Page 60 of Sinners Reunion

Despite facing away from me pretty much every other night before, he held me most of last night. He was standoffish before, but now? The touches come easily for him. Now he’s ten feet tall and bulletproof, and my schemes are the damn bullets.

Whatever it is he thinks he’s figured out, however he believes he has this bet won, he’s got it all wrong. As soon as the alarm bells started ringing, I checked my defenses. I’m standing tall too, and I’ve found zero chinks in my armor. If he wants to use his cock as a battering ram until my defenses weaken, he’s welcome to try. He’ll get zero complaints from me.

My lips rise in a smirk.

Fucking bring it, King.

“What’s got you looking lopsided?” King asks.

The smirk drops. “Now I remember why I fell for you,” I say, sarcasm lacing every word. “It was the romance.”

“Josie!” someone calls behind me.

I turn and see Cat and Eve, purses in hand. Gary stands off to the side. He gives me a wave and points to the girls, and I smile and give him a nod.

Eve waves me over. “Come on! We’re having brunch before we hit the road for the day!”

“Mimosas!” Cat squeals with a jiggle of her chest.

I take a step forward, half-expecting King to reach out and stop me in my tracks. But he doesn’t. My feet falter, and I turn to look at him.

“Go on,” he says, smooth as ever. “We haven’t hashed out terms, but we both agreed to the exclusivity clause until this is out of our systems. I trust you. Go on.”

Damn him. Damn, damn, damn him!

Defenses fucking breached, and he knows it. Is this all part of his Captain Cocksure plan?

I’m always up front with my partners about my sexual hunger. It’s kind of important for them to know they may walk in on me masturbating at any given moment; that’s preferred, actually. But that brand of honesty usually doesn’t go over well for one of us.

Most men believe one of two falsehoods when they hear the words sex addict, and sometimes they believe both. Either my constant state of arousal equals sex on tap for them, or it means sex on tap for the entire neighborhood. I’m either their fuck doll or the local come dumpster. Either way, one of us can’t trust the other.

King has been the one exception.

When I requested he always gain consent before sex, he agreed.

When he walked in on me ramming a silicon tentacle into myself while on all fours, he didn’t bat an eye. He pulled up a fucking chair and finished on the floor.

When I wanted to go dancing one night, he gave me his credit card and said to be smart. He didn’t demand I stay home because he didn’t feel like going out. He facilitated my good time.

He trusted me.

But trust is a dangerous thing. It’s a pipe bomb sending shrapnel through my armor, and damn, there’s that breach of my defenses. Again. Because experiencing something as fragile as trust is the steppingstone to love.

I hesitate a moment too long, and King raises his hands toward the girls.

“She’ll be right with you,” he says. He pulls me closer and settles me in front of him. “What’s wrong?”

As if he doesn’t know.

I clear my throat before I accidentally tip my hand. “I feel bad leaving you alone. You’re the oldest guy here, after all. Who can you relate to?”

He rolls his eyes, turns me around, and pats my ass. “Go on. I need to get to the bottom of Ice Pick’s problem, so I’ll be well and truly occupied. And I’ll have you know that Jim and Grim are both older than me.”

I straighten my spine and head toward the girls.

At least he hasn’t forgotten about Ice Pick’s mystery, I guess. I’m ashamed to admit I started to. It’s just hard to imagine any of these people doing that to their friend. Poor Ice Pick probably gets laid once every decade, and someone swooped in to fuck it all up. I tried to cheer him up last night.

King still doesn’t know the body shots were staged, just to cheer up Ice Pick and get a rise out of King. And it accomplished both.