Page 25 of Beautiful Mess

Maybe Winston will have me forgetting about what Conway’s fingers feel like inside of me and how easily he made me come.

Yeah, this is a good idea. This is what’s best.

Ten

Conway

The High Tide Tavernis busy tonight. Music plays loudly from the jukebox and liquor flows as the bartenders take everyone’s orders. It’s Friday night, and I couldn’t think of a better way to end the hellish work week I’ve had than by tossing back a few cold ones with my buddies.

“Here you go, honey,” the bartender says as she slides four new bottles of Budweiser across the counter. “Put it on your tab?”

“Yeah, thanks,” I grunt, using both hands to grab them all before weaving through the crowd to get back to the table we’ve secured on the back patio. Davis, Sam, and Everett, the three friends I came here with tonight, are laughing about something as I approach, but their attention flits to me as I sit down, each of them taking a beer and giving me a round of thanks.

I’ve been friends with Davis and Sam for years, but they also work for me. Mine and Everett’s friendship is a newer one, him having only moved to town about a year ago. The three of us make an effort to go out for a guys’ night at least once a month, but with kids and busy schedules, it doesn’t always happen.

“So, Gemma told me the auction was a hit,” Everett says before taking a long pull from his beer.

“It was.” I nod, thinking back to the text Grace sent the other day, letting me know how much we raised. “I wasn’t sure it would be a success, but I can admit I was wrong.”

“How’s it been working on it with Grace?” he asks, and it takes effort to not groan at the sound of her name.

It’s been almost a week since the night of the auction, and what started out as a very satisfying evening ended with me filled to the brim with rage and jealousy—two emotions I’m not used to feeling. Getting to experience Grace in the way I did in the hallway, feeling her soak my fingers with her cum and try to hold back her moans of pleasure was the hottest thing, but as soon as we were done, a switch flipped in her, and she was gone before my cock even had a chance to deflate. Then to see her flirting with that fucking guy I’ve never even seen before while the scent of her was still on my fingers was maddening.

I shrug. “It’s been fine,” I say in response to Everett’s question. “Although, I’m sure you’ve heard different.”

Everett chuckles and nods. “You’re right.”

“Did you guys finally fuck?” Davis cuts in.

Leaning over the table, Everett says, “Okay, then you see it too?”

“The sizzling sexual tension between them?” Davis snorts. “You can see that shit from a mile away.”

“You should’ve seen a few weeks ago when Grace came to the job site for something,” Sam mutters. “They got into a fight about god knows what, but they looked like they were dying to rip each other’s clothes off while simultaneously ripping each other’s heads off.”

“No, we didn’t,” I grumble, taking a swig from my bottle. This isn’t the first time Sam or Davis have said something like this, but it’s no less annoying than it was the first time. “And quit fucking talking about me like I’m not even here.”

I haven’t told any of them about fingering her the night of the auction, nor do I plan to. I’ve always been private when it comes to my personal life, but with Everett being so close to Grace, it feels even more inappropriate to talk about. Especially if Grace hasn’t told Gemma yet, which I’m sure if she did, Everett would already know.

“I don’t know, boss,” Davis murmurs. “Haven’t seen somebody get this under your skin in a while.”

“She’s not under my skin,” I lie.

“When was the last time?” Everett asks, gaze focused on Davis instead of me, because he probably knows I won’t answer.

Davis shares a glance with Sam, like they’re telepathically trying to do the math. “Not since his second wife, I think.”

“Is that the last relationship you were in?”

“Yes, it was,” Sam replies for me, and I scowl across the table at him. He chuckles. “After the divorce, Conway switched to a more no-strings-attached method.”

Everett snorts. “I’ve got first-hand experience on how that method doesn’t work.”

“Maybe for you,” I grunt, pinning him with a look. “But I’m not you, and Grace isn’t Gemma.”

“So, you admit?” he asks, eyebrow cocked. “There’s something between you two?”

“I didn’t say that.”

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