Page 20 of Mase
“Yeah?” A soft voice moves from beneath the bedsheets, and when her head springs up, my eyes widen.
Her mouth falls open.
My jaw drops.
Her cheeks redden.
My body pales.
She drops the sheet, exposing her bra-clad tits.
Holy.
Fucking.
Shit.
I close my eyes, then snap them open just as quickly.
Her eyes bulge.
I shake my head.
No. Oh, God, no.
She looks seconds away from passing out.
Please, no.
What the hell? I mouth.
Another head springs up from below the sheets, and all the disappointment that was there moments ago dissipates into unadulterated fury.
The guy’s eyes dart from me to Summer.
My hands ball into tight fists.
“What the fuck is happening?” I snarl out, asking no one in particular.
“You’re here,” she squeaks, still wearing a stunned expression. “You’re here. In my bedroom.”
“You’re in my fucking house!” I fume, jabbing my finger in her direction. “What the fuck are you doing here?”
Those baby blues of hers become wider somehow. “Your house?”
“Mine!” I snap. Every muscle in my body contracts to the point of pain.
“Oh, shit,” the prick replies. Her eyes jump from the dumbass in the bed to me. “Y-You’re Mason?”
“Damn fucking right I am!” I fume.
“You’re Mase. Jeff’s son?” she asks, but it’s clear she’s only confirming what she already knows. “Oh my God! You’re my stepbrother!”
“Are you going to tell me what’s happening?” the punk beneath her asks, and it’s only now I register he’s without a shirt. I’m seconds away from tearing him apart, and judging by the way he blanches, he realizes it too.
I’ve never been a jealous man, not at all, but the idea of her in bed with this asshole has me wanting to slaughter him, slowly, and something tells me he can see exactly what I’m thinking because the little punk springs up out of sheets.
“Maybe I should go.” He scrambles out of the bed, and I’m grateful for his sake he at least has jeans on. He trips as he shoves his feet into sneakers and pulls a hoodie over his head while my eyes remain glued on the piece of shit.
