Page 75 of Sinners Reunion

“Can I cash in one of them right now?” I ask. The quicker I can get off, the less lovey I’ll feel. Yuck.

He grips his cock through his boxers and starts stroking. “I think we can manage that.”

“Can we?” I spread my legs and dip my fingers into my sleep shorts.

He takes a step closer. He’s already hard. “Yes, I think we can. But first, I want to know why you won’t kiss me.”

My vagina dries up, and I close my legs. “Not this again.”

“Can you blame my curiosity?” He keeps stroking his cock as if he thinks I’ll turn on again. The poor guy is about to learn what a sore subject this is.

I stand and go to the closet so I can begin dressing for the event—an event I really don’t want to go to ever since I developed this really weird alligator phobia. I’m just trying to support King, who also wants to bail but can’t because of the whole Carter project. But if he’s going to continue to press the kissing issue, he can kiss my support goodbye.

“Josie, I’m sorry,” he says, choosing the apologetic approach versus the defensive approach. Like I said, he’s smart. “It’s just driving me mad. I can’t help but wonder if it’s me who has halitosis.”

That pulls a smile out of me, and I shake my head with a sigh. “No, it’s not your breath. It’s . . .”

I shake my head again. It’s not easy to talk about. It’s so difficult, in fact, that I never mentioned it to any of the many therapists I saw. They knew enough, but I refused to lay out every dirty detail. For anyone. Ever. It’s been my secret.

But more than that, I’m too ashamed of my logic to tell anyone else. What if I pour my heart out to King and he thinks it’s stupid? Not that I need his approval, but I’d be lying to myself if I said I didn’t want it.

Maybe I should tell the girls first. I can treat it as a sort of test run. If it’s silly to them, I won’t tell King.

With a plan in place, I begin to dress. The orgasm will have to wait. For once in my life, I have more on my mind than sex, and that needs to change. Quickly.

The event doesn’t involve gators so much as gators just happen to exist here. We are at none other than Jim’s wildlife reserve, in a section that’s a bit too dry for the reptiles, and I’m glad for that. If I never see an alligator again, it will be too soon.

Thankfully, animals have nothing to do with this game.

We’re in a wide, grassy field. A few yards ahead of us, four oversized pots simmer over a fire. The pots are big enough for a human to get inside, and for good reason. We’re about to make a seafood boil with a very special ingredient.

Jim already explained the rules. Right now we’re just waiting for him to hand out our chef hats—a requirement, he says. Now I know the outfits are just part of the psychology to make the Carters feel like a team.

Once we have our hats, we’ll break into groups of four, band our arms and legs together, and start the most fucked-up multi-limbed race to ever be run. I call this a walking disaster with a side of what the fuck.

There are three different stations, and we have to work together at each to accomplish a step in our food prep. At the first station, we’ll gather wood for the fire. At the second, we have to haul seasoned shrimp, lobster, sausages, and vegetables to our pot using only our tied-together hands. The final station will be the most fun, though. That’s where we each grab a Cattle limb and start sawing more meat for the pot.

Four Cattle have been fastened to large wooden tables. A metal strap encircles their necks, wrists, ankles, and waists, holding them in place. Each recipe calls for two arms, two legs, the head, and one other organ.

“Jim better not expect us to eat any of it,” I whisper as I slip the hideous red chef hat onto my head.

“Chef isn’t here,” King says, “so I doubt we’ll be forced to eat it. Who’ve we been partnered with?”

We look around and find the other two red hats on Frankie and Maverick. They jog over, and we assess the other teams.

Ezra and Kindra wear blue hats with Grim and Rose. Ice Pick and Blayne rock yellow hats with Eve and Gary. Cat, Bennett, Aven, and Quinn wear the green hats. The teams seem evenly divided, with pros and cons to each group.

I’m probably the biggest con for our team. I’m clumsy enough when I don’t have people tied to me.

Before we get started, I pull Frankie aside. We stroll just far enough away that King can’t hear us, though he eyes us like he’s trying to read my lips. Guess I won’t be bringing anything up after all.

“I wanted to run something by you and the girls, but I can’t really talk about it now. Could we chat after the event?”

Frankie smiles at me. “Of course. Once we kick ass, you and I can go take a victory lap and spill tea.”

“Ladies,” Maverick says. “Hate to bust up your super-secret meeting, but we need to get ready.”

“Might want to put me on the outside,” I say as we walk back to King. “I have the grace of a potato.”