Page 67 of Quake

Lark turns her attention to him, watching as he gets more and more frustrated, using several of his tickets to try to win the game. “You good here for a second?” I ask her. She gives me a nod of approval, and I crouch down beside the little boy.

“Hey, bud, it looks like you’re really working those big, strong muscles of yours to win something up there.” I use my chin to direct his attention to the net above our heads, holding hundreds of stuffed toys.

“I think I just used all my energy at baseball practice yesterday,” he tells me, his voice small. He couldn’t be more than six years old. I see his parents standing a few feet away, and the dad gives me a small, thanks-filled smile.

“Well, that’s not your fault. You’ve gotta put all your muscle into the game, isn’t that right?”

“Yeah!” he shouts into my face, still seeming exasperated by his inability to win the prize.

“You wanna borrow some of my strength so you can win one of those toys tonight? It’s only fair with how hard you’ve been working at practice,” I tell him.

“Sure!” he says enthusiastically, picking up the discarded mallet.

“Alright, buddy,” I tell him, positioning his hands on the mallet and closing my hands over his. “On three.”

We count down together, and on three, we hit it out of the park, so to speak.

He jumps up and down excitedly, shouting at his parents to see how strong he is before running over to the counter to pick out his prize. I wave goodbye to him and his parents before rejoining Lark, who’s standing with Tiny, looking every bit as infatuated with me as I feel about her.

I wrap an arm around her waist, resting my hand on her hip and pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “Just when I thought you couldn’t get any hotter,” she jokes.

“Come on, trouble. I have a date with a teacup, and I’m not willing to reschedule,” I tell her as we head toward the spinning cup ride.2

1. R U Mine? – Arctic Monkeys

2. All My Life – Foo Fighters

Chapter thirty-seven

Lark

Thursday, April 3, 2025

“Okay, one last ride and then we can go home and watchJane the Virgin,” I say, smiling up at Gianni. He’s been a good sport about this whole night, and I think hemayeven have actually enjoyed himself.

“Alright, one more ride. What will it be?” he asks as if he doesn’t already know the answer.

I drag him over to the Ferris wheel, excitement buzzing through me. The sun is about to set, so the lights are bright, and the view from the top should be pretty incredible, overlooking the skyline. “Where is Tiny gonna go?” he asks me, genuinely seeming concerned.

“I’m sure the guy taking the tickets won’t mind watching him.” I wink up at him, pulling out a wad of bills I’ve been saving for just this moment. Absolutely nothing is going to stop me from getting my perfect kiss at the top of the ride tonight.

Besides, Tiny would stay put wherever I tell him to, but I really prefer for someone to have a hold on him just in case.

When the last round of people get off the ride, we’re up next. I pass our tickets and the twenty dollars in ones to the guy taking the tickets. “Would you mind watching my service dog, Tiny, for us while we’re on the ride?” I ask, batting my lashes at the young man in the ticket booth.

“Uh, sure,” he says, accepting the money and opening the gate to let us through. I tie Tiny’s lead to the metal bar and tell him to stay put.

Grabbing Gianni’s hand, I pull him toward the two-person seat waiting for us. We close the gate, ensuring it’s firmly shut, and a minute later, someone comes by to do the same. When everyone’s locked in, they pull the lever, and we’re off. Gianni grips my hand as we make our way slowly to the top.

His hooded gaze is practically burning a hole in my mouth. “Was I a good boy tonight, little red?” he asks.

“Averygood boy,” I tell him, trying to say it how he had, the words dripping sex but failing miserably because, frankly, I’m kind of an awkward person.

He lets out a low chuckle, dipping his head close to mine and nipping my bottom lip. He releases my hand, dropping it to my lap and raking his middle finger over the seam of my jean shorts. His chest rumbles with a sound of approval. “You’re already soaked for me, and I’ve barely touched you,” he says, continuing to stroke me through the thick fabric.

I look around, frantic, to make sure no one can see us, but we’re almost at the top. Just as I’d thought, the view is incredible, and yet, the only thing I want to look at is the man sitting beside me.

His hand cups the back of my head, dragging my mouth to his. He sucks my lip into his mouth, releasing it with a pop and dipping his tongue inside to taste me. The hand on my lap shifts, and I hear my zipper lower before the weight of his calloused hand slides in under my lace thong.

---