“Yourotherleft!” Cade shrieks through the speakers in our helmets, clinging to me like a koala as we fly around the corner. As soon as we hit the straight, I glance over my shoulder. His mirrored visor reflects back at me. “Are you directionally challenged or just deaf?”
“We’re taking a shortcut,” I snicker, revving Lillith’s engine.
His arms tighten around my waist as the bike lurches, his scream dissolving into manic laughter as we rocket down a back road, kicking up dust in our wake. A horn blares. I throw up a middle finger at the truck tailing us.
“He’s gonna spank the shit out of you,” Cade warns.
“Good. Maybe he’ll finally fuck me.”
“You know he wants to. He just doesn’t want to hurt you.”
While Cade makes a valid point— I’m still sore from the pelvic floor physical therapy session we just left— I don’t care. I don’t want logic. I want my boyfriend to stop worrying forthree fucking seconds and feel good with me… even if his dick will probably (absolutely) hurt like a bitch. Althoughtechnically, Seba wasn’t cleared to have sex until two days ago. He’s still supposed to be taking it easy, but last night… well… Cade begged to eat me out, which got Seba hard and it was too temptingnotto see if I could make him come with my mouth. (He lost it when I massaged his shaft with my tongue piercing.) The result: Cade face down between my thighs, ass up as Seba railed him into oblivion.
It was the first time all week that the three of us finally relaxed. Ever since my father’s arrest, it’s been a blur of police interrogations, interviews, and doctor appointments. My father’s congregation, Seba’s mom included, is in serious denial despite the mountain of evidence stacked against him. Since he’s been denied bail, they’ve been protesting outside the prison, insisting he’s been framed. He’s even got Mom out there in fucking mourning garb, parading around like a grieving widow. It’s honestly embarrassing. I’ve never wanted to change my last name more. (Andrea Holt-Warren has a nice ring to it.)
An incoming call blares through the Bluetooth in my helmet.
“Hi, daddy.”
“Slow the fuck down,” Seba growls.
“Chill, big guy, I’m going the speed limit.”
“You’re pulling away from me.”
“Then maybe you’re just going too slow.” My phone vibrates with another call. “Gotta take this, see you in a sec, grouchola!” His protest is cut off when I switch lines.
“You guys taking the scenic route?” My best friend asks. In the background, his boyfriend grumbles something. “Win says vampires aren’t built for this heat.” More mumbling. “And he’s hangry.”
“Tell Winifred to stop being such a whine-box. There was an accident, so we took a detour. We’re pulling in now.”
The words have barely left my mouth when the bright green sign comes into view, aFlower Festivalbanner swinging in thebreeze. We coast past a mess of cars haphazardly parked along the road until we find an empty spot on the sloped shoulder. Sebastian rolls into the space beside me as we remove our helmets. Cade shakes out his wild blonde hair and springs off the bike, tugging me toward the maze of food trucks and craft tents.
“Fuck yes, there’s funnel cake! And tacos!” His head snaps to a pen where a group of kids screeches and squeals. “A fucking petting zoo, too? You think they have ducks? I fucking love ducks.”
Seba chuckles, coming to take Cade’s other hand. “Let’s find Remy and Win first.”
It doesn’t take long. One, my best friend is predictably at the cookie truck ordering one of everything and two, his boyfriend is the only idiot wearing black on a day this fucking hot.
“I’ll have a strawberry shortcake one!” I call as we approach.
They twist toward the sound of my voice.
Suddenly, my stomach swoops. Remy has never hung out with Cade and Seba despite all of us attending Kingsbury together. And it’s the first time Win has met either of them.
Please get along.
“About time,” Remy grins, passing Win the bag of goodies to hug me. He’s glowing. Relaxed. So happy it makes my heart swell too big for my chest. I squeeze him, extending our hug a little longer to soak it in.
“You can let go now,” Win grumbles.
“Calm your tits, Pooh.”
“Pooh? Like Winnie the Pooh?” Cade snickers. “Clever.”
Win’s grey eyes snap to him. He squints. Assessing. Seba slides a hand into Cade’s back pocket, mirroring Win’s glare.
I’m surrounded by possessive cavemen.
