Page 29 of Gin and Lava

Her eyes narrow, before settling on me kindly.

“That’s sweet.”

“Hey,” I shrug, “I’m just trying to see if sweet gets me fucked again.”

“It doesn’t.”

“Well, you also spent the night telling methiswasn’t going to happen,” I say, pointing between us. “So, I don’t know if I believe you anymore when you say things like that.”

She gives me a look that saysdon’t push it,and I lift my hands up like I’m not a threat.

“Don’t worry, Princess,” I say quickly, collecting my shirt and coat. “I know the etiquette. I just wanted to know where you stood on talking about it.”

“I’m not going to pretend it didn’t happen,” Naomi says. “If that’s what you’re asking.”

“Awwww,” I mock. “That’s sweet.”

She smirks as I open the door.

“I’m not going to lie about it, Mason,” she says. “But I’m not the type to kiss and tell.”

“But youarethe type to fuck and tell, right?”

“Do you need me to post a review for you on Instagram?”

“Yes!” I say jokingly. “No one’s going to believe I have a huge cock unless someone respectable starts vouching for it.” Her eyes flick to my slacks and I can’t help but smile and make aMmmmm hmmmmsound.

“Classy,” she deadpans, looking back up at me.

“With a capital K, Naomi. You’ve been to the Gin n’ Lava before. I’m the King of Kitsch.”

“And dirty drink names.”

“Hey, I told you, I’m always advertising.” I step out of her huge monster truck, clutching my shirt and coat. “Women just seem to think they want chocolates and flowers and romance instead of a hot fuck.”

“Not all women,” Naomi defends, a wry smile hooking her cheek, even though deep down she’s always going to be the roses and diamonds type.

“Yes, but I still didn’t get to taste your pussy,” I say, giving her a suggestive eyebrow.

“Really?” She laughs. “Riding your cock wasn’t enough?”

“Naomi …” I shake my head with a tsk-tsk noise. “You fuck a guy the way you just did, you’d better expect he hasn’t had enough.”

“Ha ha,” she tosses back. “I’m sure you say that to everyone, Mason.”

“All I’m saying is call me next time you need a wedding date,” I say, stepping backwards as I hold my shirt and coat against my bare chest.

“I’d only do that for the hot after-reception sex,” she says. “You realize that, right?”

“Buy a guy a drink first, Naomi,” I taunt. “Plus, now you know champagne goes straight to my head.”

“Maybe if you bought a shirt without penises on it, you’d have a chance.”

“I am who I am.” I shrug. “And seriously, watch your mixed messages, Tate. Am I supposed to advertise the cock or not? Which one do you want.”

She smiles at me and shakes her head. “Goodnight, Mason.”

“Seriously, you can be my date to every wedding I go to,” I say. “Though in actuality, it’ll probably be years before the rest of that gang ties the knot, so … you might not hear from me for a while. But next wedding, your invite or mine, you know at least my cock can stand up to several bottles of wine, and I won’t leave you unsatisfied.”

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