Page 13 of Mason
With a sigh, I undo the button of my cutoff shorts and unzip before I glance at my phone for a time check, then shimmy out of them, letting them drop to the hardwood floor. Just as I peel my crop top over my head, I make eye contact with Mason.
The breath punches from my lungs as I pull the shirt in front of my breasts, staring at him through the glass-paned door. This guy, he doesn’t have any fucks to give. He’s leaning back against the rail of the balcony, jerking off… while watching me undress.
His jeans are unzipped and pulled low enough on his slim hips to set his cock free. He’s shirtless, and his dick, oh god, it’s long and thick. I’m finding it hard to think, and even harder to look away, so far into a daze I can’t do anything but watch the firm, lazy strokes of his hand. My eyeballs ping everywhere, and it’s not until his eyes drift downward, and his tongue slips out to slick over his full lip that I’m shocked back into awareness. I stand no more than six feet from him, and I’m in the skimpiest underwear and bra set that I own. It consists of mere scraps of nude lace. It’d been a birthday gift to myself when I turned eighteen, purchased with my own hard-earned money. I’m well aware of what he’s seeing because I’d blushed hard the first time I put the set on and looked in the mirror. It’s as if I’m wearing nothing at all. I hadn’t bought the set for a boyfriend or anything like that. But now, for all intents and purposes, Mason is seeing me naked.
My hands reflexively clench the fabric of my shirt, fingers twisting it into a little ball. I’ve rendered it useless at hiding any part of me. This shouldn’t be turning me on, but it is. My nipples become stiff peaks, and I have no doubt that he knows he’s affecting me. His eyes pin me in place, the intense gaze scorching my skin.
Catching my lip between my teeth, I slowly stride closer, because, dammit, if he’s been watching me, then I’ll watch him, too. Swallowing hard, I take the final step, putting one palm on the glass, leaning forward. God, he’s hot. Should he be outside my bedroom on the balcony we share with his dick out? No. Probably not. But fuck, the way he slides his hand up and down his erection, twisting ever so slightly when he reaches the crown, the way the veins in his forearm bulge, and the way he swipes his thumb over the slit, collecting pre-cum and smearing it on his dick before continuing… It’s all so heady. He’s a gorgeous specimen of a man.
My chest heaves as I struggle to control my body’s reaction, because I so badly want to rock my hips toward him. And I do. Once, twice, ever so slowly.
The bastard winks at me, his head falling back a bit, lips parting, and his movements come faster now, fist shuttling over his cock. His tongue slicks along his lower lip in a way I can only describe as obscene. It’s fire. He eyes me with filthy intent as he reaches down and cups his balls.
My breath catches in my throat when he begins to tug on them. His face as he approaches orgasm is one of rapture. Of need. Of insanity.
I could go on watching him forever, but only a moment later, a grunt of satisfaction spills from his lips as cum erupts over his hand. He slowly strokes himself through his release, his hips rocking. Anyone who is outside definitely heard that. He doesn’t care, that’s for damn sure.
After another few seconds, he tips his chin in my direction, shows me two fingers, then points them directly at my panty-covered crotch, moving them in a way that suggests what I should do. One of his brows arches in question— No that’s not it… he’s fuckingdaringme.Fuck! Why can’t I rip my stupid freaking eyeballs away?
I can’t escape, he’s got me under some sort of seductive spell. Taking a deep breath, I slam my eyes shut.
And when I finally get up the nerve to meet his sinful eyes again, he’s gone.
EIGHT
LENNON
As we’re headingout the door to go to the party, Mason bumps into me on the steps, and I swear, he does it on purpose. Teetering in my heeled sandals, he grasps my elbow as if he’s trying to steady me, but I understand his true intention when he whispers, "You made the right choice. The skirt is a way better option than the shorts.” His eyes dip to my chest. “And I like the top. A lot.”
It’s a not-so-subtle reminder that he observed my race around my room as I attempted to find an outfit that would be good enough to go out in. He watched me strip out of my clothes. More than once. I probably bent over and showed him my ass in this thong too many times to count.
I’m dying to know which came first—my unintentional striptease or his jerk-off session. It doesn’t even fucking matter, though the idea that he saw me and couldn’t help but whip out his dick and play a little five-on-one is a tiny bit gratifying.
And how the hell do I set aside that the dude freaked the fuck out on me early this morning? How? I don’t know, but his odd shifts in behavior have me genuinely perplexed.
We gather along the sides of two black SUVs that they’ve pulled up to the front of the house. From the looks of it, not everyone is going out tonight, just the upperclassmen. And me. That’s not nerve-racking at all. Tucker and Warren climb into the front vehicle and take off. I’d overheard Warren say they’re stopping to pick up his girlfriend, Maria, on the way to wherever we’re going. No one has given me any details, so I’m flying blind.
Duke pops open the door to the front passenger seat and gets in, oblivious to the anxiety swiftly rising in me, clawing at my chest. I’m good with people. I really am. It’s fear of the unknown that gets me every time. I’ll be fine. I simply have to keep telling myself that. And then we’ll be in the moment, and I’ll have forgotten whatever made me anxious in the first place.
Bear stops beside me, tucking his knuckle beneath my chin and lifting my face to his after he quickly glances at Mason. “If I drive, are you okay to sit in the back?” The remainder of his question is loud and clear.With him?
From the way he’s studying me, I bet he thinks the look of mild panic on my face has more to do with Mason and less to do with the party. With multiple encounters in the last day, it makes sense that I’d be wary—and no one knows about that last one. I’m unwilling to share that I witnessed Mason treating his dick like his favorite play toy. Or have to explain how the hot, hot looks he’d given me had made me feel. The molten desire in his hooded eyes, the tightening of his jaw, the thrust of his hips…
Shit.
Mason gives Bear a dirty look and flips him off. “I’ll fuckin’ behave.”
Bear stops, and I can totally tell his teeth are grinding by the way the muscles work at the back of his jaw. “Don’t be an ass.”
“Stop trying to be my dad.”
Bear heaves out a breath, running a hand through his hair. “For fuck’s sake.”
“He’d be a better dad than the one who’s in prison,” Duke grits from inside the SUV.
This conversation has taken an odd turn, and it only reminds me how well these guys know each other—and also how they’re too willing to use it against each other. On information overload, my brows shoot up, and I hold up my hands in surrender, taking a step away from both of them. “I’m fine wherever. Just tell me where you want me.”
There’s an odd nonverbal exchange between Mason and Bear before the big guy finally exhales hard and gestures to the door beside me. “Behind Duke is good.” Without another glance at Mason, Bear circles the vehicle to the driver’s seat.
