Page 19 of Tempting Kat (Lust & Luxury #2)

Katarina

I 'm gonna kill him. I'm actually gonna fucking murder Conrad Gallo with my bare hands and plead temporary insanity when they drag me to court.

Opening the suite door, I step in, cursing his damn name to hell.

“Fucking Conrad Gallo with his fancy-ass hotel and his stupid napkins and his goddamn sexy face that I want to punch and kiss at the same time,” I mutter, dropping the bags in the entryway. “Thinks he can just solve everything with his black card and his big?—”

“Do go on and tell me more about how infuriating and fine you think I am.”

I freeze, my heart slamming against my ribs like it's trying to escape.

There he is, lounging in a leather chair in the foyer like some kind of fucking morally grey villain, one ankle resting on his opposite knee, looking impossibly good in dark jeans and a black button-down with the sleeves rolled up to expose those forearms that shouldn't be as hot as they are.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” I demand, trying to ignore the way my pulse kicks up just looking at him.

“It's my suite,” he says simply, those dark eyes tracking over my body like he's cataloging every inch. “I think the better question is what took you so long?”

I cross my arms over my chest, painfully aware that I'm wearing the same clothes I worked in, now wrinkled and smelling of spilled beer.

“I don’t need a daddy, but thanks.”

He stands up in one fluid motion, and fuck me if he doesn't somehow look even taller and broader than I remember. As if I hadn’t just seen him less than an hour ago.

He moves toward me with a predatory grace that makes my stomach flip, stopping just close enough that I have to tilt my head back to maintain eye contact.

“Hm, well one thing for sure is that what you need,” he says, his voice dropping to that register that makes my thighs clench, “is to learn when to accept help.”

“What I need is a shower and some sleep, not a lecture from my stalker boss.”

His eyes darken at the word 'stalker,' but he doesn't rise to the bait. Instead, he reaches out and tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, his fingers lingering against my skin just long enough to send shivers down my spine.

“The bathroom's through there,” he says, nodding toward a door on the right.

I step back, breaking contact with his hand. “Great. Thanks for the tour. You can go now.”

His jaw tightens at my dismissal, and the muscle in his cheek twitches. I shouldn't find it hot, but fuck me if I don't want to lick it.

“I'm not leaving,” he says, and his voice is so deep it practically vibrates through me.

“I'm a big girl, Conrad. I can handle myself.” I step around him, deliberately brushing against his shoulder as I pass, just to be a bitch.

His hand shoots out, wrapping around my wrist like a manacle. Not tight enough to hurt, but firm enough that I can't easily pull away.

“That's the problem, isn't it?” he says, pulling me closer until I can smell his cologne. Something expensive and woodsy that makes my mouth water. “You're so used to handling everything yourself that you can't recognize when someone wants to take care of you.”

I yank my arm, but his grip tightens. “Let go.”

“Make me,” he challenges, those dark eyes boring into mine.

Something inside me snaps. I'm tired, I'm frustrated, I'm fucking horny, and this man has been driving me insane for weeks. I surge forward, grabbing his shirt with my free hand and yanking him down to my level.

Our lips crash together, and holy shit, it's like someone lit a match in a pool of gasoline. His mouth is hot and demanding against mine, and I can taste liquor on his tongue as it slides against my own. He groans into my mouth, a primal sound that makes my pussy clench.

I bite his lower lip, hard enough to make him hiss, and he retaliates by releasing my wrist only to grab a handful of my hair, tilting my head back to deepen the kiss. His other hand snakes around my waist, pulling me flush against his body so I can feel every hard inch of him.

“Fuck,” I gasp against his mouth. “I fucking hate you.”

“No, you don't,” he growls, his teeth grazing my jaw. “You hate how much you want me.”

He's right, but I'd rather die than admit it. Instead, I push him back against the wall, my hands fumbling with the buttons of his shirt. I want to feel his skin, need to touch him like I need my next breath.

Conrad lets me have control for about three seconds before he's spinning us around, pinning me to the wall with his body. His hands slide under my thighs, lifting me effortlessly so my legs wrap around his waist.

“Two fucking weeks,” he snarls against my neck, his teeth scraping my pulse point. “Two weeks of your bratty little texts and you ignoring my fucking calls.”

I grind against the hard ridge of his cock through his jeans, loving the way his breath hitches. “Poor baby,” I taunt, rolling my hips harder.

His grip tightens in my hair, and before I can even process what's happening, Conrad's walking through the suite, carrying me like I weigh nothing. My legs are still wrapped around his waist, his mouth still hot on my neck, and I'm clinging to him like my life depends on it.

“You think you can tease me for weeks and not face consequences?” He growls against my throat, kicking open a door to what must be the bedroom.

“What are you gonna do about it?” I taunt, digging my nails down his back through his shirt.

The next thing I know, I'm airborne. He tosses me onto the massive bed like I'm nothing more than a rag doll. I bounce once on the plush mattress, trying to catch my breath, but he's on me in an instant, his large hands gripping the waistband of my jean shorts.

“These fucking shorts,” he snarls, yanking them down my legs in one swift motion. “Do you have any idea what they do to me? How many men stare at your ass when you bend over?”

I try to kick at him, but he catches my ankle easily. “Maybe I like being looked at.”

Something dangerous flashes in his eyes. “The only one who gets to look at you like that is me.”

Before I can fire back with another smart remark, he flips me over in one smooth motion, then sits on the edge of the bed. In the next instant, I'm face-down across his lap, my ass in the air and my face pressed against the expensive bedspread.

“What the fuck?” I sputter, trying to push myself up. His large hand presses firmly between my shoulder blades, keeping me in place.

“I think it's time we addressed that mouth of yours,” Conrad says, his voice dangerously calm. His free hand traces the curve of my ass, his touch feather-light through the thin fabric of my panties.

“Get off me, you fucking caveman!” I struggle against his hold, but it's like fighting against a brick wall.

“You've been begging for this since the moment we met,” he says, and I can hear the dark smile in his voice. His hand leaves my ass for a moment, then comes down with a sharp crack that echoes through the room.

“Fuck!” The sting blooms across my right cheek. I should be outraged. I should be fighting harder. Instead, I feel a rush of wetness between my thighs, my pussy clenching around nothing.

“That's one,” Conrad says, his voice thick with satisfaction. “I think ten should do it. Unless you'd like to apologize for being such a brat?”

“Fuck you,” I spit out, even as my hips shift subtly, seeking friction against his thigh.

His laugh is low and dangerous. “Wrong answer.”

His hand comes down again, harder this time, on my left cheek.

“That's two,” he growls, and I feel the heat bloom across my ass. “You want to try for a better answer?”

“Yeah, here's your answer. You can go fuck yourself!” I snap, twisting in his grip.

His hand comes down again, harder this time. “Three. Keep it up, and we'll go past ten.”

The sting spreads through my body like wildfire, and I hate how much I'm getting off on this. My panties are soaked, and I can feel myself dripping onto his pants.

“Four,” he counts after another sharp slap. “Your ass is turning such a pretty shade of pink.”

“Is this supposed to be a punishment?” I taunt, even as my voice breaks slightly. “Because it feels like you just can't keep your hands off my peach.”

“Five,” he says, his palm connecting with my tender flesh again. “And you're right—I can't keep my hands off you. Especially when you're being such a fucking brat.”

I bite my lip to keep from moaning as he lands another hard smack. “Six. Look at you, squirming on my lap like the little pain slut you are.”

“I'm not a—” My protest is cut off by another stinging blow.

“Seven. Don't lie to me. Your pussy is soaking through your panties onto my leg.”

He's right, and I hate it. I can feel the wetness between my thighs, my clit throbbing with every strike of his hand.

“Eight,” he counts, his voice getting rougher. “Tell me you deserve this.”

I clench my jaw, refusing to give him the satisfaction. His hand comes down again, harder than before, and I can't hold back the whimper that escapes me.

“Nine. Say it, Katarina. Tell me you deserve to be punished for being such a fucking brat.”

My resolve is crumbling. My pussy is on fire, desperate for relief, and my ass burns from his spanking. “Please,” I whisper, hating how needy I sound.

“Please what?” His hand hovers over my ass, threatening.

“Please stop,” I gasp, not because I want him to stop completely, but because I need more—need his fingers, his cock, anything inside me.

“That doesn't sound like admitting you deserve this punishment.” His fingers slip beneath the edge of my cheeky panties, tracing where my ass meets thigh.

“Ten,” he says with finality, delivering the hardest slap yet. I cry out, my body jerking against his.

“Please, Conrad,” I beg, all pride forgotten. “I need to cum. Please let me cum.”

“Oh, now the brat wants to cum?” His fingers slide further, finding the soaked fabric covering my pussy. “After all that attitude?”

“Yes,” I moan, pushing back against his hand.