Page 19 of The Spare (The King Dynasty #2)

Chapter eleven

Don't Let Go

I 'm in class the next morning trying to work on this pop quiz our professor surprised us all with when my phone vibrates with an incoming message. I flick my eyes around and sink deeper in my seat.

Opening it, I turn the brightness down in an attempt to be discrete, and I nibble my lip, seeing three missed texts from Mason.

Why didn't you answer the phone last night? -Mase

Hey, why're you ignoring me? -Mase

Melody! - Mason

Oh, you're using your full name now on your sign offs? Must be mad at me. -Mel

I'm about to come up there! Pay attention to me. -Mase

I roll my eyes, laughing quietly behind my hand and try to hide my phone behind my purse as I work to reply.

What? I'm in class, Mason! -Mel

I don't care. -Mase

I can't just walk over to my in-office lounge with a drink and scroll and text. I have to concentrate. -Mel

You can spare me two minutes. I have a question for you. -Mase

Whaaattt? Out with it! -Mel

Let's go dancing at that nightclub on thirty-fifth tonight. -Mase

My heart skips a beat, and I flush so warm I look up in a panic, wondering if anyone heard my shocked inhale. What I want to reply is “Why?” but though he said it was a question, he phrased it as a statement. So, I decide to take the bone the universe has just given me and say instead:

Sounds like a good time. What time? -Me l

I put my phone away and attempt to focus on my quiz, but truthfully my mind is everywhere and anywhere but on what I need to be focused on.

At the end of the class I check my grade, seeing I've failed the quiz.

Ugghhhhh.

I'm irritated. Pissed at myself that I can't get this man out of my head long enough to pass a pop quiz. However, soon I begin to look forward to going out tonight because I know it'll make me feel better about my bad grade. And I'd do anything to dance with Mason.

Mason gives me a devilish smile as he leans against the side of his red Ferrari, parked illegally of course, as I make my way across the street, being careful of any cars or random students on bikes and scooters.

I'm decked out in too-short shorts and a crop top, my hair flows long and wavy down my back, and I topped the look off with a pair of kick-ass heels.

I still barely make it to his chin.

"Hey, butterfly. Damn you look good," he says giving me a whistle, causing me to melt.

I roll my eyes. "You're such a gentleman," I tease, putting a little pep in my step as I get closer. He pushes off the car when I get close and snatches me up, giving me another thorough once over as he pulls me to him for a quick hug.

"Hmm," he hums, running his nose along my ear. "I'm not always gentle, Mel," he says in a sexy low voice, wrapping his arm around my waist and pulling me harder against him. "Remember that. "

My heart thumps hard at his words, and my pussy twitches with excitement at what the hell he could mean by that.

"Whatever," I scoff playfully, but I really want to ask him to show me.

I wrap my arms around him, about to risk it all and embarrass myself by asking him, but the way he smells has me captivated as well, and I lean even more into him to get my fix of my little secret.

Our hug doesn't last long, though, before he's guiding me to the passenger side and opening the door for me. The excited energy rolls off him in waves, and there's a spark in his eye I haven't seen in a while. It's nice to see, because I know the tension in his family has been high.

"Oh my god, are you high or something?" I giggle, arching a brow at him.

He laughs and then hunkers down, leaning into my ear so close I can feel his breath caress my neck.

"I just banked three million dollars today.

We're celebrating. The money and your upcoming birthday, baby girl," he says in a cheeky tone, slamming my door shut and then sliding across the hood of his car in such a smooth move my eyes go wide.

When he gets back in the driver's seat I snap my seatbelt on and I turn to him. "Three million dollars? In one day?" I ask breathlessly.

Because let's be real here; that's so fucking cool, and only something a person tends to read about online, not get to experience.

He glances in the rearview mirror, waiting for Donte and Stephen to flash their headlights before pulling off. As soon as he gets the signal we're off, merging into the nighttime New York traffic and headed to Devotion, a private club that you need a membership to get into.

According to Mason this is the newest addition in a series of clubs sprinkled throughout the city called Club Committed, Club Infatuated, and the newest is Club Devotion, and it looks packed to the brim.

We park and see there's at least fifty or more people outside waiting to get in.

However, in true King fashion, we don't wait with the others.

Nope.

We head to the beginning of the line where the mean-faced bouncer doesn't even look twice at Mason.

And I bristle, knowing it's because he's been here before.

Feelings of jealousy rise hot and fast inside of me, and I cut my eyes to him, wondering if he's taken a girl he's met here home and fucked her.

He's never brought me to his house…

"Mr. King," the bouncer says, unclipping the rope and stepping aside. "Have a good time tonight."

"Thanks, Bernard," Mason clips, letting go of my hand and putting his arm around my waist instead, drawing me close to him.

I try not to let that excite me too much and tuck myself closer as the bouncer lets us and our security through, averting my face from the pissed off crowd and ignoring the boos of everyone still waiting in line.

"Yikes. I thought we were going to be drawn and quartered out there!" I exclaim as we enter into bustling nightlife of neon lights illuminating the dark club.

My eyes wander excitedly, seeing women dancing in circular cages hanging from the ceiling, bodies sweating and moving on the dance floor and tons of bottle girls everywhere. It's the type of fun I wanted for myself when I moved to California -which never happened.

Mason's fingers tighten on my waist as we make our way deeper into the club. I don't ask questions, letting him take the lead and soaking in how natural this feels for me to let him. I'm not snippy with him like I am with Hendrix, who I feel like meddles too much.

Of course we go straight to VIP: a curtained area sequestered off in the corner of the club on a raised platform that sets us apart from the dance floor but close enough for us to be in on all the action. I don't recognize anyone as I pass the curtained little areas, but I wonder if Mason does.

"I'm not waiting for a bottle girl," he says, his voice pitched loud over the music as we enter into our own private area. "Stay here, and I'll get us a couple drinks."

"Okay!" I say loudly, throwing myself to one of the plush couches and crossing my legs.

His face tightens, but he turns quickly and walks away.

I crane my neck to see him wind his way through the crowd, and then disappears behind the bar and pulls down bottles, making the drinks himself. My brows go up.

What the hell?

I turn to eye Stephen who's standing by the entryway.

"Does he work here or somethin'?" I ask loudly in an attempt to be heard over the music.

He turns his head slightly to look at me. "Or somethin'." Then he averts his face.

I blink. Oh.

My eyes go back to the crowd again and see him coming back with a small tray of assorted drinks.

However, a woman presses up against him, smiling and pressing her boobs all over his arm and smoothing her hand across his chest. I inhale sharply as a hot pang of jealousy shoots through me so fast that I tense up hard enough to strain a muscle in my neck.

"Ow," I whimper, bringing a hand up to rub at it, but I can't look away from the train wreck of this gorgeous woman rubbing herself all over him.

To my horror, tears flood my eyes; although, they go away just as fast when he pushes her off in a firm, no-nonsense movement that's accompanied by a pretty dirty look that makes the woman step away hastily and surprises me with its viciousness.

I'm still a little stunned when he sidles up next to me with our drinks and hands me mine.

I widen my eyes at him and blink. "Damn, Mase. What did that poor girl ever do to you?"

Shooting his shot, he places the empty shot glass on the table before tilting his head at me. "Not my type," he answers in a rough, sexy voice.

I scrunch my nose. "I have a hard time visualizing your type, Mason," I tease sarcastically and roll my eyes.

I want to ask him if he's dating someone so bad I can taste it. But I don't tend to like to meddle, and I sort of feel like if he were seeing someone then he'd have told me. That's how close we are.

At least…. I think that's how close we are.

I side eye him, feeling irritated and tighten my lips as his thigh brushes mine, and his scent floods my nose. Fuck, I'm so turned on I know I'll need to use my vibrator when I get back to my dorm.

Curiously, I sniff the drink and then take a sip, rolling my eyes in annoyance when I taste it's alcohol free. I snap my head to look at him.

"I thought you said we'd have my first drink together?" I complain.

He gasps appreciatively as he sucks down what I assume is whiskey, looking quite content. "And we will, on your birthday . It's not your birthday yet, butterfly." He turns his head to look down at me with a playful look on his face.

I grumble. "Come on Mason! Let me have a sip of that."

"Uh-uh," he leans back, expertly dodging my attempt to grab his drink. "You're not twenty."

"I'm twenty tomorrow," I look at my watch. "In four hours, actually. Mason, stop playing!"

"No. We agreed."

"I don't care!"

"Too bad, because I do! "

My eyes narrow. "You're an ass for taking me somewhere fun and then drinking in front of me."

He arches a brow as amusement clouds his features. "Oohhh, I love it when you get angry with me, butterfly."