Page 81 of Tuned To Break
We head back outside to find the group in full party mode. Robert’s mid-story about a restoration that has everyone laughing, while the girls are deep in serious poolside gossip.
“There they are,” Chase calls. “We were about to send a search party.”
“Jake was molesting the potatoes and trying to be helpful,” Arden says, deadpan.
“I’m always helpful—and I did no such thing to the potatoes,” I protest, dropping into my chair beside Stella.
“You’re something,” she says, smiling.
The afternoon rolls on with lazy, golden-hour magic—the kind that makes you want to stay exactly where you are, drink in hand, surrounded by laughter and people who feel like home.
We’re well past just co-workers. What we’ve got now is family... if your family loved a drink, swore like sailors, and thrived on mildly inappropriate innuendo.
“I need the bathroom,” Stella announces, stretching like a cat, her dress riding up just enough to short-circuit my brain.
“Me too.” I shoot up far too quickly and nearly knock over my beer. The group groans.
“Subtle as a bloody sledgehammer,” Yasmin mutters into her drink.
“They’re not even pretending anymore,” Emily says, rolling her eyes fondly.
“Should we start a timer?” Parker asks. “Five bucks says they’re gone longer than seven minutes.”
“You lot are pervs,” I call over my shoulder, following Stella inside.
The second the door shuts, her mouth finds mine.
“Jesus,” I breathe. “You trying to kill me?”
“Been thinking about this all afternoon,” she whispers, her hands already sliding under my shirt. “All the ways I want you.”
“Yeah?” I pin her to the door, lifting her so her legs wrap around my waist. “And which way tops the list, darl?”
She nips my ear, voice thick with want. “I want to look in the mirror while you fuck me from behind. I want to see exactly how I look when I come on your cock.”
“Fuck me,” I groan, carrying her straight into the downstairs bathroom like a man possessed.
The lock clicks, but I barely register it. I set her before the vanity, watching her reflection as my hands trail down her body.
“You’ve got no idea what you do to me,” I murmur, pushing her dress up inch by inch. “You walk around all fucking bossy, acting like you don’t know I’d crawl on my hands and knees just to taste you.”
She shivers as I kneel, tug her panties down, and slide my hands up her bare thighs. “Jake... please.”
I kiss the curve of her arse, then stand, letting her feel the full press of my body against hers.
“You want it filthy?” I whisper against her neck. “You want me to fuck you like we’ve got all the time in the world—knowing full well our mates are outside placing bets?”
“Yes,” she gasps. “God, yes.”
“Hands on the sink, eyes in the mirror.” I tug my belt free, open my jeans, and watch her squirm with anticipation. “Now, be a good girl and tell me who this pussy belongs to.”
“You,” she breathes—and the way her eyes darken when my hand slides between her legs tells me she knows exactly what that admission does to me.
I stroke through her slick heat, teasing her clit in slow, lazy circles. “You’re dripping. Already desperate, aren’t you?”
“Yes, Jake, please?—”
I chuckle, stepping in close. “That mouth’s going to get you in trouble.”
