Beautiful Crazy Part 19

She nodded, unable to verbally respond.

"Do you agree that we are in bed right now and you have in fact broken the rule?"

His long fingers gripped her hip and pulled her body closer to his. Her pendulum of need swung from warm and comfortable to scalding and needy.

When she didn't respond, he asked again. "Kevan, do you agree?"

She finally nodded and felt his smile against her forehead as his exhale rustled her hair. He lifted his hand from her hip and stroked her hair. Softly, at first, then adding more pressure, until his big hand tangled in her hair at the nape of her neck. He moved her face to look at him.

"Open your eyes, darlin'," he said, and she shook her head from side to side.

"I'm afraid." She swallowed the nervousness threatening to take over her brain, expecting him to placate her with words of comfort and soft, gentle caresses like he had before.

Instead, he whispered, "You should be, my beautiful girl. You should be." His chest rose with a long pull of breath before he continued. "I don't know what this is, this thing between us. I know I've never, and I mean never, felt this strong a pull to anyone. You confound me. You're beautiful and so insecure. You're creative and intelligent and so inexperienced. You're compa.s.sionate, and you're cruel. You're a s.e.x bomb, and you're a compliant, generous lover. You're all these maddening contradictions that don't make any sense, yet make perfect sense." He sighed again. "And I can't get enough of your special f.u.c.king brand of beautiful crazy."

He danced his fingers up and down her spine, sending quakes of l.u.s.t through her torso like jolts of electricity bringing her body to life. "So yeah, you should be afraid. I'm f.u.c.king terrified, and I'm never afraid of anything. The only thing that has ever scared the f.u.c.k out of me is the s.e.xy brunette lying in my arms and looking up at me with those stunning gray eyes."

"Mason?" She could hear the quiver in her voice.

"Yeah, darlin'."

She opened her eyes to gaze into his. "I agree."

His gorgeous mouth slowly curled upward, and his eyes took on a predatory gleam. Her rational mind knew she should fear his dangerous evil-s.e.xy smile. But instead, her nipples hardened under her soft nights.h.i.+rt, and her core tingled, flooding with arousal.

He raised one eyebrow. "To your punishment or to more?"

"Both."

The words were barely out before his mouth slammed down on hers and his hand moved from her back to her bottom. He pulled her body into his as he licked the seam of her lips. She opened for him eagerly as he explored her mouth and held her head angled in his other hand. It seemed as if she'd waited for this kiss for her entire life. He captured her moan with his mouth and tangled his fingers in her hair. Gripping the long strands in his fist, he angled her head into a position that gave him more control over the kiss. As suddenly as it had started, the kiss ended.

When he pulled his mouth away and tucked her into his side, dragging her leg over his thigh, Kevan expected him to grab her and get busy. "I don't think you have any idea the dirty things I want to do to your bombsh.e.l.l body."

His dark promise sent tremors to her c.l.i.t, making it throb. She squirmed with overwhelming need under his hands, but then his hands stopped moving, and he sighed deeply.

After several minutes, she asked, "Well?"

Mason chuckled but didn't move. "Well what?"

Was he really going to make her say it? "Where's my...my...you know."

"Punishment?"

"Yeah." Was he purposely being coy? What the h.e.l.l? She needed him to take her, brand her as his. And right now.

"Oh, you'll get it. Just not now. Not when you expect it."

"What the-"

He stopped her from finis.h.i.+ng by placing his fingers to her mouth. "We're both exhausted. I have your consent. That's enough for now. Fall asleep in my arms."

Kevan wanted to yell and slap at him. If he were any other man, she'd accuse him of being a player. But Mason didn't play games like that. Besides, he was right-d.a.m.n him. Sleep would be good. And she felt so safe, so comfortable in his bed. She turned her head and placed a kiss on his lightly hair-dusted chest. Her lips tingled from the brief contact, but she tamped down her fierce arousal. They'd said and done enough for one night.

"Good night, cowboy."

"Good night, Bettie."

Tomorrow was another day.

Chapter 20.

Bright light seeped in through a crack in the blackout shades, blinding Kevan with a searing laser beam directed into her left eye. They must not have made it from San Francisco to LA yet, because the RV still rocked gently. She stretched and lifted a hand to her face, turning to peer at the sleeping giant with his arms around her. It was a rare moment when she was able to observe Mason without his intense focus on her.

Kevan traced her finger from the crown of his head, across his cheek, and down his long neck, enjoying the contrast of her pale skin against his golden, rougher skin.

Yes, he was pretty, but his body was a man's body, one mapped with the various evidence of an active life. It bore his history as explicitly as any book described a person's story. She traced the tiny visible scars and marks dotting his broad shoulders, arms, and legs. He s.h.i.+fted suddenly and grabbed her fingers as they outlined the thin, jagged scars sprinkled across his forearms and hands. He pulled her in for a sweet kiss, gently caressing her lips with his.

"Where did you get these?" she asked, feathering her index finger along his wrist and arm, enjoying the feel of his coa.r.s.e hair under her softer skin. He smiled, his eyes filled with sleep and his hair mussed from her fingers. "I was ten. I wanted a new skateboard. You know, a cool one, not a little kid's plastic toy. But my parents didn't think it was practical or educational, so I had to buy it myself."

He pulled her body against his, the smell of his naturally woodsy scent sent signals of l.u.s.t and contentment to her brain.

"I did everything I could to get that stupid board, including mowing lawns and returning bottles. So one day I was riding my c.r.a.ppy toy skateboard, the one I wanted to replace, to the store with a box full of gla.s.s soda bottles on the front. I hit a b.u.mp and followed the shattered bottles hands first."

She gasped, cringing at the image of a young kamikaze Mason flying through the air seconds after a dozen gla.s.s bottles shattered on the hot summer sidewalk. Choosing to ignore the poor battered and b.l.o.o.d.y ten-year-old, she focused on the idea of Mason as a child, bringing a smile to her lips. He must have been such an intense, stunning child.

What will his children look like?

Better not go there.

"Did you get the skateboard?"

He shook his head. "Not until high school."

Kevan kissed each little mark on his arms and then continued down his hands.

She pulled the tangled sheet off Mason's waist and pushed it down his legs. d.a.m.n, he was fine. And, looky there, he's happy to see me. When she looked into his face, the expression in his eyes had turned serious. She smiled and pushed his shoulder back against the bed, eliciting a protesting grunt from him. She caressed the light smattering of hair on his chest and continued her exploration down to his hard abs and hips. Her hand wrapped firmly around his manhood, and his warmth infused her fingers. Slowly, she began to stroke up and down. She scooted down and licked the shaft with the flat of her tongue up to the notched head. Hard, but with a velvety texture.

She circled the head and licked the tip, and the small prec.u.m pooled there. Kevan loved the tangy saltiness of Mason. She'd never taken much pleasure in giving a man head. Always felt it was a means to an end, or an exchange for what she really wanted. But with him, she thoroughly relished the pleasure she knew she gave him. She craved the power that came with understanding that this successful, gorgeous man was in her mouth, chose to be with her, and she was the one making him growl and cry out her name when he came.

When he moaned again, more loudly, she glanced up to his face before she took him entirely into her mouth and hollowed her cheeks. His eyes were firmly locked on her. He brought his hand to rest on the back of her head as he arched into her and his c.o.c.k hit the back of her throat. Wanting to please him, she dragged her tongue against his erection.

His hand tangled in her hair as she moved her warm mouth up and down on him. Her nipples tightened with his firm grasp, sending moisture to her p.u.s.s.y. She wanted him to direct her. She wanted him to take his pleasure and show her how to please him.

"Kevan, if you keep going, I don't think I'll be able to stop," he growled, his voice low and dark.

He was close to the edge of losing his tightly held control. She craved that moment. The exact second when they fell perfectly into their roles as if by instinct. She granted him the gift of her power, and he accepted and cherished it. Never had she tasted the perfect balance of s.e.xual submission and control as she did with this man.

She popped the swollen purple head out of her mouth. "Take what you need. I want to feel you unravel."

The words were enough. He wrapped both hands around her head as she pulled him back into her wetness, and he began to f.u.c.k her mouth, slow and deep. His hands tensed, and he picked up the pace. Her body felt light, almost meditative as he came in hot spurts into her mouth and down her throat. She swallowed, savoring his salty, all Mason, musky taste.

He pulled her up and stared into her eyes as he held her tightly.

"G.o.d, you're f.u.c.king incredible." His chest still rose and fell while his legs trembled from the powerful o.r.g.a.s.m.

Mason rolled, pus.h.i.+ng Kevan onto her back so he could hover above her. He kissed behind her ear and slowly, painfully slow, began kissing and sucking his way down to her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, nipping lightly and then sucking harder on each nipple. Nibbling one and kneading the other, over and over, back and forth, until Kevan thought she might explode just from his stimulation of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. He looked up at her with a wolfish grin.

He apparently was aware of the delicious agony he was creating. He bit down on one nipple as he plunged a finger, and then two, into her ridiculously wet slit. She cried out when he began to alternately bite her nipples as he rubbed her hardened c.l.i.t.

"Come for me, darlin'. Scream my name."

She did. And it was awesome.

After Mason's magic fingers gave Kevan an explosive, mind-altering o.r.g.a.s.m, they showered and ate, then spent the day working until they arrived in Hollywood. She hurried through her usual routine and was dressed to go in an hour. Mason paced back and forth past the kitchenette table. By now, she was used to his bursts of restless energy. It was similar to the vibe, the surge of energy, she thrived on at live shows. She liked the charge that bounced off him when he was in his hyper state.

She admired him from down the hall. Effortless and handsome with his worn jeans, a pair of black Docs, and a vintage Misfits henley s.h.i.+rt. He looked up and caught her spying on him.

"Okay?" he asked, not really looking for her approval. He knew what she thought of his looks.

Nodding, she tilted her head to the side and pointed to that spot on her neck. "You know you're hot, cowboy. C'mere and tell me if you like this new perfume."

In two long strides, he was holding her by the shoulder and pus.h.i.+ng her up against the wall. His tucked his face in behind her ear. "G.o.d, you smell so good."

Mason drew in a long breath and rubbed his nose down the side of Kevan's throat to where her neckline turned into her shoulder. That spot he'd discovered and placed his flag in. Property of Mason. Bite here.

He pushed the edge of her dress to the side. "I love this place right here." He bit her gently and smiled against her skin when she gasped.

"What the f.u.c.k?" He whirled her around quickly. "Holy s.h.i.+t, woman. You can't go out there like that."

She tried to hid her smile. "You can't tell me how to dress, Mason."

"No, I mean, where the f.u.c.k is the back of your dress? I can see your whole tattoo and almost your a.s.s crack. No, go change." He pressed his lush mouth in a tight line and pointed to the closet in his bedroom. Their bedroom. She laughed, wondering if he was serious.

"No, Mr. Bossy Pants." Crossing her arms, she stuck her b.r.e.a.s.t.s out for effect.

"How the f.u.c.k am I supposed to get any business done tonight if I'm distracted by that tattoo and the hot body it's drawn on?" Mason growled. The familiar low vibration instantly made her wet and wanting.

"That's your problem, not mine." She ducked under his arm and grabbed her small clutch off the table. "Let's get this show on the road, cowboy."

Kevan sashayed her hips for his benefit. She couldn't help but laugh at the frustrated groan behind her.

Stepping off the bus, she didn't hide her excitement at being back in Southern California. While San Francisco, with its eclectic music scene, welcomed anyone and everyone with any talent, Hollywood was Mecca to the hard rock, heavy metal world. If you played Hollywood, you'd made it. h.e.l.l, bands like Megadeth and Guns N' Roses had started here. She couldn't even list all the groups that had risen to superstardom by playing the rattraps and back-alley dives that lined Hollywood and Vine. Tonight, that group was Manix Curse.

The other three bands playing with Manix Curse were local, bringing their own fans to pack the house. The show had sold out in a day. People lined the sidewalks, and those without a ticket were turned away.

Tonight was all about networking for Kevan. While the opening bands worked the audience into a fever, she had appointments with reps from each band to discuss potential marketing and promotional agreements. All three groups were heavy metal and were perfect for her agency. One was more progressive and built the tension slowly, exploding into layers of music rolling through the room and encompa.s.sing everyone there. The second and third bands were more thrash and built on the already enthusiastic crowd.

By the time Manix Curse hit the stage, the crowd was primed for their unique blend of thrash and progressive metal. Watching them play tonight was like watching perfection squared.

The momentum created by the opening bands created a velocity that pushed Manix into the most precise and flawless show they'd ever performed. Basically, they killed it. The crowd loved them. Wors.h.i.+pped them. Add in the easy dynamic between the band members and the intimacy they created with the audience, and the experience was unique and awe inspiring. She loved watching the alchemy-the magic of music. The pulse of the crowd. The sound so loud and all encompa.s.sing it obliterated all other thoughts.

Somewhere in the loud and boisterous club, there was a big, bad, handsome man with eyes only for her. All the swaying of scantily clad women, and none of them had the attention of the most gorgeous man in the room. Only she had Mason's full focus. Her nipples hardened and her core dampened as she remembered their morning and afternoon together. The man had supernatural hands. No doubt about it.

Noticing the manager for one of the opening bands, Aortic Pulse, Kevan made her way across the room. He raised his eyebrows in curiosity when she held her hand out.

As he grasped it, he asked, "And who are you, pretty thing?"

She smiled. "Hi, Robert. I'm Kevan Landry with Jolt Marketing. We spoke on the phone."

When recognition flooded his face, he shook her hand vigorously. "Right. Hey, it's really great to meet you. I looked over your brochure, and the band is really interested in talking to you about representation."

Kevan felt the muscles in her shoulders loosen as her chest filled with air, feeling lighter than it had in weeks. "Great. Shall we schedule a meeting or conference call for sometime later this week?"

"I'll call you on Friday, if that works for you. Can I buy you a drink?"

"No, but thank you." Kevan's eyes surveyed the crowd, taking in the clientele, the target market for future clients. But really, she was looking for Mason.

"This your band?" Robert flicked his glance to the stage, where Manix Curse was tearing it up.

"Not yet, but I'm working on it." She winked, shook his hand again, and sauntered to the back of the room, headbanging to the song as it pulsed through the crowd. Narrowly avoiding cras.h.i.+ng bodies on the dance floor, she ducked off to the side. Where was he? Usually she could spot him quickly. Or she felt his eyes on her.

Kevan spotted Mason's tall figure in a dark corner, towering over the crowd. He was gesturing toward the shorter man she'd seen him arguing with in Oregon. Mason's face was flushed, and his mouth moved as if he was yelling. The man seemed to be shouting back, but with a smug smile, almost a sneer, that never left his mouth. Whatever the two were discussing, and discussing was putting it lightly, it was not going in the direction Mason wanted. When she got a little closer, she noticed the veins standing out on his neck. He looked angrier than she'd ever seen him.

Who is that man? And why does he have Mason so worked up?

Kevan squeezed through the crowd. Her fast pace was abruptly halted when a strong hand wrapped around her elbow.

"I don't think you want to go there, sweetheart," Joe yelled over the music, close to her ear.

"Why?" she yelled back.

He said something, but it was lost in the wailing guitar riffs. She shrugged her shoulders. Joe pointed to the back hall and led her to the office. Kevan stood with her back to the door, her hands on her hips, eyebrows raised.

"Well?"

"Don't go over there," Joe repeated. "Let Mason work it out."

"Who is Mason yelling at, Joe?"