Dance With Me - By Hayden Braeburn Page 0,15

to the clapping in the room.

God, she was sexy. Unable to stand the other men watching her, clapping for her, he strode across the room and swept her into his arms. She was his, and no one and nothing would keep her from him. He cupped her chin and brought his mouth down on hers fiercely.

She lost herself in his kiss, in the feel of his tongue against hers. Before she registered what was happening, she found herself backed into Mason's office.

She tore her mouth from his to ask, “Why are we here?”

“The door locks,” he answered before kissing her stupid again. No further explanation was necessary.

~*~

He devoured her, one hand in her hair, the other on her hip. Miraculously, they made it to the desk without injury, focused as they were on each other. He wanted to give her pretty words of love and encouragement, and he promised himself he would. Later.

Kat had no intention of making Mason jealous when she'd come downstairs to dance. Every day she danced in front of an audience, and he had never reacted like this. Oh, she knew she should be outraged at his obvious show of jealousy and possession, but it was just the opposite. She loved it, and couldn't wait to see what happened next.

She was his, and he had to have her. Now. He turned her, bending her over his desk as he pulled her dress up to expose her luscious ass. His erection went impossibly harder when he found the scrap of lace barely covering her visibly wet. Without further hesitation, he tore the lace from her, released his aching cock, and plunged in.

Possessed. She was beyond full and utterly possessed by Mason and it was perfect. She grabbed the edge of the desk and held on as he rode her relentlessly, filling and retreating in an almost frantic rhythm. She knew he needed to control, to dominate, to own her if only for this moment, and gave herself over to him.

He knew he should slow down, should be more gentle, but he was too consumed by need. He slammed into her, loving the sounds falling from her mouth, the clasp of her muscles around him. When she clamped down on him, milking him, he released deep within her.

~*~

Priscilla shook sawdust from her heel, hating how low Mason had made her stoop. A bar in the backwoods of Maryland was not her idea of a good time. She suppressed a shudder. She was here on a mission, nothing less, and she would buck up and take care of business. For Mason, she could endure anything. She took a deep breath to brace herself and immediately regretted it. Stale smoke, beer and body odor filled her nostrils and turned her stomach. Pretending she was unaffected, she turned to the scarred bar with an ancient biker behind it. “I'm looking for Dylan Black. He's expecting me.”

“Is he now?” The bartender asked, his lips covered by a thick, gray handlebar mustache. She waited as he gave her a slow perusal, his eyes almost black in the dim light. “You sure you're here to see Dylan?” he asked.

“That's who I asked for, isn't it?” she snapped.

With a shrug he said, “Ol' Dylan is moving up in the world.” At her impatient gesture, he gave her a raspy chuckle. “In the back,” he directed with a jerk of his head.

She pulled her spine straight, squared her shoulders, and picked her way through sawdust, crumbs, and peanut shells to a table in a dark corner. She couldn't imagine what else was on the floor she couldn't see, but chose to ignore it. Never before had she been in a place like this, and she vowed she never would again after tonight.

“Mister Black?” she asked as she slid into the rickety chair across from him. Her initial assessment was a good one. A bear of a man, he had a craggy, furred face and a large muscular body to go with it.

“Depends who's askin'.” He studied the woman, so out of place here in her pretty suit and sparkling diamonds. She was a delicate thing, small and blonde. Why would a woman like this come looking for him?

She cleared her throat, as if the words she wanted to say were stuck. Finally, she said, “I am in need of your services.”

A wide grin broke through the fur. “What kind of services are you in need of, little lady?”

“I need you to take care of someone for