More Than Lies (More Than #1)(11)

“Don’t I get a name?” She cocks her head to the side and lifts an eyebrow.

“Shawn.” It’s a simple reply and all she needs to know. I glance down to her right hand noticing the stamp indicating she is at least twenty-one. This is an eighteen and up club, and although eighteen is technically legal, I don’t sleep with teenagers. The hand stamp means she’s fair game.

“Sexy name on a sexy guy.” Her dark, brown eyes glide slowly down my torso before rising and meeting mine again. This is too easy. I could take her to one of the bathrooms and be done with her within minutes and onto the next chick, but before I can make the suggestion, a body bumps into me from behind followed by a strong arm wrapping around my shoulders.

“Hey, bro, who is this sweet little thing?” I roll my head to see Mason making the same suggestive eye motions Misty was throwing me a few moments ago. When I look back in her direction, the corners of her lips have lifted high. She likes the attention. And hell, it’s been a good long while since Mason and I have tag teamed a girl. This could be fun. More fun than the five-minute fuck I had planned on giving her.

“Misty, this is Mason.” Now, where to take this party? The bathroom is still an option. My house is not. I don’t fuck in my bed. It’s for me and me alone. Bitches don’t make it that far.

“You, sweet thing, are real cute.” He scoots closer toward her. “Why don’t you let me in on the fun, too?” Good, he and I are on the same page. We usually are. Mason doesn’t care for anything long-term either. Unlike me though, he doesn’t mind a bedmate from time to time, as long as they remember up front that it’s only for one night.

Mason leans in closer to her ear and whispers something out of earshot.

“I’m down,” she singsongs.

“Hey!” The sound of Tara’s voice draws my attention away from the brunette to her. “Where’s my beer?” I glance over at her glaring at Mason with her arm crossed tightly in front of her chest. Her chest that is very much on display and very much un-Tara-like. Had I not clearly heard her voice, I might have done a double take.

“Sorry, I got a little side tracked.” Mason laughs and smiles back at Misty. Tara glances at her, then rolls her eyes seeing exactly what distracted him. When I take in her appearance from head to toe, I see no reason why she should be giving Misty an eye roll when she herself is under-dressed. Tara’s honeysuckle blonde waves are hanging loosely below her shoulders. She is wearing a strapless, extremely short black dress that is snug around every curve. And in those black heels, Tara is standing damn near my own six-foot two-inch height.

Fuck, I’m pretty sure I’m getting hard just from looking at her. If there was any blood left in my head, I’d have adjusted my crotch by now.

“You suck, Mason,” she huffs and brushes past him to the bar. The bartender hurries over, ogling her tits while asking her what he can get her to drink. She blushes once she realizes his focus is on her ample cleavage rather than her face. She may be dressed that way, but Tara is anything but confident. She has been socially awkward since we were kids and is extremely shy. It takes her a while to warm up to people. Once she does, though, her timid personality vanishes.

“So are we doing this, or not?” Mason’s voice booms over the noise.

“Oh, we are doing this. See ya, Tara.” I place my empty beer bottle on top of the bar and grabbed the brunette by her wrist, pulling her off her stool and out of the bar without looking behind me. It’s going to be damn near impossible to drown out the sight of Tara’s body in that dress. Doesn’t mean I’m not going to try. “Where is your place, Misty?”

“How about we go to yours?”

“How about we not.” Before I’m able to finish telling her why we are going to her place and not ours, Mason chimes in.

“Sweet thing, tonight is about having a fun time, but that’s all it is and it’ll only happen this one time. Are you okay with that?” Mason stops her, making her turn to face him as he waits for an answer.

“I can handle that.”

“Good. Now like my friend asked, where’s your place?” He drapes his arm across her shoulders, pulling her closer to him as she relays her address to me, which isn’t far from here at all. We all pile into my truck and head to her apartment. After a five-minute drive, we arrive and enter a small one-bedroom apartment, from what I can tell upon my first glance around the living room.

Small hands come up around me from behind before Misty comes around to my front. She moves her hands up to my shoulders and then goes to stand onto her tiptoes to lean in for a kiss on my lips. That’s not going to happen. I grasp her brown hair at the nape of her neck, halting Misty an inch before she reaches my mouth. “I got something you can kiss, but it’s not my mouth, darlin’.”

Mason pulls her into him and away from me. “Yeah, well I got lips that need to meet hers before her mouth lands on your dick, brother.” He falls down onto her couch, bringing her with him where he immediately seeks out her lips. This is where Mason and I differ. He loves foreplay, and lots of it. I only want the end result. The faster I get there, the better it is for me.

“Where’s your alcohol?” I ask as I head in the direction of what looks to be a small kitchen. When I enter the small space, it is in fact tiny. The room is a galley layout that you would find in your typical apartment.