tugs on my hand, pulling me out of my wandering thoughts. “Let’s go get you the biggest coffee Espresso Patronum has to offer, and then…I have something to show you.”
“I told you…I’m too tired for sex. I don’t care how pretty your cock is—I don’t want to see it right now.” My feet drag along the floor as I reluctantly let him lead me from my childhood bedroom.
“You know I love it when you say cock,” he whispers naughtily in my ear, “but no guy wants to hear his manhood referred to as pretty.”
“But it is.” I pout because it’s true. Dicks in general aren’t necessarily pretty, but his certainly is. It’s long and straight, so girthy my fingers don’t touch when I wrap them around it. He keeps everything trimmed up nicely, and I get to appreciate the whole…package—pun definitely intended—when I’m eye level with the disco stick.
“Still…” He kisses the soft spot behind my ear. “Not pretty.”
“Fine,” I whine with a huff. I’m tired and cranky—so sue me. “What should I call it then?” Sarcasm drips from my words.
“Glorious. Perfect. Hung like a horse. Too much to handle, to name a few.”
No surprise, my eyes roll. “God you’re full of yourself.”
He pulls me in front of him, his arms looping around me. “Only when you’re not full of me.”
I swear he’s incorrigible.
“Come on.” He nudges the backs of my legs with the fronts of his, guiding me toward the front door. “Let’s get you caffeinated so we can go on our field trip.”
“Ugh.”
“Don’t ugh me,” he playfully scolds. “Hop to it, Skittles.”
Unaffected by the major side-eye I’m throwing his way, he places a kiss on the top of my head, effectively rendering me willing to do whatever he wants, and leads me out to the Shelby.
True to his word, a few minutes later, he pulls into a free spot in front of my favorite coffee shop. After indulging in Lyle, the owner’s, flagrant flirting, Mase orders me the largest red velvet iced coffee on the menu and a more reasonable medium cold brew for himself.
As we make the familiar trek toward school, I figure whatever he has to show me is on campus. I’m very confused when he pulls into the underground garage of a luxury high-rise only a few miles from the U of J. I send him a questioning look as he shifts the Shelby into park and continues to ignore it as he walks around the hood of the car to open my door. My confusion only grows as I take in all the familiar cars parked around ours.
No matter how hard I try to get answers out of him, he remains silent, stepping into an elevator, and with a wave of a plastic keycard, the lift starts to rise. His reflection staring back at me in the stainless steel doors gives nothing away.
When the elevator comes to a stop and the doors slide open, it’s not a lobby or hallway like I would expect on the other side. No, instead we step right into an apartment—a beautifully decorated one from the looks of it.
When my feet remain rooted where they are, Mase links his hand with mine, his thumb stroking across my knuckles as he leads me out of the elevator and through the small foyer to where the space opens up into a large great room.
A large light gray sectional, with what looks like enough seating for twelve, takes up the majority of the space and faces a wall with an eighty-inch flat-screen and a long rectangular gas fireplace. A plush black and white chevron-patterned area rug fills the floor, and a massive dark wood square coffee table sits atop it. The whole space should come off as staged and cold, but the grayscale throw pillows and a few pops of red help make it feel homey instead.
Beyond the couch, closer to the wall of floor-to-ceiling glass, is a separate seating area made up of black leather club chairs and a small glass-topped table.
I keep expecting someone to come out and greet us, but no one does. Instead, I blindly follow Mase as he pulls me toward that wall of glass and out onto a large balcony through a door I didn’t even see a handle for.
When we step outside, I’m stunned speechless, and it’s not because of the wide Trex planks that run the entire width of the apartment or the house hunter’s dream outdoor space. Nope, the honor goes to the