Total pages in book: 31
Estimated words: 29738 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 149(@200wpm)___ 119(@250wpm)___ 99(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 29738 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 149(@200wpm)___ 119(@250wpm)___ 99(@300wpm)
…Next to Mason. Gorgeous, twenty-one-year-old, incendiarily hot, inappropriate, pure brawn and muscle, and apparently hung like a fucking horse Mason Dunn.
The boy next door grew the fuck up, and now here I am running my fingers over my dripping wet pussy thinking about his dick.
I’ve been back in LA for less than forty-eight hours, and last night was the first time I realized what I could see if his blinds were open. I stood there in the dark, leaning against the glass shower door with my hand between my legs. It might be shameful, but what happened, happened. I touched myself, and I came watching Mason jerk off.
My eyes squeeze shut, and my hand finds the volume to my earbuds. I turn it up, and the sexy pulsing beat of a Halsey song pumps into my ears. My body arches, and I moan as my fingers push down between my slick, sticky pussy lips. I grind my fingertip against my clit, and I imagine it’s Mason just teasing me with that big fucking—
A shadow blots out the sun for a second, and I startle. I open my eyes, and suddenly, I fucking scream.
I swear I must jump four straight feet in the air scrambling out of the pool chair. I yank my hand from my bikini and my stomach knots. My heart feels like it’s in my throat, and every single part of me wants to just melt into a puddle and soak into the ground to escape this moment.
The man is shadowed with the sun behind him, but I can tell from his silhouette that he’s huge, and muscled. He’s shirtless, too, and I can see the hot sun glowing over the tan, bronzed skin of his shoulders. Panic grips me, and I’m about to scream again when I realize that he’s holding what looks like a huge vacuum cleaner with a long, thick hose over his shoulder.
Fuck. Me. Sideways.
I’ve been so busy fantasizing about Mason and his big dick with my headphones in, touching myself, that I’ve somehow utterly forgotten about the appointment I made for the pool company to come for a cleaning. I cringe so fucking hard, and I try and tell myself that there’s no way he really saw anything, but I know that’s a really, really shitty lie.
He definitely saw. I just pray to God that he’s professional enough to pretend he didn’t.
I groan and reach up to yank my earbuds out. “Hi. Jesus, you scared the shit out of me!” I peer at the man, but with the sun right behind his head, I have to squint, and all I can see is shadow.
The guy says nothing, and just stands there. I swallow.
“You know, I have a doorbell,” I mutter slightly indignantly.
“Which I rang about forty times.”
I freeze.
No. No. No no no no no.
My core tightens, and something between embarrassment and dread sinks over me. The pool guy steps forward, and suddenly, he’s out of the glare, and it’s so much worse than having just been caught touching myself by the pool guy. Because suddenly, I’m looking right up into the smug, smirking, completely gorgeous face of Mason fucking Dunn.
Mason who’s twenty-one and lives next door.
Mason who looks like a fucking Abercrombie model now.
Mason who I watched jerk off until he spilled his cum all over his hand and his sex-god abs.
Mason who just totally walked in on me with my hand in my bikini bottoms.
Fuck.
Chapter Two
Mason
“Mason!”
I frown and bury my head into the pillow to try and drown out the sound of my mother’s voice.
“MASON!”
Yeah, a pillow isn’t going to fucking cut it. I’d need four feet of reinforced concrete to get away from her voice when she’s in a mood like she clearly is this morning.
“Get up, Mason! You’re the one that decided you wanted to work blue collar all summer, so up and at ‘em!” She screeches. “You know it’s laziness like this that probably got you into trouble in the first place!”
I scowl. There are probably worse ways of being woken up in the morning, but my mother screaming at me and calling me a screw up is definitely climbing the charts.
“I’m up, Jesus,” I grunt. I slide my legs over the edge and plant my feet on the hardwood floor. I rub the grit from my eyes and groan when I glance at the time. Fuck. She’s not wrong, I do need to get up. But shit, it feels like I just went to sleep. Well, I didn’t just, but it’s not that much of an exaggeration. I was up most of the night recoding some of my algorithm and ironing out more bugs on the proof-of-concept site I’ve got up and running. Slowly, a smile crosses my face, and I grin.
Well, that’s not all of why I was up so late.