Unmasked by Kate Douglas Page A

with the damned thing, and promptly dropped it.
    He leaned over to pick it up and almost fell on his face when the world spun a little too fast. “Oh . . . shit.” He grabbed the key, stuck it in the lock, and after a couple of fumbles got the door open. Moving very carefully, he managed to get inside his apartment without falling on his ass.
    He leaned against the closed door a minute and let the world right itself once more. Then he tossed his backpack on the floor and slipped out of his jacket, but when he turned to dump his coat on the chair, something sweet tickled his senses.
    He sniffed the air.
    “What the hell?” Mac inhaled again, drawing the rich scent into his lungs. Vanilla? Honey? It was vaguely familiar, but he couldn’t quite place it. Flipping on the light in the kitchen area, he glanced around to see if he’d left anything out.
    The counters were clean, the sink empty except for a coffee cup and a cereal bowl. He sniffed the air again, but the scent that had seemed so pervasive eluded him now.
    Yawning, seriously regretting those last few beers, Mac headed to the bathroom for a shower. If he relaxed enough and went to sleep thinking about the new graphics program, maybe he’d dream a solution. With any luck, his subconscious—what Dink called his lizard brain—would figure it out.
    Except, once he’d stripped and stood beneath the hot spray, his damned lizard brain focused on his dick instead of the program. Mac glanced ruefully at the tip of his cock.
    The broad head with its dark slit stared up at him as if begging for attention. “Shit. You’re supposed to be ready for bed.” Grinning like an idiot, he wrapped his right fist around his shaft and cupped his testicles in his left hand. “Wonder what it means when a guy has conversations with his cock?”
    He refused to answer himself. Instead, Mac leaned against the tile wall with the hot water beating down on his chest and shoulders and stroked himself with a firm grip, stretching soft, pliable skin over hard meat with one hand, rolling his balls between the fingers of the other.
    His mind wandered as the pressure grew. He wanted a visual, but the redhead just pissed him off and her image quickly faded. He thought of Dink, but that was more than a little unsettling. Then his fantasy morphed into a woman with long black hair and intelligent violet eyes.
    She smiled at him, and he knew her. The one he’d described earlier to Dink—the perfect woman. Mac’s ultimate fantasy.
    His cock actually jerked within his grasp. He was leaking pre-cum now, almost faster than the shower could rinse it away. He tugged harder on his balls, rolling the solid orbs between his fingers, squeezing his fist tighter around the base of his dick, finding a rhythm he knew couldn’t last.
    His balls sucked up close between his legs. He tightened his grasp and squeezed them almost painfully as his fantasy woman floated just inside his field of vision. He concentrated on her face, on the deep violet eyes and cascade of coal-black hair curling around her shoulders.
    She was too real, too perfect for him to have invented her, but Mac had no idea where he’d seen her. She was beyond gorgeous, miles beyond any woman he could recall. The scent of honey and vanilla filled his senses and raised his temperature. She gazed up at him with the water cascading over her shoulders, across the fullness of her perfect breasts. Her nipples were a deep rose against porcelain skin, their tips drawn tight.
    She smiled and then slowly dropped to her knees and nuzzled his groin as the spray slicked long dark hair back from her face and steam filled the shower stall. The tip of her tongue slipped between full lips and she licked the side of his shaft, nipping daintily just at the juncture where his cock rooted to his groin. His entire body tensed.
    The room spun. Too much beer, too much sensation, but her mouth on his dick anchored him. Deep crimson lips encircled the broad head. He