Cannon (Carolina Reapers 5)

“Again,” I ordered just like she had, and pressed on her clit as I shifted my angle inside her. Her fading orgasm stuttered, then flared into a second one.

This time she screamed my name as she bucked under me, riding out her pleasure.

She squeezed me tight again, and this time I let go, roaring as the orgasm ripped through me, nearly blacking me out. Fuck, if I came this hard every time we fucked, I wasn’t going to survive.

I gathered her against me as we both gasped for breath.

“You okay?” I asked as she wound her arms around my neck.

“Uh huh.” She nodded. “You’re really, really, really good at that.”

I laughed. “I’m kind of your only experience.”

She shook her head. “Nope. I’ve heard stories. Girls talk.”

“Does that mean you’re going to talk about me?” I kissed her nose.

“Heck no. I don’t need anyone trying to steal you away. You’re all mine.” Her gaze dropped to the mixing bowl as she wiggled her hips. “Sorry about your shirt.”

“I don’t give a fuck about the shirt. Ruin whatever you want.” Fuck, I was already hardening inside her.

“Does this mean we’re scratching rule number five?” She arched her brows over those hopeful blue eyes.

“Fuck rule number five.”

“Oh really?” Her eyes narrowed. “What changed your mind?”

I debated keeping quiet. It wasn’t like the woman needed any more power over me. “It was the jersey. There’s something incredibly fucking sexy about seeing my name across your back.”

“Ah,” she said with a little nod. “Well, actually, it’s my name.”

I laughed, and she grinned up at me, a dangerous twinkle shining there. “What are you thinking, Mrs. Price?”

“I’m wondering exactly how many jerseys I can order. I mean, if wearing one gets you to fuck me like that—”

I kissed her quiet, then lifted her in my arms and carried her toward our bedroom. “You have no idea how many ways I can fuck you, Persephone. But I’m going to show you every single one.”

She bit her lip and then nodded. “Yes, please.”

“So polite.”

“Manners are everything.”

“You’re everything.” I walked us straight into the shower and started all over again.

12

Persephone

“This is one of the best-kept secrets in Charleston,” Echo said, holding open the door to the boutique for my father, mother, and myself. “I know the owner.” She winked as she followed us inside.

“Of course you do,” I teased. “I swear you have just as many connections as we do.”

Echo smiled and shrugged. “Comes with running one of the most sought-after bars in the city.”

“It comes from hard work and compassion,” my father said, grinning at Echo. “Don’t brush off your success. Own it. You’ve worked hard for it.” He patted her on the shoulder, and Echo swallowed hard.

“Thank you, sir,” she said.

“Oh, sugar, look at these!” my mother squealed from a corner in the back of the store. “They’re marvelous!”

I hurried over to her, leaving my father and Echo chatting behind me. Both my parents had loved her, naturally, but my father had taken a true liking to her. I wish he’d extend that same kindness to Cannon, but, one thing at a time.

“Look at this beadwork along the neckline,” Mom said, holding out a beautiful silk gown with delicate pearl beads along the deep V of the dress. “It’s divine.”

I gasped, fingering the intricate design. “It is,” I said, and fiddled with the material in search of a label. “Who is it by?”

“Me,” a female voice said from behind us. I spun to see a tall woman with gorgeous red hair and blue eyes standing behind us. She pointed to the sign above the section. “Luna,” she said, pointing from the sign to herself. Then she indicated the shop around her. “This is my boutique. Most of the items I painstakingly harvest from vintage shops, but this section here is all mine.”

“You’re incredibly talented,” Mom said, and I agreed.

“Yep!” Echo popped up beside us, my dad in tow, and grinned at Luna. “Told you,” Echo beamed.

“It’s about time you visit me!” Luna said, wrapping Echo in a quick hug. “It’s been months.”

“That door swings both ways, Luna,” Echo said, giving her a faux glare. Both the women giggled before Echo jolted and fished out her phone. “Not the babysitter,” she clarified, more to herself than anyone else. “Notification.” She glanced at me. “We’re up.” Her eyebrows rose. “Aw, they have Sterling in goal.”

“We must be way up then,” I said, hating that we were missing the game. But I had to find a dress. “If they took Sawyer out.”

Echo nodded. “Sterling is talented. Good kid, too. Sawyer has taken him under his wing. It’s good he’s getting in-game time.”

I smiled, absorbing the knowledge and letting it sink into me. It had been a whirlwind month since our last girl’s night at the bar—the same night I’d made a fool of myself spouting poetry about my husband.