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Strike!

Jesus.

Everyone is better at this than me. And Jenny especially so. The woman is a bowling savant, apparently. I squint and read the numbers on the screen above her lane. I have twenty-six and she has two hundred and twenty-six.

Ace taps the tip of my nose. “We’ll practice. You’ll get better.”

I scowl.

Beck chucks his ball.

Strike.

My scowl deepens. “I hate this.”

Noble busts up laughing, Ace joining in, but he does it pressing his lips to my temple and even though he’s doing it laughing at my expense, I can’t lie.

It feels great.

Laughter and teasing and⁠—

“Goddammit, Joan!”

I sigh, thinking Steve—and Joan—may be as much of a lost cause as Lex and Oakes.

Ace grins, murmurs, “You can’t win them all, baby.”

And unfortunately, it won’t be until later that I discover how very true that is.

THIRTY-SIX

Ace

“Ace!”

It’s a loud, feminine protest and I grin.

“Get back down there,” Violet demands, her legs spread wide, her plump pussy fully on display from me, slick and glistening.

I flick my thumb over her clit and she gasps, hips bucking, head falling back, my name tumbling from her lips again, but this time as a moan.

Yeah, that’s better.

But I’m still not going to let her come without me.

I flip her over, earning my name again—this time on a gasp—and then I’m thrusting into her.

This isn’t like by the water. This isn’t slow, drawing out each and every moment.

This is fast.

This is hard.

This is watching that lush ass of hers jiggle when I spank the side of it, when I stroke deep, when she arches back against me.

This is holding tight to her hip and winding my hand into her hair, tugging her head back so I can kiss her dirty, our tongues and teeth battling.

This is feeling her tighten around me, hearing my name on her lips, soaking in all that Violet and I have become over the last two weeks…