Drive Me Wild (Ridden Hard, #4)

by Allyson Lindt

  She raised her brows, but didn’t pull away from his touch. “Hefner? As in Hugh?”

  “You don’t think he had an appreciation for the human form?”

  “Not the way you’re saying.”

  Mason definitely liked naked women. He was having an impossible time ignoring the flashes of memory of what Ginny looked like, stripped down. Writing in pleasure. Flushed after climax. She’d said she wasn’t taking sex off the table, even tonight. If he was supposed to learn to speak his mind, there had to be a line between doing that and being an overbearing ass. If he segued into sex, was he the guy who couldn’t take no for an answer?

  “It’s not all about nudity,” he meant it. Despite the vivid images teasing his thoughts. “How much teasing did you do on stage? There’s an art and a beauty in that.”

  “The ultimate goal is still naked.” Was she arguing because she meant it, or just to play devil’s advocate?

  “Not always. If I told you to take off your shirt, would you just yank it over your head and toss it aside?”

  Her smile was back. Teasing. Drawing his gaze to her full lips. “Probably not.”

  “Why not, if the goal is being naked?”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Ginny smirked. “Touché. Do you want me to take off my shirt?”

  Yes. God, yes. “Do you get upset if I tell you that I do?”

  “I get upset if you lie, regardless of your answer.” She pushed away from the couch, stretching and elongating her frame as she stood. Each movement was its own graceful act.

  Ginny drew her hands up her sides, to stretch her arms over her head. The sensuous display hummed through him, lighting his nerve endings up. She spun so her back was to him, then grabbed the hem of her shirt. She wiggled her hips as she slowly crept the fabric up her torso, whirling to face him again when her stomach was exposed.

  She shimmied out of the top—he didn’t even know how it was possible to shimmy clothing up, but she did it—and tossed the T at him.

  Stunning. The word stuck in his head as he studied her, standing there in jeans and a bra. Was it because she was a half-naked woman?

  No. It was because she was Ginny.

  She slipped a finger under a bra strap, and slid it down her shoulder.

  “Just the shirt. Nothing else.” He stopped her.

  “You have me half topless. What do you plan on doing with me?” There was a catch in her defiant tone.

  The tension that hummed in the room made his pulse race and his heart hammer. This was almost as simple as the kissing, but he was more turned on than he ever remembered being.

  He stood and approached her. “Appreciating you.” He hesitated for a moment, then rested a palm on her stomach. Her bare skin was hot against his, and it sent a spike of desire through him.

  She leaned into his touch, rather than pulling away, and caught her bottom lip between her teeth.

  Mason glided higher, to cup her breasts. He kneaded through lace, and she whimpered. Fucking whimpered. His cock jerked in response. He wanted to memorize everything about her—the pink flush that spread across pale skin and melted into freckles. The soft curls of orange framing her face.

  And those delicious noises she was making... Those would keep him company in his dreams for a long time.

  He continued to tease and pinch, using the quickening of her breath and the fluttering of her eyelids as a gauge.

  “Is this the second-base version of appreciating me?” Her teasing question was breathy, ending in a gasp when he rolled a nipple between his fingers.

  “This is proving such a thing is possible when you still have your clothes on.” He was making this shit up as he went, but it tasted real, and her responses sounded amazing.

  Her laugh was strained. “What if I’d rather you appreciate me in a different way?”

  He’d rather feel more of her, but this was about proving a point. “Do you want me to stop?” He tried to make the question threatening.

  “No. Fuck no. I want more. Preferably involving fewer clothes.”

  “Hmm...” He pretended to consider the question. He already knew his answer. “No.” He pinched her nipple again, and she gasped. Apparently, he could tease, too.

  “Excuse me?” She forced the question out.

  Fortunately, he could think of at least a few things that were possible while they both stayed technically clothed. “Kneel on the couch, facing away from me.” He hesitated to make the command. Would she counter and accuse him of being just like all other men?

  “So you can appreciate how good my ass looks in these jeans?” She knelt, and wiggled her butt at him.

  Okay, he was done asking himself too many questions. This was working in his favor, and she seemed to be enjoying it as much as he was. He moved behind her, and pressed a row of kisses down her bare spine. “Something like that.”

  He teased his fingers along the waistband of her jeans, trying to ignore the ache of his erection, begging to be free.

  When he undid her pants in a single jerk, and yanked them to her knees along with her panties, she squealed with surprised delight.

  She glanced over her shoulder. “I thought you wanted my clothes on.”

  “Technically they are.” He glided his hand along the curve of her ass, to slide between her legs. This was wicked, and delicious, and empowering.

  She was wet, and when he dipped two fingers inside her, she clenched around them. She rocked against the penetration.

  “You like that?” he asked.

  “It’s good. It could be better.”

  He smacked her ass, and the slap echoed through the room. “You’re a brat sometimes.” Was that all right to say? You’re not asking yourself anymore questions.

  “Only sometimes?” Her tone was playful. “I’ll try harder.”

  The joking was fun, but his dick was about to revolt. He freed himself, and rolled on a condom. Hand on the small of her back, he pressed her to the right height.

  “More like this?” He nudged her opening with the head of his cock.

  “Just like that.” She pushed back onto him, driving him deep inside her.

  Her pussy gripped him, tight and slick and hot. “Oh, fuck. You feel good.” Maybe he should have drawn things out a little longer. He wouldn’t last long like this. “Play with yourself,” he said. “I want to feel you come around me.”

  She slid her fingers between her legs, and he felt another squeeze. Even setting a slow pace, despite her efforts to the contrary, each plunge zinged over him. It buzzed with need along his skin and tightened in his balls.

  Ginny clenched around his cock. The sensation combined with her loud moan broke his restraint. Her voice, so close to climax, undid him.

  He pounded hard and fast, slamming against her. Each time he struck something deep, her cries grew louder. She came hard, milking him.

  The sensations overloaded his thoughts, and stars danced behind his eyelids. He gripped her hips tight, needing something to hold onto. When orgasm finally hit him, it washed through fast, clenching in his toes and fingers and making him squeeze his eyes shut.

  He hammered inside her until he was spent, and even then was reluctant to stop. “You feel so good.” He pulled her back into him, kissing her shoulder.

  “Mmm... I was going to say the same.”

  He smiled against her bare skin. “Stay with me tonight. Don’t sleep in your own bed.”

  “I’d be upset if you wanted otherwise.” She pressed into him.

  He was so fucked when this trip was over. Everything about this woman undid him, and he wasn’t going to be the same when they went their separate ways.

  He wasn’t willing to look that far ahead, even if it was only a few days away.

  MASON WAS DOING HIS best to ignore the throbbing in his skull. No reason to ruin a wonderful night by waking up with a horrific headache. The first double dose of ibuprofen didn’t work. He took a second a few minutes ago. Fingers crossed it kicked in soon.

&nb
sp; He shouldered his bag and Ginny’s.

  “I can get that,” she said.

  “I know, but I like playing the manly gentleman sometimes.”

  She smirked and held up her hands. “Fair enough. We out of here?”

  “I don’t know. What are the odds your friend will let us stay here for another week?” Mason enjoyed the luxury of the room, but more importantly, he liked the memories they’d made here. Even if it was only one night.

  It sucked he had this pounding in his skull and no drinking to go with it, but he was glad he’d been sober.

  She nudged him toward the hotel room door. “I have to work in a few days, and once we get your situation figured out, you’ll need to do the same. But I don’t think we should push our luck with his hospitality.” She left the key card on a nearby table, they stepped into the hallway, and the door swung shut behind them. “Speaking of, he mentioned he was in the office today. Do you mind if we stop in and tell him thanks before we go?”

  “Not a problem.” Mason figured it was the polite thing to do anyway.

  As they took the elevator downstairs, Ginny stood close enough her arm rested against his. She spoke with someone at the front desk, and a moment later, they were being shown through a long corridor that led away from the casino and hotel.

  They stepped through a door at the end of the hallway.

  Mason wasn’t sure what he expected—maybe some bulky, bald, Kingpin-looking dude who smelled like cigars.

  The gentleman who greeted them was taller than Mason’s six-foot-two, and well-muscled enough that his very-expensive-looking suit accented his entire frame. He was GQ handsome, and approached Ginny with a flawless smile. “I’m so glad you had a few minutes for me.” He kissed her on each cheek.

  Ginny’s smile was bright and sweet. “I’ve always got time for you, hon. This is my friend, Mason. Mason, this is Giovanni.”

  The word friend made Mason bristle. Or maybe it was that there was no hesitation when she said it. He shouldn’t care. It was exactly what they were, and friendship with Ginny was a good thing. “Pleasure to meet you.” He shook Giovanni’s hand. “Thanks for the room last night.”

  “It wasn’t a problem.” Giovanni spoke with the slightest hint of an accent. He practically oozed manliness. “Anything for my southern belle.” He moved to slap her ass.

  Ginny grabbed his wrist. “Hey, now.” Her tone was light and playful. “I’m not merchandise anymore.” She winked.

  Mason shoved his fist in his pocket. He wouldn’t get jealous. He didn’t mind. This wasn’t his business.

  “Someday I’ll find the right price. Everybody has one.” Giovanni chuckled.

  Mason wanted to deck him. How was Ginny not getting in his face for a comment like that?

  Instead, tsked. “You know better.”

  “Apologies, bella. I do. How are you enjoying the desert?”

  And now they were making small talk?

  “We saw some incredible red rocks in New Mexico and Arizona. I’d heard about them, but in person...” Ginny trailed off.

  Giovanni cupped her cheek. “As fiery as you.”

  She blushed. Fucking pink spread across her cheeks, and she studied her feet.

  Mason was done. He couldn’t watch this anymore. “Absolutely amazing. Anyway. Thank you for the room, but we need to get going to keep on schedule.”

  “Of course. Safe travels.” Giovanni kissed Ginny on both cheeks one more time, then got that ass slap in when they walked out the door.

  “I think he likes you.” Mason struggled to keep the jealousy from his voice as they made their way to his car. He only mostly succeeded.

  Ginny shrugged and slid into the driver’s seat. “He likes me naked and flashing my pussy. He doesn’t care who I am.”

  And now she was back to herself. But was she really? The Ginny he knew was direct and assured, not demure and permissive. Was she showing him a mask? Giving him what she thought he needed to see?

  That didn’t make sense. But the gnawing envy he couldn’t ignore insisted he was deluding himself to think he was anything but a ride and a fuck to Ginny.

  She’s told me otherwise. And I know she means it.

  Did he?

  Of course I do.

  Then why was doubt still churning inside?

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Ginny saw Mason’s demeanor shift when he met Giovanni. At first she thought she was imagining it.

  His jaw didn’t loosen after they got in the car, though. And as they headed north west, his half of the conversation became shorter sentences and with fewer syllable words.

  So much for friends first. On the one hand, she wanted to draw him out, talk through it, and make things right.

  On the other, she hadn’t done anything wrong, and she was tired of his judgment.

  Because you haven’t cast shade on his assumptions?

  But she’d said something. He was closing off and pretending it was all fine.

  She shouldn’t care. She suspected yesterday she wouldn’t have cared. Last night made it feel like things were changing. Like they were clicking.

  And now this.

  Ginny couldn’t reach past the ache inside, to be an adult about the entire thing. Instead, she drove.

  The clouds that moved in matched her mood. A little thunder would be nice. Enhance the ambiance in the car.

  When they pulled into the next gas station, and she stepped from the car, a chill raced down her spine. “Is it supposed to be this cold?”

  “Dunno.” Mason shrugged, and headed inside.

  So much for continuing that conversation. She dug a sweatshirt from her bag and tugged it on. By the time she made it inside, Mason had already paid for his purchase.

  “Nothing for me, thanks. I’m fine,” she mumbled as he walked past her.

  “Didn’t want to make any assumptions.” He never paused as he headed back to the car.

  Fucking manchild asshole. It was tempting to toss him the keys and tell him she’d find her own ride the rest of the way.

  As she rolled the ring around her finger, she couldn’t summon the words. She didn’t want to be mad at him, or for him to be mad at her.

  Time to pull up her big girl panties and open a dialogue.

  A few minutes later, they were back on the freeway. She rolled her opening over in her head.

  I’m sorry if Giovanni upset you.

  No. Because she wasn’t apologizing for something that wasn’t her fault.

  I didn’t mean to make you jealous.

  That was a little closer.

  I’m not a fucking whore. He’s just a guy who did a favor for me.

  Nope. Definitely not going into the conversation on that note.

  A few flakes of white struck the windshield, melting into drops of water immediately.

  “What’s that?” she asked.

  “Probably snow.” The duh was implied in Mason’s retort.

  Super helpful. Thanks. She clenched her jaw.

  A few flakes turned to dozens, and then so many she had to turn on the windshield wipers.

  It was accumulating on the road at an alarming rate. Heavy, thick, and slushy. She gripped the steering wheel tight. They were in the middle of nowhere, with the nearest exit at least thirty miles away.

  She slowed the car to a crawl. She’d never driven in more than half an inch of snow before. Her focus narrowed to a fine point on the road. Was she supposed to turn with the skid? Away from it?

  Cars zoomed up on her, and then past her. She was going too slow, but she didn’t dare go any faster. Her heart jammed in her throat.

  A semi roared past, splashing slush and ice on the windshield so heavily the wipers couldn’t cut through it. Her pulse hammered in her ears at the temporary loss in visibility. “I need to pull over.”

  “You need to get us to the next exit.” Mason’s voice was tight. “If you stop here, you put us in a lot of danger from oncoming traffic, and we may not get started again. Ev
en a child knows that.”

  Her throat was tight, and tears of frustration pricked her eyes. She kept going out of spite as much as anything.

  She didn’t know how long they drove, at a snail’s pace, before the sun broke through the clouds. The ice on the road eased up, and then they were to the next exit. She pulled into the first parking lot, hopped from the car, and stomped her feet.

  The instant Mason got out, she turned on him. “Thanks for your fucking support, asshole. Like I wasn’t terrified enough already?”

  “Maybe if you hadn’t taken us that stupid fucking detour, we wouldn’t have run into the snow.”

  Her anger surged. “I didn’t order a snowstorm. How is the weather my fault? How is us stopping a reason for the snow?”

  “If we hadn’t cut through Las Vegas, we wouldn’t have come this far north until California.”

  “They have snow in Northern California too, jackass.” She was screaming, and she didn’t care. “Besides, you weren’t complaining about Las Vegas last night.”

  Hesitation flashed across Mason’s face, and was instantly replaced with irritation. “This detour is going to cost us time and money. Both of which I’m short on right now.”

  “And an extra three hours isn’t going to change that one way or another.” She threw the keys at him. “You drive. One less thing for you to blame me for.”

  “Fine. At least I can keep us a little bit on track.” He had to fumble in the slush to find his car keys.

  She wished she could feel smug about it. To think, she’d almost invited him to stay with her once they got to California. “Glad I didn’t make that mistake.” Shit, she didn’t mean to say that aloud.

  “What mistake?” Mason sneered.

  “I was going to let you come stay with me, until you got established. I have a big apartment waiting. But if you’re going to be an asshole every time something pisses you off? Fuck you.”