Page 20 of Tempting Kat
“Yeah, well, my ass is getting numb, and I'm bored as fuck. So, either talk to me or I'm going to start singing show tunes to entertain myself.”
I chuckle, the sound rumbling from deep in my chest. “What would you like to talk about, Katarina?”
“First off, it's Kat. Only my grandmother and assholes call me Katarina.”
“I'll keep that in mind,” I say, though I have no intention of stopping. The way her full name rolls off my tongue is too satisfying. “But I paid for Katarina, so that's what you'll be tonight.”
She snorts, the sound crackling through the intercom. “Wow, real big man energy there. You paid for it, so you own it, huh?”
“I don't own you.” Yet. The word hangs unspoken between us. “But I did pay for the privilege of calling you whatever the fuck I want. Well, within reason.”
Her legs shift again, thighs pressing together in a way that makes my cock jump. I wonder if she's wet. If all this attitude is just a cover for how turned on she is.
“Fine,” she huffs. “Call me whatever you want, Mr. Gallo.”
The way she says my name—like it's a challenge, like she's daring me to correct her—sends a jolt straight to my groin.
“Tell me something, Katarina. Are you always this mouthy with people?”
“Only the ones who bore me,” she fires back immediately.
I lean forward, close enough that my breath ghosts over her skin. Not touching—not yet—but close enough that she can feel my presence.
“Am I boring you?” I ask, my voice dropping to a dangerous rumble.
Her breath hitches, audible even through the intercom. “I mean, you've been staring at my lower half for an hour without saying shit, so yeah, kind of.”
“Would you prefer I touch instead of look?” I keep my voice casual, but there's an edge to it that I know she'll catch.
“That wasn't part of the deal,” she says quickly, but her legs shift again, betraying her interest.
“The deal can be...renegotiated.” I let the words hang there, heavy with promise.
“For the right price?” She tries to sound flippant, but there's a breathiness to her voice now.
“For the right response.” I lean back in my chair, crossing one ankle over my knee. “Tell me, Katarina, are you wet right now?”
The intercom goes silent for a beat too long. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me.” I keep my voice steady, commanding. “Are. You. Wet?”
“That's none of your fucking business,” she snaps, but her legs twitch, answering my question better than words ever could.
“Everything about you is my fucking business now,” I growl. “Six figures buys me that much at least.”
“It buys you the right to look at my ass through a hole in the wall,” she counters. “Not a detailed report on the state of my pussy.”
My cock twitches violently at her crude language. Fuck, I want to rip those shorts off her and bury my face between her thighs until she's soaking my beard.
“That wasn't a no,” I point out, my voice dropping an octave lower. “You didn't actually deny being wet for me.”
Her legs shift again, and I can see the goosebumps rising on her skin. I'm getting to her.
“Are you picturing what I look like right now?” I ask, leaning forward until I'm just inches from her legs. “How big my hands are? How rough they are from years of work?”
I hover my palm just above her calf, close enough that she might feel the heat radiating from my skin.
“Are you imagining what they'd feel like touching your soft skin? Kneading the tension from your calves after a long shift on your feet? These hands have built empires. They’ve broken men, and they’d worship you if you let them.”
