Ripped (Real, #5)(22)

SIX


I KNEW SHE’D SCRAMBLE MY BRAINS


Mackenna


“So, you f*ck her in the closet?”

The twins? Yeah, these f*ckers have had too many J?gerbombs and lemonshots. “You two f*cking dickheads are going to get f*cked, by me.” I shove Lex first, then Jax shoves me, and we push and shove our way into our suite.

I fall down on the couch and the girls soon follow, manicured fingers rubbing up my arms and chest.

“She’s such a bitch,” one whispers.

“She’s not that pretty either,” says the other.

My stomach writhes with need. Not that pretty? She’s all I f*cking see. Right now. In my head. Dark hair, liquid dark eyes, that dark mouth of hers that apparently still makes me hard as a teenager. “Do me a favor, get me something to drink,” I whisper to the girls, and I rub the back of my neck as I wait for them to come back.

Whoa, this encounter worked you up, Jones!

Fuck her, she’s getting to me again. But I can’t let her.

“Come back so we can f*ck,” I shout after them. Shutting my eyes, it’s no use. I can’t get rid of the way she looked at me, with those angry dark-as-sin eyes, that ridiculous pink streak in her hair. I’m still throbbing under the zipper of my jeans, aching for her touch.

I need to work it out of my system. I need to work her out of my system. I suck on my middle finger, and my cock twitches. She tastes good, smelled good, felt good. She smelled like my teen years. Back then, her skin and hair smelled of coconut—like a damn beach. And now, even though her looks are dark as sin, she smells like anyone’s dream vacation. Her tits are fuller than I remember. Still not big, but just right on her. And, here’s an odd thought, I want them again. In my mouth. I want to f*ck that girl. God f*ck me standing. I want to f*ck her until she can’t walk and neither can I, for that matter.

Jax grabs one of the girls and pulls off his shirt, then his pants.

“No one wants to see you naked, Jax,” I cry, tossing him a pillow.

“Only a million people,” he returns.

I narrow my eyes as the girls bring me a whiskey, straight up, and I down it in one second as they rub my body like it’s made of the most precious material on the planet.

There’s a strange modern drawing on the ceiling of the suite, and my eyes trace the swirls as I think of that mouth of hers. That mouth of hers. I could kiss that mouth of hers again. She kisses like her kiss could kill, and I’m suicidal enough to want that f*cking kiss again, just as badly as I did when I was younger.

I like bad things—booze, threesomes, orgies, smoking. But the baddest thing I’ve ever wanted is Pandora, and I want her deep and hard, like wanting to tie myself to a sinking ship and letting it take me under. So when one of the girls tugs on my shirt and presses her mouth to mine, the moment she trails her tongue along my lips, I pull away and laugh at myself.

“You know what? I think I feel like torturing Pandora a little longer,” I tell them, easing away and zipping my jeans back up.

“Kenna . . . ,” they chorus, pouting.

“Where you going?” Lex calls.

“Obviously back to hell.” One of the cameras follows me down the hall. I stop the cameraman, Noah, and tell him, “Not this, dude.”

“I can’t come into her room. Leo said it was the only way she’d sign a contract.”

“Really now?” I stare at him as I register the singular truth that Pandora’s bedroom is a safe place from cameras. “Excellent. She’s smart, that woman. And mad. Stay away from her.”

“Like you are?” he snorts.

“Stay away from her,” I repeat. “Stay the f*ck away from her, and a couple of feet away from me.”

I charge back down the hall and knock on the door. There’s a flash at the peephole as she seems to peer through. She groans. And holy shit, even that groan I can feel in my dick.

I knock again. “Gonna knock all night if I have to!” The door swings open and she’s . . .

Fuck.

Her pupils are dilated, her hair loose, and she’s in a short T-shirt. I can’t take it. The blood storms hot in my veins. I open my mouth, my tone low. “I’m f*cking desperate for you.”

She glances at the camera, then at me. She opens her mouth to say something, sees the camera again, and says, “You’re such a drama queen.”

“Drag prince,” I shoot back.

She frowns and makes a move to slam the door in my face, but I stop her with the toe of my boot. “Come on, Pink,” I say, my heart pounding as I grab her by the neck so she looks into my eyes. “You want this,” I urge. I dare not even consider what it’ll be like if she sends me back to my room. Failure is not an option here. My body is tense with the need for me to sink myself inside this woman until she comes for me. “You’re desperate for me too,” I whisper, massaging her scalp with my fingers. “Aren’t you? You’re wishing you hadn’t kissed me in the closet, but you did. We both did. And now we can’t stop here.”

Her eyes keep drifting to my mouth, and that act alone makes standing here with a hard-on only one step inside her room nearly the most impossible feat of my entire existence. “What happened to your threesome?” she dares me, and I can hear from the texture in her voice she’s caving in.