So, uhm. Just so you know, you're lucky I submit to peer pressure quite easily. Happy third update of the day *smirks*
Grab a lemonade, citrus preferably.

This meeting is a fucking mistake. I can't hear any more rubbish sob stories coming from suburban moms who can't go a day without their glass of Pinot Grigio. I fight the urge to groan and keep my eyes fixated on the back of the chair in front of me. The person sitting there wears an obnoxiously brightly colored tunic in shades of blue and mustard yellow with petrol blue pants. I'm on the verge of running off when I see Masen shift in his chair next to me.

He's got one arm over the back of the folded chair next to him. I can hear the leather of his jacket squeak every time he moves, and it's driving me borderline insane. I whip my head in his direction with a scowl on my face. He's looking right at Debra, the woman on the verge of tears as she discusses her heartache over not being able to go to her girlfriend's wine tasting nights anymore. I feel my scowl disappear as I look at him — truly look. Masen's face is a fucking work of art, with sharp lines and edges exactly where they should be. His chest moves up and down steadily, relaxed breathing I bet feels really nice when you've got your cheek pressed up against.

"You're staring." I glance away, caught red-handed.

"So?"

"That's rather dangerous, Doe." he side-eyes me and wets his bottom lip, the black ball of his tongue piercing coming into view.

"What?" I frown.

He smiles wickedly and turns away, head shaking.

"I suppose you should pay attention to these people and their stories. Isn't that why you're here?" He asks.

"No."

"Bullshit, you came here all by yourself the other day."

"I wasn't going to come back," I say, squirming in my seat. I'm unable to sit still and endure this.

"Why not?"

"Because I don't want to keep being reminded of my fucking flaws."

"Everyone's got flaws, Doe. But then why did you come here in the first place?"

"Why did you?" I throw at him. He seems to be surprised, doesn't quite know what to say.

"Ugh, baby. Again with the inquisition?" He looks at me and turns his body my way. We're keeping our voices down, but I don't want anyone to hear what we're talking about. It's not anyone's business. I try to ignore the way my insides flutter when he calls me that.

"Wanna get out of here?" I ask him, putting my hand on his thigh. I feel his muscles contract at my touch and he smiles in my favorite way.

"I thought you'd never ask."

"Hey, Derek?" He suddenly stands and draws attention to himself. I feel mortified when everyone turns around. "Bella isn't feeling so well. I'm gonna take her home, okay?"

"Uh, sure. Take care, Bella."

"Just go with it, Doe." He slings my arm around his neck and puts his around my waist. My breathing hitches as I feel his fingers at the curved edge of the underwire in my bra. I'm sure I look all sorts of hot and bothered, so Derek will surely believe us.

I giggle as we walk out the door, and Masen closes the door behind us. Instead of letting me go, he pressed me against the wall — vivid green eyes keeping me in place as my smile fades.

"Just go with it, Summer Child," I whisper confidently before my fingers laced together behind his neck, thumbs stroking the short shaved hairs there.

"Might as well," he chuckles, his lips crashing on mine.

His hands are on my hips, sliding up my sides until he's feeling me up and brings one hand back down to my ass. He pulls me against him, his kiss passionate and so fucking good. Our tongues meet as he palms my tit, and I shamelessly moan into his mouth.

Masen's lips make their way lower, licking the sensitive spot in my neck that makes my knees buckle and cling to him.

"Let's go back to my room. I don't want to defile you in public." He mutters, voice rough and sexy, and I don't want him to stop.

"Fuck, you're a buzzkill. Stop talking." I push and turn, forcing his back against the window next to us. If someone were to walk by now, they'd catch us — but I don't care. It's hot and devious and oh so deliciously dangerous. I can't stop now. I just can't. I don't want to.

I pull the longer tresses of his hair and hear him groan, the sound going straight through me. My eyes roll back in my head when I feel him pull me into him, my lower stomach meeting his rock-hard cock. I'm so wet, so hot, I don't think straight.

"Doe, please." He grunts when my hand goes down to his belt, and my eyes meet his. It's my turn to give him a devious smile. He gives me a certain look that dares me, but if he thinks I won't suck his dick right now, he's mistaken.

"What? You don't want me to? Don't you want to feel how hot, wet my mouth is, Masen? Don't you want to pull me by the hair and shoot your cum down my throat?" I pur. He's completely dumbfounded and right now I think I'm turning myself on just as much as I do to him.

"Fuck, you're dirty, aren't you?" He asks me, one finger underneath my chin, forcing me to look him in the eye.

"So?" I unbuckle and succeed, letting the big, silver 'H' swing loosely around his thigh. I stare at him until he lets his head fall back against the window and surrenders.

"You better get on your fucking knees now, baby. Because right now, I don't know what I'll do if you stop." His voice is strained as I palm his erection through thick denim. I undo four ridiculous buttons, there's no zipper. Masen's wearing black boxers with grey palm trees on them. It makes me grin.

"Shut up, Miami." I laugh and sink down to my knees.

"Is your dirty little mouth good for anything besides talking trash?" He asks me, caressing my hair, tugging my ponytail a little. I smirk up at him but say nothing. Instead, I lower his boxers and watch him. He's fucking big, thick, and makes my mouth water. He's got a tattoo right above his cock, but a light dusting of pubic hair covers it.

"Oh my God, seriously?" I ask. He just starts laughing. He knows what I'm talking about.

"My friend's a tattoo artist. He set me up big time with that one, totally fooled me. But I mean it, Doe." His wink does all things to my insides as I read the letters again.

'thank you'.

"You're fucking welcome," I say before I lick him from shaft to tip, his grip tightening on my ponytail.

We're still on board?

See you tomorrow *mwah!*