Page 11 of Scary In Love
“Are you serious? Mine is the 12th, but I’m two years older. Happy birthday for last month.”
This man has no business being this cute with fake blood on his face. With blue eyes and messy hair, he’s one of those people who smiles with his entire face, so you feel like the sun is shining right on you. Even with the gruesome effects, I can’t look away, though I’d love to see what he looks like without his makeup, too.
He fires through the questions about my address and contact information, then slips a pocket watch from his waistcoat and notes down the time.
“Can you tell me what happened in as much detail as possible? I’d love to make sure nothing like this happens again.”
He nods along, scribbling down the relevant details as I recount the events of the past thirty minutes.
“I can’t believe your date ran off and left you alone in a haunted house.”
I can’t contain the snort that escapes me.
“It’s fine. I don’t think we were a good match, anyway. I’m a big horror girlie. It takes a lot to scare me, and he was trembling before we even set foot inside.”
“What a pussy,” he mutters, tapping his pen against the side of the clipboard.
“I don’t like that,” I tell him, and his gaze snaps up to mine.
I’m no stranger to calling people out on inappropriate or outdated language. I do it all the time at work. Just because our residents are old, it doesn’t mean they can’t learn to do better. And that applies to all of us.
“My apologies. That language was unprofessional. Forgive me.”
“I’m not offended by your language, I’m offended by the sentiment. People use‘pussy’like it’s a weak thing. Everyone knows balls are way more sensitive, and pussies can take a good pounding any day of the week. And in this case, my date was one hundred percent testicle.”
His eyebrows inch higher and higher, and I smile sweetly, quite content with my paraphrased little rant.
“Well, thank you for calling me out on it. I will remove that word from my lexicon.”
A laugh bursts out of me, and I shake my head. “Oh, no. You can definitely still say pussy in other appropriate contexts.”
“And, uh, what are the appropriate contexts?” he asks.
The air stills as his eyes linger on mine, challenging me to elaborate. My pulse rises, but there’s no way on earth I’m looking away first.
“Like in the bedroom.”
“Dirty talk?”
“Sure,” I shrug.
Mason inhales deeply, his gaze dipping to my mouth. He sets his clipboard down and leans back against the desk, arms folded across his chest, those rolled-up sleeves straining against corded forearms.
“Care to give me an example?”
Damn, this man is a good flirt, but so am I, when given the opportunity.
“You just used lexicon in a sentence without batting an eyelid. I’m pretty sure you could come up with something.”
“Like if I said, I’m gonna die if I don’t taste your pussy in the next thirty seconds?” he asks without missing a beat. “Would that be appropriate? Contextually speaking.”
My jaw drops. His eyes flick down to the hem of my skirt, and heat floods my core. Between the ice on my skin and the gravelly way‘pussy’sounds coming from his mouth, I’m more than a little flustered.
I swallow hard while he waits for my answer.
“Yes. That would be an appropriate thing to say. Contextually speaking.”
“Good to know.”
