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Viva Los Regalos: Kat and Mouse
In The Game of Cat and Mouse, Someone Is Bound To Get Eaten.
©2007 Lexxie Couper
Available Now
Australian Federal cop Katrina O’Brien’s on the tail of an international jewel thief, a mysterious criminal known only as The Mouse. She’s not going to let him get away, even when his trail leads her to the sinfully decadent US resort Los Regalos, a place where your every desire is catered to. Katrina’s desires run deep and dark, and The Mouse is more than willing to accommodate them. But so is someone else. Someone who’s been watching them both. Someone who knows everything about them…
Someone dangerous.
Someone powerful.
Someone not human…
***
Flynn held her wrists, holding them behind her in a grip both inescapable and powerful. “Why did you come here?”
The feel of his body pressed to hers made her pussy flood with cream. His cock, ram-rod straight and harder than steel, ground against her ass, burning her flesh like a brand even through the cotton of her shorts. “To see you,” she answered, her normally confident voice just a whisper.
“To see me or to be fucked by me?”
Both.
She wanted to say the word, but it refused to pass her lips. Instead, she tried to pull away from his hold. “Let me go.”
“Tell me!” he demanded, jerking on her wrists.
Her shoulders ached a little, a slight burn that made her feel alive. Her life had been about playing it safe, never taking risks, but everything about Flynn Masters was a risk. An addictive risk…
“Tell me!”
“Both.”
One hand left her wrists and reached around her body, closing over her left breast with a possessive arrogance. She whimpered, a pitiful sound that seemed louder than a gun shot. “I told you never to come here.”
The growled statement made her skin tingle. Her nipples pinched harder, straining against the material of her bra and t-shirt. How could she not come to him? When he made her feel so… so…
Wanted?
Was that it? Was that the attraction? The desperate longings of a lonely child of affluent parents who didn’t know how to stop working? Who sent her to boarding school the moment she could spell her name?
Or was it more?
Dangerous.
Love.
His hand left her breast, fingers tickling the lines of her ribcage as he explored a line down to her waist. With an ease both disturbing and thrilling he slipped his hand under the hem of her shirt, pressing his palm to her bare skin.
She gasped and arced her spine, pressing her ass harder to his rigid shaft.
“Is this why you disobeyed me? To have me touch you?”
She didn’t answer.
He skimmed his hand up the curve of her ribcage, capturing her breast once again. Her nipples puckered into painful tips of want, rubbing against the material of her bra, pushing his palm with an urgency that sent hot ribbons of shame and hunger into her being.
“This isn’t a game, Katrina.” The growl in her ear made her shiver. “If you’re here to be fucked, tell me.”
“I’m here to be fucked.”
The hands on her body grew brutal and she whimpered again, eyelids fluttering close, pussy pooling with wet rapture.
“By who?”
Her cunt constricted. Her knickers grew damp. Anger flared in her chest. Anger at herself. At him. “By you, Flynn. Only you.”
Without warning, he curled his fingers around the edge of her bra and ripped it aside, claiming her breast with a force that made her cry out. “Tell me again.” He pinched her nipple, rolling the nub of flesh between thumb and finger even as he tightened his grip on her wrists. “Tell me what you want me to do to you. I want to hear it from your lips.”
She bucked against him, molten lust pouring into her sex. His strength overwhelmed her, stole her breath.
Just a lonely rich girl longing for danger…
She still remembered his almost inaudible words after the first time they’d kissed, uttered with deep rancour. Who he was bitter with she didn’t know, but she couldn’t stay away. And he didn’t want her to. She could tell. In the gentle way he brushed the hair from her face after he’d taken her on the bed, against the wall. In the softness in his eyes as he studied her, post-coitus, his fingers trailing over her body in a delicate exploration, as if he’d never seen something so precious. He was an enigma, a contradiction she wanted to solve. An addiction she didn’t want to do without.
God, did she love him?
Arrogant fingers flicked her nipple and the thought vanished, replaced by a wave of wild heat that poured into her very core. She writhed against him and he bit her neck, his teeth and tongue torturing her skin. She cried out, bucking in his hold. The action drove his cock harder to her ass, its insistent length setting her blood on fire.
Teeth nipped at her earlobe, sending shards of exquisite pain through her body. “Tell me!”
“I want you to touch me. To fuck me.”
The hand on her wrist tugged, bowing her backward, thrusting her breasts forward. “How?”
She sucked in a ragged breath, pulse pounding. “Hard.”
He squeezed her breast, his knuckles razing her aching, eager nipple. “Don’t say it if you don’t mean it, Kat. Don’t play with me like I’m a – “
…toy.
The disembodied word floated through Katrina’s sleep-clouded brain like a ghostly whisper. She opened her eyes, staring about herself, completely confused.
Where was she?
A massive painting of a wild cat, a lynx, stared down at her from the wall above her head and it came back to her in a rush. Los Regalos. Abaddon. The Mouse.
And another memory…
Dragging her hands through her hair, she dropped her head. When had she fallen asleep? Hell, when had she even sat on the bed.
When you discovered the cat’s collar.
She snapped straight, staring at the latex costume still stretched out on display, albeit a little tussled now, beside her on the bed. Nothing new had arrived while she slept. No sudden appearance of a bottle of catnip or tray of kitty-litter.
Rubbing at her face she turned to the suite’s far window. Sunlight flooded the room, painting everything with a golden glow. She squinted at it, feeling more fuzzy and jet-lagged than ever. God, how long had she been asleep for?
A quick glance at her watch gave her the answer. Five hours. Five hours sleep in the last forty-eight. She suppressed a groan. No wonder she was having disturbing dreams. Sleep deprivation was a legitimate psychological tor-
Blackjack tomorrow. 6am. Or has the Kat become a chicken?
The Mouse’s arrogant note flashed through her head and she leapt to her feet. 6am! Damn. It was already 5:45!
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