Page 55 of Played
In a move he won’t realize has done wonders for his future health, the guy talking to Mason is already walking away by thetime I reach him. Mason blinks at me, as shocked as I am to find me in a place like this.
“Who the fuck is that asshole?” I jerk my head in the direction of the guy now headed toward the bathroom.
The smug bastard has the fucking nerve to grin at me. He knows exactly how pissed I am to see him with his hands on some other guy. “First of all, that’s none of your fucking business, Hotshot. And second, he’s not an asshole. His name is Dax, and he’s actually very sweet. Not to mention hot, funny.” He leans closer, his lips resting dangerously close to my ear. “Submissive. You know the type, right?”
Yes, I know the fucking type. I want Mason to be that type—for me. Only for me. I want every single part of him for myself. What the fuck is wrong with me?
“I think the more appropriate question is what are you doing in here? Aren’t you worried someone might see you in here with all of us gays? They might start doing some math and realize you’re not who you say you are.” He’s goading me, and I’m a heartbeat away from pinning him to this bar and showing every person here exactly who I am, not to mention exactly who he belongs to.
His dark eyes sparkle with mischief and sin. Mason James is trouble, and I can’t seem to stay the fuck away from him. “I came looking for you.” I glance in the direction of the bathroom. “Wanted to make sure you didn’t get yourself into any trouble.”
His brows knit in a frown. “Your concern for my wellbeing might be touching if you weren’t such a massive jackass. How did you even know I was here?”
I’m pretty sure telling him I track his phone will earn me that mojito he’s holding thrown in my face, so I simply shrug and tell him I have means.
“Well, however you found out, I don’t give a fuck. Go do your thing and stay the hell away from me.”
If only I fucking could. All of this would be a whole lot easier.
Maybe it’s the four shots of Scotch I had before I left home. Maybe it’s the thought of him with anyone else. Or maybe it’s the fact that fucking Mason James is currently occupying all top ten spots in my usually diverse highlight reel that makes me say “Take me home with you.”
His laugh, deep and sexy, has my dick stiffening in my jeans. When he’s done, he blinks at me again. “You’re fucking serious?”
Don’t I look fucking serious? I lick my lips and count to ten, determined to avoid starting an argument and causing a scene right here at the bar. “Deadly.”
“I told you last time we hooked up, King, that the only way it would happen again…” His eyes sparkle as they bore into mine, and he doesn’t finish the sentence. He doesn’t have to. We both know what he told me. I recall with startling clarity every word he said—and how many times since that night I’ve considered taking him up on his offer.
I grab his hip, fingers digging into his taut muscle as I pull him closer. He doesn’t resist. His wickedly sinful lips twitch at the corners as he goes on staring at me. Taunting me. Jesus Christ, I could fuck him right where he stands. “You’ll have a much better time with me than with Dax, and you fucking know it.” I lean closer, inhaling his intoxicating, masculine scent. My mouth dusts along his jawbone to his ear. “You know that nobody will fuck you better than I can, Playboy.”
“Maybe.” His voice drops an octave. “But I’m not looking to be fucked tonight, asshole. So you’re fresh out of luck.”
Stubborn little shit. My cock is hard. My mouth is watering. I’m in a club full of hot, willing bodies. I could go home with plenty of the other guys in here, but I only want Mason. I want him more than anything I’ve ever wanted in my life. Enough to…
“The line was crazy.” Dax suddenly appears at Mason’s side. His face is lit up by a smile. Tall and muscular, ripped jeans,tattoos, a hint of stubble. Yeah, I know the type. I see why Mason is attracted to him. He’s not my type though. Although it seems my type has become incredibly limited of late and consists only of the arrogant, smug-as-fuck billionaire playboy standing in front of me.
“You ready to go?” Dax asks hopefully, smiling into Mason’s handsome face and casually resting a hand on his shoulder.
The fuck he is. Dax is going to have that hand ripped off and shoved up his ass if he touches what’s mine again. “He’s here with me,” I say, snarling.
Dax flinches and takes a step back. Mason glares at me. “What the fuck, King?”
“Hey, he told me he was free. I didn’t know I was interrupting something here,” Dax says, waving his hands between us.
“Well, you fucking are,” I growl.
“No, you’re not,” Mason snaps.
Dax shifts from one foot to the other, sizing me up and no doubt wondering whether the man we’re both hoping to take home tonight is worth the effort. He most definitely is worth the effort, but Dax here will never know that. “Fuck off, Dax,” I say, but my eyes are now firmly fixed on Mason’s scowling face.
Mason’s lip twitches in the hint of a snarl, his deep-brown eyes flickering with anger. All of his attention is on me, exactly how I like it. Fuck, I love provoking this kind of reaction from him. What the hell is wrong with me?
“Yeah, I think I’m gonna leave you both to do… whatever it is you’re doing,” Dax announces before he wanders off and disappears into the crowd.
He can find some other willing body to go home with tonight. Mason is leaving with me.
“You’re such a fucking asshole,” he says, nostrils flaring. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
I’m still burning up with jealousy. Still irrationally pissed that the man I can’t have—the same man I rejected all those years ago—is looking to get his rocks off with someone else. “You seriously want to go home with that guy when I’m standing right fucking here practically begging you to take me home?”
