more in the world.

And then with all the tension that had built up between them, her release came stronger and harder than she would have imagined possible. She cried out like a wounded animal, though her body felt anything but injured.

Pleasure coursed through her, leaving her weak and limp as Mason found his own release. He moaned into her mouth as he kissed her, embraced her tighter as he spilled into her, possessed her so completely she wasn't sure where she ended and he began.

Finally, she opened her eyes to see him gasping, his gaze pinned on her as he caught his breath.

Then he placed gentle kisses on her nose and cheeks as he relaxed between her legs. His kisses were so tender, so different from their intense encounter, they caused Claire's throat to tighten.

She'd never gotten choked up about sex before, and she didn't intend to let it happen now. She just needed to focus on the facts. This was Mason Walker, a man she could barely stand to be in the same room with when he had his clothes on.

She was
not
supposed to be emotionally moved by him or the sex they had.

But she couldn't conjure up any outrage. The feel of Mason's heat, the weight of his body, obliterated all coherent thought.

He propped his head on one hand and smiled a slow, sexy smile. “Are you cured of me yet?”

Claire couldn't help but smile back. “I'm not sure…. This may take all night.”

And that, she feared, was a very conservative estimate.

 

M
ORNING LIGHT FLOODED
the bedroom. Mason yawned and stretched, his body aching from a night that had tested his physical limits.

He'd always considered himself an enthusiastic lover, but hell—with Claire, enthusiasm seemed too tame a word. He had the sore muscles to prove it. Even with his strenuous daily regimen at the gym, he'd still managed to give himself a hard workout last night. At some point during the night they'd ordered room service and eaten a late dinner in bed, but even still, he'd worked up enough of an appetite with her that he was ravenous now.

He sat up in bed and watched Claire as she slept, her red hair spilling over the pillow and her breasts barely concealed by the white sheet that rose and fell with her chest as she breathed. With her eyes closed and her face tranquil in sleep, she looked like a different woman.

Awake, Claire was all fire and sex appeal. Her eyes, her expressions, her body language, all pointed to the hellion she was.

Asleep, she possessed a peaceful quality that she could never exude while awake. She looked vulnerable even—a quality Mason never would have attributed to Claire.

As if she could feel him watching her, her eyes opened. “Morning,” she said, her voice soft.

It was awkward having her here now. He didn't know what to do with Claire if they weren't arguing or having sex.

“I'm a little surprised you didn't sneak out in the middle of the night.”

Claire rubbed her eyes and smiled a half smile. “Too tired. You wore me out.”

“I think it was the other way around.” And even after all they'd done, the sight of her body outlined under the sheet was enough to make him hard again. He adjusted the sheet on his lap to conceal his body betraying him.

“Don't feel obligated to engage in any nicey-nice morning chitchat with me. I think we both know the deal.”

Now that was the Claire he knew. And if she wanted to cut to the chase…

“I believe you owe me something now,” Mason said.

Claire rolled over to face him, and a lazy smile spread across her lips. “What could I possibly owe you now?”

“The complete story?”

Her smile disappeared. “What complete story?”

“The rest of the information about the dominatrix-for-hire service.”