Page 101 of Fake Shot

I bring my other knee up under her other thigh and wrap my arm around her lower back as I continue with the deep thrusts that have her chanting, “Yes, fuck yes,” over and over. And then her chants are practically screams, as her muscles pulse around me while her orgasm overtakes her. And when she yells, “Oh my god, oh shit, Colt!” I trail gentle kisses up the side of her neck and behind her ear as I let her ride the waves of her release on my cock.

The feeling of her coming on me, the way her body rhythmically squeezes mine, has electricity flowing through my veins until the pulsing in my balls has me emptying myself into her in several long, hard thrusts.

“Holy shit,” she says as I collapse on my elbow, hovering just above her. Her lower body is still wrapped around mine,but she exhales until the rest of her is almost lifeless beneath me. “I don’t know what that was, but it was magic. Is it always like that?”

I look down at her flushed cheeks, the way she’s still panting and not letting me go. I want to be joined to her like this forever.

“No,” I tell her honestly. “It’sneverlike this. Except with you.”

Chapter Thirty-Eight

JULES

“Alright, we’ll be in touch then,” Jay Davenport says, shaking my hand and then Audrey’s as the elevator dings to alert us to its arrival on his floor of the building.

Meeting with him has been the polar opposite of my meeting with Jerome weeks ago. Jay has been nothing but professional, explaining that his interest in the program is because—with the number of commercial properties he owns in downtown—he has his own crews for repairs and renovations but has trouble finding qualified, reliable people to keep on staff. When he told me what the starting salary was at his company, I was floored. That kind of income could make a huge difference in people’s lives, and I’m thrilled that he’s specifically looking to hire women too.

“Thank you so much for your time,” I say as we turn and step into the elevator.

“Looking forward to working with you,” Audrey adds, and then the doors close.

We turn toward each other, and I hold my index finger to my mouth as I look up and watch the floors count down while the elevator descends. When we’ve gone down fifteen floors, I figure that’s far enough, and I reach over, bracing my hands on Audrey’s shoulders as I say, “Holy shit!”

Both of us are squealing with excitement, because the donation he just promised us is a game changer. We’ll be able to help so many people, and I’m confident that his guidance will be extremely valuable as we grow the mentoring program.

“Okay, we need to meet with Morgan and figure out our next steps,” Audrey says. Morgan’s only official role in Our House is to run our social media accounts, but this mentoring program was her brainchild. We’ll need her help messaging out more information about expanding the program, and she may even be able to help us recruit a director for the non-profit. Her recently acquired MBA, combined with her social media experience and her willingness to share her wealth of business knowledge, have been invaluable.

“Can you set up some time with her?” I ask as the elevator arrives at the lobby . “I have to run over to the Seaport and see the progress on Colt’s condo, but I can make time tomorrow or Friday.”

“Wait, is Colt’s place done already?”

“God no,” I tell her as we cross the lobby. The fact that she thinks damage that extensive could be cleaned up and rebuilt in the past several weeks is proof that she knows very little about the construction side of our business. “But drywall is going up tomorrow, so he wants me to look at everything before it’s all closed up.”

“Alright. I’ll text you and let you know when Morgan’s free so we can meet and figure out next steps.”

We go our separate ways, me to where I parked my truck down the street, and her toward the Boston Common because she says it’s too nice of an evening not to walk home. Getting over to Colt’s building in the Seaport is easier than I’d expect at this time of day, mostly because Boston traffic seems to start well before rush hour and is generally better by the time I’d expect it to be bad.

I leave my truck with the valet, who tells me it’ll be parked next to Colt’s in the garage, keys inside, when I’m ready for it. And then I’m headed up to the thirtieth floor. Colt greets me at the door, but I hardly notice him as he stands there taking up most of the doorframe, because in the space beside him, I have a clear view directly out the floor-to-ceiling glass walls. And with the sun already on the horizon, Boston Harbor looks like it’s on fire with ribbons of gold and orange dancing across the surface of the water.

“Holy shit,” I sigh, one hand pressed to my chest. “This view...”

Colt looks down at me. “I’d say thanks, but I don’t think you’re talking about me.”

“You’re so full of yourself.” I laugh as he pulls me to him, circling his arms around my back and pressing a kiss to the top of my head.

“If I had my way right now, you’d be full of me too.”

“I don’t know why I like you so much,” I say, rising onto my tiptoes so I can trail kisses across his jaw.

“Because I’m a likable guy.”

I snort out a laugh. “You’re tolerable, I suppose.” I don’tknow why I keep pretending to resist him—but it’s like a defense mechanism I can’t let go of after so many years.

“You seemed to tolerate me just fine when I was buried inside you last night.” The words are a low caress against my ear and send a shiver down my spine.

I can’t help the way my body tries to curl into him, how my hips want to rise and meet his, how my skin wants his rough hands skating gently across it, how my core aches to have him inside me again.

“Meh,” I say, and go to move past him.

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