The Pool Boy: Boys of Summer, #1 Page 4

  I don’t know what sort of horny crazy just took over there, but that was insane. And wild, and so so good. That was hot as fuck, and I know I should be mortified at what I just did, but I’m not.

  …I’m buzzing. Buzzing, tingling, and aching for more.

  God help me.

  Chapter Six

  Layla

  I leave the house early the next morning. I know why, too—because I’m trying to dodge Mason before he comes over to get his pool equipment. And it’s all because in the cold light of day, I woke up mortified about what happened last night. Yes, it was hot, and yes, he made me feel so fucking sexy jerking off to me while I touched myself. But sober, and in the daylight, I can’t stop thinking how horribly inappropriate it was.

  I mean for fuck’s sake, he’s twenty-one.

  Yeah, and crazy hot. And achingly tempting. And hung, and growly, and capable of turning me into a fucking puddle with one word.

  I shiver and step into my car and start the engine. The garage doors open, and I pull out and down my driveway. Regardless of Mason’s ability to turn me into a dripping wet horny mess, I’m fairly certain seeing him right now would make me catch on fire with embarrassment.

  I drive the hills, I go for a small hike, and I even hit the beach in Malibu for a little while. Hours later though, I finally slink back home. I park in the garage and exit through the side door into the backyard, and I freeze.

  Oh you’re fucking kidding me.

  All of that, and his shit is still sitting there next to my pool. I sigh and exhale slowly. Okay, this is ridiculous. Last night was stupid and insane and maybe a little embarrassing today, but I’m a grown ass woman. Just like he’s a grown ass man. A very, very grown up man, I think with a blush.

  But regardless, I won’t be shamed out of my own pool.

  I change into a bikini, and I head back outside for a swim. It’s a typically scorching hot summer day in LA, and the water feels divine as I swim some laps. When my muscles are aching, I hang off the side of the pool, panting. I climb out and sink into a lawn chair before I turn over and reach for my phone. I open my reading app and start to page through a mystery I was getting into, but slowly, I can feel my eyelids growing heavier. The warm sun teases my skin, and I slowly let myself start to drift off, face down on the lounger.

  “You should put some sunblock on.”

  I gasp, startling out of my half-sleep. My head whips around, and I blush furiously when I see Mason standing there smirking at me. My cheeks burn hot when I realize I was definitely just daydreaming about him.

  “Mason,” I say shortly.

  “Layla,” he purrs. He winks. At least he’s fucking dressed this time, in shorts and a tank top. “How was your night?”

  My blush deepens, and I bite my lip.

  “Your… uh, your thing is over there.” I nod at the hose attachment that I’ve looped up and set to the side.

  Mason grins. “So nice of you to treat my hose so nicely.”

  I blush again, and I groan before I roll onto my back and sit up. I curl my legs underneath myself and sigh, looking him in the eye. Okay, time to be the grown up here.

  “Look, Mason.”

  “Yes?”

  I swallow. “Last night—”

  “Last night only whet my appetite,” he growls, and I gasp as he steps closer to me, slinking just like a jungle cat.

  “It’s…” I shiver. “It’s not happening again, Mason. Not an appetizer. That was the whole meal.”

  He arches a brow. “I disagree.”

  “Well, sorry,” I say brusquely, trying to keep cool. “Mason, whatever happened yesterday…” I frown. “It’s over, okay? It’s done. Last night is never happening again.”

  “No?” he sighs, grinning. His hand comes up, and he pushes his fingers through his hair, and it takes every bit of my willpower not to stare at his bicep or the way his tank top pulls put to show a glimpse of his abs.

  “Guess you’d better install some better shades, or a shutter on your bathroom window, then,” he grins.

  “Mason—”

  “Because Layla, I just can’t promise that I won’t be there again tonight, in my room, doing the same thing.”

  I shiver heatedly at the mental image of that, and my cheeks burn.

  “Mason, control yourself,” I whisper.

  “I think it’s you that has to control yourself, Layla.” He shrugs with that cocky grin on his face. “I mean, it’s my room, so I think that makes you the peeping tom in this situation.”

  I roll my eyes, resisting the urge to grin back. “Enjoying yourself?”

  “Immensely.”

  I sigh. “Well, there’s your ho—” I frown. “Your cleaning equipment. Goodbye, Mason.”

  He stands there another few seconds, brow arched with that infuriatingly hot and cocky smirk on his face. Then he shrugs, walks over, and grabs the hose. He turns back to me at the backyard gate, and I shiver when his gaze slides over me.

  “See you tonight, Layla,” he growls.

  He shuts the gate behind him, and I don’t realize I’ve been holding my breath until it comes out in a whoosh.

  …What the fuck have I gotten myself into here?

  Later that night, I approach my bathroom hesitantly. His room is dark when I creek into my dark bathroom, and I quickly scurry over to close my blinds. I turn the lights on and take a long, hot shower to clean the chlorine off of me. When I’m done, I step out and dry off before wrapping a towel around myself. I pause, glancing at the blinds over my window, and I bite my lip. Swallowing, I reach over and flick the lights off, and then I step towards the window.

  I push one of the slats of the blinds open, and I peer out. Mason’s room is still dark, and I feel a little of my nervous tension ease up.

  “Little shit was fucking with me,” I mutter. I sigh and open the blinds, when suddenly, his bedroom lights flick on. I gasp and jump back from my window, but I can see him standing there in his, looking right at me with just a towel around his waist.

  “Fucker!” I hiss, blushing in embarrassment. I hug my towel tighter, and I’m about to get the hell out of the bathroom, when my phone rings. It’s Mason, of course.

  “What,” I hiss.

  Mason sighs. “Can I get some privacy, please?”

  I roll my eyes, blushing. “Close your blinds then,” I mutter.

  He sighs. “You know, I would, but they fell down.” His eyes hold mine across the divide between us, and I shiver.

  “Maybe you could come over and help me put them back up,” he growls quietly.

  I bite my lip. “I’m sure your mother would love that.”

  “I could just come over there instead,” he purrs.

  “No,” I whisper. “No, Mason, you’re not coming over here.”

  “Why not?”

  I swallow. “You know why not,” I whisper quietly.

  He grins hungrily. “Well, then we could just do this again.”

  I shiver, raking my teeth over my lip. “Mason—”

  He suddenly lets his towel slip just a little, and I gasp as the base of his thick cock slips into view.

  “Mason,” I hiss, my pulse beating faster and a forbidden desire burning inside of me already. “You seem to think this is a game.”

  He slowly shakes his head. “No, I don’t,” he growls. “A game suggests the outcome is undecided.”

  “And this one is?”

  “Yeah, Layla,” he grunts. “Yeah, it is.”

  I swallow, trembling heatedly and squeezing my thighs together. “And what outcome is that?” I whisper breathlessly.

  “You begging me for my cock.”

  Before my brain can even process the crude and yet completely panty-meltingly hot thing he’s just said to me, Mason drops his towel. My mind goes blank, and my jaw drops when my eyes land on his huge, rock-hard cock. He wraps a hand around his thickness, and when he strokes, I moan.

  “Say yes, Layla. You have no idea how long I’ve fucking wanted
you,” he hisses.

  I whimper, gripping my towel tightly and feeling the heat pool between my legs. “How long?”

  “Longer than you want to know, trust me,” he hisses.

  I moan, my entire body shivering as I watch him stroke his cock.

  “Show me,” he growls lowly.

  “Mason…”

  “Show me,” he growls deeply, making me whimper. And before I know it, I’m doing as he says. I reach up and pull the towel away to let it drop. And then, once again, despite all the chastising I’ve given myself for it today, I’m naked in front of a naked Mason again, showing him everything.

  He groans roughly into the phone. “Fucking hell, Layla,” he hisses. “You’re fucking gorgeous.”

  I moan, stepping closer to the glass, my eyes locked with his and my pulse racing.

  “Touch yourself,” he purrs. “Touch your pussy, Layla. Show me how fucking wet you are for me.”

  With a broken moan, my hand drops between my legs. I run a finger up my lips and part them. I rub my fingertip over my clit, and I shiver as I moan into the phone for him.

  Mason growls and strokes his fat cock, watching me intently. I start to lose myself in it—in letting him see me like this. I can feel myself getting so fucking wet as I shamelessly play with my pussy for him, watching him jerk off for me.

  “Hey, Layla?”

  “Yes?” I moan.

  The lights in his room suddenly shut off, and I hear him snicker into the phone.

  “Oh you asshole!” I gasp, lunging away from the window and grabbing my towel. I yank it around myself, trembling all over from being so close to release. “You little shit!”

  Mason chuckles into the phone. “The game is on, Layla.”

  I scowl. “What?” I hiss. “No! No fucking games!”

  He says nothing, and after a long pause, I roll my eyes at myself and frown.

  “Okay, okay,” I mutter. “What’s the fucking game?”

  Mason chuckles deeply again. “The game of who’s going to break first.”

  “Excuse me?”

  The light clicks on in his room, and now I see that he’s lying in bed. The sheet is over him, but I blush when I see how obscenely tented it is over his throbbing hard cock. I watch the sheet rustle, and I gasp when I realize he’s still jerking his cock under the sheet.

  “Oh fuck,” I breathe out.

  “I’m just going to do my thing,” he purrs into the phone. “But when you decide you’ve had enough?” he chuckles. “Well, you know where to find me.”

  I groan. “You motherfucker.”

  “Sweet dreams, Layla,” he grins. “And don’t forget, you can just say the word that you’re caving first, and I’ll—”

  I hang up and stomp out of the bathroom. But goddamn it, the first thing I do is fall into bed face-first and rub my aching clit until I come screaming his name into the pillows.

  I think I’m in trouble.

  Chapter Seven

  Mason

  “So how’s the pool business.”

  I’m startled for a second by my dad’s gruff voice behind me. I turn around and lean against the kitchen counter and I open the beer I just pulled out of the fridge. My pulse is still hammering in my ears after seeing Layla, again. Teasing her was fun but ending just to push her buttons was hard a fuck to do. All I want to do is march right over there, kick her door in, rip her clothes off, pin her to the bed, and fuck the hell out of her, like I know she needs and wants.

  But instead, I pumped my cock with my hand until I shot my cum across my abs and thighs. Now, twenty minutes and a shower later, I steel myself to get my head chewed off by my dad. My mother might actually be a bad person, deep down in her core. My dad isn’t, but he sure plays the part pretty fucking well.

  “It’s good,” I shrug. “Keeps me busy.”

  “Keeps you distracted from tackling your shit, you mean,” he grunts.

  “Whatever you say, dad.” I roll my eyes and take a sip of my beer.

  “Put that down.”

  I frown and look at him. “Huh?”

  “The beer,” he mutters. “Enough.”

  I stare at him. “Are you serious?”

  “Did I stutter?”

  “Dad, I’m twenty-one. I bought it, for fuck’s sake.”

  He glares at me. “Watch your goddamn mouth. And I don’t care if you bought it or how much of a grown man you think you are. When you get kicked out of goddamn Stanford and move back here, you give up those privileges.”

  I roll my eyes, and he snaps. He storms over and yanks the beer out of my hands. I snarl, and I grab it back before stepping away from him.

  “What the hell is your problem?”

  “My problem?!” he hisses. “My problem is you deciding to throw away your damn future and be a goddamn pool boy!”

  I glare at him. “I didn’t ‘throw away my future,’ dad. I was proving a point, and the university overreacted.”

  “So what now? Just clean pools and mooch off us?”

  I frown. “No, dad, the plan is to work on the algorithm and iron out the bugs, and then I can pitch it to Google or something.”

  He rolls his eyes. “You want to be a big man, Mason? Then grow the hell up and drop the pipe dreams.”

  My jaw grinds tight. “It’s not a pipe dream,” I mutter. “Dad, this thing could change the way people shop online.”

  “Yeah, and I might pick the right lottery numbers tomorrow,” he says sighing heavily. “Here’s what we’re going to do. I’m going to get that dean on the phone again.”

  “No, dad—”

  “I’m going to take out my checkbook, and I’m going to fix this the way things get fixed. We’ll give them a library wing or something. You’ll go back, and you’ll major in pre-law, like we discussed.”

  “It’s not happening.”

  “It goddamn is!” he snaps. “Enough with the computer game crap, Mason! It’s time to grow up! Grow up, become a respectable lawyer just like all the men in our family, and then, you can have that big boy beer, okay?”

  I take a long, slow pull of the beer, looking him in the eyes, and he scowls.

  “That’s your life, dad. This is mine.”

  “No, your life is mine right now. You’re living in my house, under my roof.”

  “Fine, then I’ll move.”

  He snickers. “Good luck with that.” He sighs. “Damnit, Mason, I don’t enjoy being a hard ass like this. But I want what’s best for you.”

  I resist the urge to roll my eyes this time.

  “By this time next week, I want you in a suit and tie, at my offices in the mail room, and I want your letter of apology to that school in my hands. Is that understood?”

  I just hold his eyes. “And if it’s not?”

  “If it’s not, there will be serious consequences, Mason,” he growls. He shakes his head at me. “Don’t push me on this one, son. I will go scorched earth if it means securing you a future.”

  He glares at my beer, turns, and storms out of the kitchen.

  Chapter Eight

  Layla

  Two can play this fucking game.

  I’m buzzing when I wake up the next day. There’s no shame or embarrassment like before. No, this time, I wake up tingling all over, and giddy. I feel excited, and maybe even a little naughty when I think about Mason and his “challenge.” He wants to play games? Well, he’s about to get schooled. He wants to see which of us is going to “break” first?

  I grin as I pour my morning coffee. I’ve got nine years on this guy, not to mention, an extensive collection of sexy lingerie and bikinis. Excitement courses through me as I think it through. Oh, Mason Dunn’s just started a war he’s definitely going to lose, because I’m going to make it my mission to watch him break first.

  I pick up my phone, and I call the pool company again.

  “Yes, hello,” I say to the man who identifies himself as Mickey who answers the phone. “This is Layla Hughes over at nine-thousand-a
nd-eight Canyon Grove Ave.”

  I smile and shake my head when the guy groans and asks “what the kid did”.

  “Oh, no-no, Mason was excellent, and the pool looks fantastic! Well, it’s just that, I think I may have messed up some of the chemicals last night, and it’d be great if he could come back over and check the levels and maybe give it one more clean? No, of course, please do bill me for a second visit.”

  I bite my lip as Mickey checks his calendar, and then I grin wickedly.

  “This morning would be perfect,” I gush. “You can tell him to let himself into the backyard with the gate. Thank you!”

  I hang up, and a shiver of heat teases through me.

  Game. Fucking. On.

  I shower slowly, and I take my time shaving my legs. I slip on the skimpiest, most scandalous bikini I own, grab some iced coffee from my fridge, and head out to the pool. I throw a towel over one of the loungers and lay back in it with my shades on. It’s already hot out here, and it’s barely nine in the morning. I sip my coffee, I grin in anticipation, and I wait.

  For one second, I take a pause and try and ask myself what the hell I think I’m doing. I mean, honestly, what’s the plan here? To toy with him? Or do I want more? I can tell myself that I’m teasing him until he breaks, because I’m competitive like that. But it’s also fun as fuck. It’s wild to tempt this unbridled, hormone-heavy stud, and it’s exciting.

  And God help me, I’m already turned on.

  Barely half an hour later, lying on my stomach reading, I hear the creak of my gate, and I grin.

  “This seems outside the rules,” Mason growls from behind me. I hide my smile and turn my head to glance at him over my shoulder.

  “Oh I’m sorry, what rules would those be?” I ask innocently. I bite my lip as my eyes slide over him behind my shades. God, he looks good—shirtless in just a bathing suit, bronzed golden, and looking fucking yummy. But then, I also catch his eyes slide all over me. My bottoms are basically a thong, pulled up between the globes of my ass, and Mason makes precisely zero attempt at hiding where his gaze centers. I shiver, feeling his eyes pry between my thighs at the thin strip of fabric covering my pussy.