Locked (PresLocke Series Book 2) (23 page)

As he filled me, I couldn’t stop the groan that left my throat. And even when he was balls deep inside, our bodies as intertwined as they could possibly be, I still wanted more.

“Dylan,” Ace said. “You feel…”

“I know,” I said, holding him firm against me. “So damn perfect.”

Ace’s cheeks clenched beneath my hands, and then he began to rock, small movements at first as I adjusted to the size of him, then he pulled his hips back, inching himself out. As he tunneled back inside me, I took a hold of my cock, working it in time to Ace’s thrusts. His blue eyes never left mine, and he stayed hovering over me, keeping our bodies connected, skin to skin. Every time I pumped my shaft, the tip grazed against his rock-hard abs, and the friction was almost too much to take.

One of Ace’s hands came up and threaded through my hair, pulling my head back so my neck was exposed up to him, and then he licked a warm, wet path up my neck.

“Yesss,” I said. “More.”
 

And just as I’d asked, he repeated the move, sending a shiver from the top of my head to my toes. Then his voice was a soft whisper in my ear, and his words made my heart leap.
 

“You’re so much more than just a dream…you’re my reality, Dylan. Now and forever.”

Forever…
 

That word, whispered in my ear, had my heart thundering, my body trembling, and the orgasm drawing my balls up tight as I gazed up at him.

Forever with this man?
I wouldn’t have taken anything less, and as he let go of my hair and my eyes met his again, he said, “I want to come with you.”

I twined my arms around his neck, and my legs around his waist, and as he took me over I heard words of love, comfort, and need being chanted in my ear. I could feel Ace claiming every part of me. From the tips of my hair, to the soles of my feet, and when he whispered, “Forever,” the climax ripped through us both.
 

We came holding one another. Rocking the other through the storm and emerging on the other side, stronger for the journey.
 

20

MOUTH FULL OF HOT WEINER

MY PHONE VIBRATED in my pocket again, and I sighed and pulled it out to check the screen. Not that I needed to. Martina had been calling all day, but now wasn’t the best time. We’d just arrived at the beach to have a bonfire with a few of Dylan’s friends on our last night in Sunset Cove, and I had no intention of being rude and taking a business call. She could wait.

Dylan came up next to me then, two plastic cups in hand, and nodded toward my phone, which I shoved back in my pocket.
 

“She’s called about a thousand times already. Don’t you think you should answer that? Might be important.”

I took the drink he held out to me and shook my head. “If I do that, it’s back to the real world.”

“We’ve gotta go back there tomorrow anyway.”

“Am I hearing you right? You
want
me to answer this call?”

“Might as well. I don’t think she’ll stop until you do. Just tell her to make it quick.” He leaned over and gave me a kiss, and then backed away toward where his friends were setting up chairs around a circular pit.
 

I groaned as I watched him rejoin the group, and then I fished the cell out of my pocket. The phone connected almost as soon as I hit her number.

“Ace?” she said, sounding frantic, and as soon as I heard her tone, my shoulders tensed up. “Where have you been? I’ve been calling all day—hell, all week—trying to get in touch with you. I know you’re on vacation in Florida, but you can’t tell me that phone isn’t attached to your hip.”

Yeah, okay, she has me there.
“So you know I’m in Florida,” I said.

“You think just because you go off to another state that paparazzi can’t find you? Not that they’re swarming like they are here, so you probably haven’t noticed them.”

“Is that what this is about? Because I don’t care what they get a picture of. I’m not hiding. I just needed to get away for a few days.”

“I get that. I do.” Martina sounded sympathetic. “But I hope you get back raring to go, because I got the best phone call this morning. Are you sitting down?”

I glanced over at where Dylan was shaking hands and giving hugs to Derek and an attractive man in the brightest pair of electric orange Bermuda shorts that I’d ever seen. “No,” I said. “Not sitting down.”

“You should really sit down for this.”

That got my attention. “Is this good news or bad news? You said best phone call, right?”

“That typically means good, yes.”

Looking around me, I didn’t see anywhere but sand to plop down on, so I kept standing. “All right, I’m sitting. What’s up?”

Martina took a big breath and let it out on a rush. “Carly Wilde wants you on her show. Carly
Wilde
! An hour-long, possibly two-hour, interview exclusively with you.”

“That’s the best news ever?”

“Ace! This is huge. You know when Carly Wilde has someone on her show, it really ups their profile.”

I snorted. “Like I really need my profile upped any higher. I’ve got paparazzi sleeping outside my fucking gate, Martina.”

“You know what I mean. America loves Carly. You win her over, you win the viewers over, and we’re back in business, baby.”

I opened my mouth to respond with something sarcastic, but then I paused. She had a point, but why did Carly even want me on the show in the first place? When my career was plummeting faster than a skydiver without a parachute, and my love life was splashed all over every tabloid in the world?
 

“What does she want to talk about? Why’s she calling now? Why not when things were going well, hmm?”

“Oh, Ace. You know she loves a good comeback story. So does the rest of the world.”

“I have to make a
comeback
now?” I asked, my voice rising. I looked over at the group starting the bonfire; Dylan’s friends hadn’t noticed my outburst, but Dylan caught my eye and raised a brow. I waved him off so he wouldn’t worry, and then lowered my voice. “I’m not about to go on national television to do an interview with a woman who wants to know how I feel now that all my career prospects are suddenly vanishing and to rub in my face why.”

“It wouldn’t be like that—”

“It would, and I’m not doing it.”

“Ace—”

“No.”

I could almost see the shock on her face as she said, “So…you want me to tell Carly Wilde
no
. As in absolutely, positively no. Am I hearing you right?”

“That’s what I said.”

“You’re making a mistake with this. She could help you—”

“I don’t need her help. I don’t need
your
help. Let me just…figure out my next step, okay?”

Martina was silent for a long moment. “If that’s what you want…”

“That’s what I want.”

“I’ll pass along the message, then. See you when you get back.”
 

“See you then,” I muttered, and ended the call, wishing I’d never called in the first place. I tried to keep my face neutral when I glanced across the beach to see Dylan’s eyes on me, but some of the strain must’ve showed, because he made a move in my direction and I shook my head and instead headed toward him. There was no way I was going to ruin tonight for him. This could wait until later, tomorrow, when we were on our way home. But here, tonight, with the balmy breeze blowing and the fresh, salty air wafting off the waves, I planned to enjoy the night with my boyfriend and his friends.

* * *

AS DEREK SLUNG an arm around Jordan’s shoulders, I watched Ace slip his cell phone into the pocket of his shorts and head in our direction. For a second or two there I was worried I’d made the wrong move in suggesting he call Martina, but now that he’d hung up he seemed to shed whatever they’d been discussing like a second skin, and relaxed into his stride as he headed toward us.

“Okay,” Jordan whispered, as he leaned my way, aiming a dazzling smile in my direction. “Before he gets over here. Can I just say how excited I am to meet your boyfriend?”

When Derek rolled his eyes, I chuckled and nodded. “You can. I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t mind if you told him yourself.”

“Oh my God. I would never,” Jordan said, clearly mortified by the thought.

“Jesus, Jordan. He’s just a man,” Derek said as if he hadn’t tripped all over himself when he’d first met him.

“I’m well aware he’s a man,” Jordan said, and then looked in Ace’s direction. “I mean, there’s no mistaking
that
. What is he, Dylan? Six foot three? Five?”

When Derek groaned, I couldn’t help my bark of laughter at his put-upon expression. “Actually, he’s only six foot or so. It’s the muscles that make him look—”

“Delicious?” Jordan asked, innocently enough.

“Oh for the love of— Where’s the alcohol?” Derek said.

“What? As if you weren’t thinking it too,” Jordan said. “I kind of have a
thing
for muscles.”

I glanced at Derek’s ripped biceps, which were on display in his black tank top, and then shot a grin in Jordan’s direction. “I remember. Relax over there, He-Man. You look like you’re about to have a stroke.”

“Yeah, yeah. Fuck you, Prescott.”

I bit the inside of my cheek as Ace finally came to a stop in front of the three of us, each of us looking at him with what I only assumed was wide-eyed innocence, and when silence was all that greeted him, he glanced in my direction and I couldn’t help it. I lost it.
 

I busted up laughing, and when Derek mumbled, “Fuckin’ hell,” I laughed even harder.
 

Jordan showed no hesitation then, stepping away from his man to extend his hand like he was the Queen of Sheba, and when Ace took it, Jordan took another step forward and glanced up at him, batting his lashes. Full-on sex kitten.

“Well, hello there, handsome.”

As Ace’s lips curled to one side, he looked my way, and I just raised my brow, letting him know he was all on his own with this one.

“Hi,” he said, and then tracked his eyes down Jordan to his blindingly bright pants. “Nice shorts.”
 

Jordan cocked his head to the side as if trying to decide if Ace was serious or bullshitting him, and then he gave him a coy smile and a once-over of his own before announcing, “Nice…everything.”

“
O
kay, Jordan,” Derek said, stepping forward and taking hold of Jordan’s elbow. “Excuse him; he actually has a brain, just not around—”

“Muscles,” Jordan ended, and then let go of Ace’s hand to trail his fingers down his arm, which made Ace’s eyes bulge and me laugh all over again.
Shit
, I had no idea how Derek had wound up with that firecracker, but damn if it wasn’t amusing as hell to watch.

“Obviously my boyfriend has a thing for
your
boyfriend, Prescott,” Derek grumbled, crossing his arms. “Yeah, yeah, just get it all out in the open there. Maybe add a bit of tongue.”

Jordan’s trilling laugh echoed in the evening air as he turned back to his man, his eyes gleaming, and then threw his hands over Derek’s shoulders. “You know I’m a sucker for a man with a possessive streak.”

“And muscles, yeah, we heard,” Derek said.

Jordan looked over his shoulder at us and said, “Anyone here know a guy by that description? Resting bitch face, tattoos, sexy fucking ass? Doesn’t usually play well with others?”

As Ace and I began to laugh, Derek tried to bite back the smile that was playing on his lips.
 

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” he said.

“You’re lucky I have a thing for bad boys named Derek Pearson,” Jordan replied, and then dropped his arms and faced us. “So while we wait for the others, let’s get our drink on and you guys can tell us every little juicy detail about how you met, how you’ve been sneaking around, how that place we can’t talk about but we all know about was…”

“Nice try,” I said as we all took a chair and Derek stoked the fire a bit. It had been relatively mild weather the last few days, and we’d spent them relaxing on the beach, boating, spending time with the family, and generally unwinding. I couldn’t say I was dying to get back to the crazy that would welcome us tomorrow, and I had a feeling Ace wasn’t looking forward to it either. But it’d been a good trip, and I hoped it’d gotten his mind off everything for at least a little while.
 

“See, this here’s how we treat fancy folks who come visit us in little ole Sunset Cove,” Derek said, and held up a skewer and a packet of beef franks. “We make you cook your own wiener over the fire pit.”

“We’re classy like that,” Jordan agreed, passing us both a couple of skewers and a separate package of hot dogs.
 

Ace laughed and leaned forward in his chair toward the fire. “I’m not complaining. It’s a nice change.”

“You know,” I said, “if you wanted to really go all out, you could’ve brought the—”
 

“S’mores?” Derek held up a bag of marshmallows and chocolate bars, and I promptly shut my mouth.
 

“Jordan brought these. I don’t do sweets,” he said, tossing the bag of marshmallows my way. “I shouldn’t think you would be doing too many sweets either, Prescott.”

“Oh shut it, Derek. Just because you’re weird and don’t eat desserts—” Dylan said.

“Really?” Ace asked, looking over at Derek. “You don’t like dessert? Of
any
kind?”

“See, weird.” Jordan grinned in Derek’s direction.
 

“If we’re gonna talk about weird, how about we discuss the fact that the last time we sat around a bonfire with s’mores you managed to—”

“Derek Pearson, you shut your mouth,” Jordan interrupted, shooting to his feet. His eyes were round and his lips were pinched together as he glared daggers at a chuckling Derek. “Oh, but what fun would that be, Posh?”

Ace leaned over to where I sat beside him watching the show playing out across from us, and pressed his lips to my temple, where he whispered, “Did he just call him Posh?”

When I nodded, Ace laughed and turned back just in time to see Jordan’s scarlet face. “Be careful, He-Man…”