Perv by Becca Jameson Page B

eating right out of the container with his finger.
    When he licked his lips, she had to stifle a moan.
    “I have three rounds in mind for tonight, but not the kind you’re thinking of.” He stood, grabbing the ice cream and the lid, and rounded the couch. In seconds, he was in the kitchen putting the container in the freezer. “You’ll need to wear more than that, though.” He returned to her side, grabbed her wrist in his usual high-handed manner, and tugged her to her bedroom.
    Jenna stood rooted to the floor stunned. She glanced down at what she currently wore and crossed her arms. She didn’t even have a bra on.
    Mason stepped into her closet and rummaged around while she scowled at him.
    “What do you think you’re doing? I never agreed to go anywhere with you.”
    He stepped back out, but didn’t make eye contact. Instead he plopped his treasures on her bed—her favorite skinny jeans, a black camisole, and the black fuck-me heels she only wore when she went to bars with her friends.
    Mason glanced at his watch. “Come on. Time’s a wasting.”
    She stared at him. He had to be kidding.
    When he finally turned her way, he let his shoulders slump and cocked his head. “You know you want to. Don’t give me that pouty look. I know you’re angry. I get that. But come out with me tonight. I bet I can change your mind about me.” He sauntered up to her, pulled her arms away from her chest, and lifted her tank top over her head. Next he lowered her boxers and tapped her leg until she stepped out.
    Naked again. Dammit. How did he manage to do this to her over and over? She still hadn’t seen his chest.
    Jenna held her head high, stomped over to the bed, and grabbed the jeans she loved. How had he known the right outfit to choose? She lifted her gaze to his as she wiggled her ass into the tight denim, fully aware her breasts were jiggling as she rocked her ass back and forth. She intentionally didn’t wear underwear. Let him ponder that for the evening. “Why do I keep stripping for you?” she muttered as she reached for a black lace bra from her chest of drawers.
    “Because you can’t help yourself.” He grinned. “You’re a natural.”
    “A natural what?”
    He didn’t answer.
    “When you say you’re going to change my mind about you, what do you mean?”
    “I mean I’m not right for you. You need to know that. I’m going to prove it the only way I know how.” He fisted his hands at his sides as he watched her dress.
    She shrugged the camisole over her head and smoothed it into place. “And this is for my benefit? Why do you need to prove anything to me? I was fine never seeing you again.”
    He lifted a brow. “Were you now?” He shifted his weight. “Well, maybe I needed to prove something to myself also.”
    Good. At least she wasn’t the only one affected by their strange chemistry. She toed the shoes and slipped her feet into them. “If the goal is to convince me I’m all wrong for you, why the fuck-me shoes?” She smirked at him and then headed to the bathroom. She would need to at least let her hair down and comb it out. It was pin straight, so no styling would be necessary, but the knot she currently wore didn’t go well with the outfit.
    Mason meandered up to the doorframe and leaned on it while he watched her apply makeup.
    She eyed him in the mirror as she dabbed on mascara and then reached for her lipstick.
    He wasn’t dressed in any particular fashion that indicated where he might be taking her. He wore low-riding jeans that made her mouth water. They hugged his ass to perfection and did amazing things to his cock also. His T-shirt was gray and sported some karate logo. Tennis shoes rounded out the ensemble, making her wonder why he was having her out-dress him.
    “Ready?” he asked when she set the last of her makeup down and turned to him.
    “I suppose. When will you be letting me in on the mystery?” She followed him from the room and shook her head when he grabbed