“I want your ass,” he whispered into my ear. “Tell me I can have it this Sunday, and I’ll make you come before fucking Clint arrives.”

“No.” My voice was gruff from lack of talking. “I’m not even close. Now that I know Clint is coming…”

“Clint is not coming, sweetheart,” Trent cut me off, cupping my pussy over my hand and squeezing hard. “You’re coming. If you give me your word I can ride your sweet ass this weekend.”

“I’ve never done anal.”

“I want every hole in your body, Van Der Zee. Hell, I want to create new ones in the process of fucking you.”

I nearly chuckled, but then he placed his fingers on mine and directed me, making me finger myself. I spread my legs as wide as I could, feeling his middle finger caressing my tight hole as he helped me work myself up again.

“You’re quiet today,” he said, his breath hitching once again.

“Thought you’d appreciate it. You don’t like talking to people, right?” I propped one of my legs against his waist and he pushed his middle finger into me—touching my own fingers inside myself—stoking my arousal before slowly pushing the finger up my ass.

“I hate it when people talk. I like it when you do. You’re not like the rest. You always have something interesting to say. You hate this shit as much as I do. The fake rich stuff.”

“You love the fake rich stuff,” I huffed, feeling my lower stomach tickling with an orgasm.

“Nope. Just playing the game, my Little Tide.”

“Did you just give me a nickname?” I smirked, feeling the muscles of my tight hole tightening around his finger. It hurt a little, but mostly felt weird. Not weird bad, either. But the kind you needed to get used to in order to enjoy. The way he worked his fingers over mine…that was the real treat.

“Better than Gidget.” He bit my chin.

“I like Gidget.”

“You like Little Tide more.”

“No, I don’t.”

“You’re about to.” He slammed his finger deeper into my ass and I yelped, clinging to his broad shoulders. His lips met my ear and he bit my earlobe, smiling.

I exploded on our fingers. Shattering like never before, in a way that made me doubt I’d ever be able to piece myself back together. The shivers were so violent and profound, I thought I was going to break into pieces. Knocks sounded from outside.

“Hey! Hey! Mr. Rexroth? It’s Clint. I’m here with the elevator’s technician, Steve. We’re coming to get you. Stay calm.”

Trent looked down at me, smiling. My cheeks were flushed—I could feel them burning and making the tight space hotter—and our fingers were completely soaked with my juices. He eased his finger out of me, and I noticed how my muscles were no longer tight and tense.

“Are you calm now?” Trent’s voice caressed the crown of my head.

“Physically, yes. But we’re entering danger territory. I’ve never been in waters so deep.” I squeezed my eyes shut, suddenly afraid of being so frank.

“Neither have I, but I’m a good swimmer. And, Edie? You’re an excellent surfer.”

“JESUS CHRIST, YOU SLEPT WITH her.” Dean closed his eyes, throwing his head back and rubbing his face tiredly. We were all standing by the grill Vicious was manning. He was flipping steaks and burgers, wearing a scowl and semi-casual clothes, while Jaime was unwrapping baked potatoes and dumping enough coleslaw to choke a fucking giraffe into them for the kids. I placed the burgers in their buns methodically on a long porcelain island in Vicious’ six-thousand square foot garden, ignoring them.

They couldn’t know that.

Not from one fucking glance I’d thrown her way while I’d thought no one was looking.

“Spit it out, bastard. We want to know.” Jaime laughed, taking a swig of his Bud Light. Behind him, Daria, his six-year-old, was playing with Vaughn and Knight, Vicious’ and Dean’s kids. Lev and Bailey, the infants, were in baby swings at the far end of the garden, with Rosie and Mel watching over them and sharing iced tea. Emilia, Vicious’ wife, was in the kitchen getting everything ready.

And Luna and Edie were in their own little world, lying on the grass, staring at the sky, their arms tucked under their heads. Edie was talking, and Luna smiled a little and nodded a lot, listening. I was dying to be with them, to get closer, to ask them what they were talking about, but sharing this moment with the two of them was exactly the kind of deep waters Edie was talking about.

“Well.” Dean elbowed my ribs, passing by me with a bowl full of potatoes. “Did you or did you not stick your dick in a teenager?”

I looked up from the buns and the burgers, blinking slowly. Sometimes, it was beneficial to be called The Mute.

“I know you want us to fuck off, but come on, we gotta know. We’re your best friends,” Jaime reminded me, stretching the point by plucking a joint out of his pocket. Dean rolled his eyes, and everybody stopped what they were doing.