Page 131 of Jace
“Darlin’,” Wilder twirls the toothpick in his mouth, “I didn’t go after your bestie. She came after me.” He smirks. “Ain’t my fault I’m hotter than blue blazes.”
Vivian rolls her pretty eyes so hard that they may get stuck like that. Objectively, Wilder is twisted eye candy.
“Yeah, well…” I jut my chin. “Best run before she shoots you. And get us a round and send my dealer over. I need to score.”
Wilder saunters away, and minutes later, a round of pints and Bishop appear. His server sets our brimming glasses down before Bishop plops a black cooler bag in front of me. “This is the last you get until you prove you’re good for this shit.”
Sasha darts her eyes between us, worried that I’m scoring drugs and Bishop’s my dealer.
Close.
He’s my secret supplier of Kodachrome film. They don’t make it anymore.
Vivian shrugs. “I keep telling him to enter your competition, but he won’t listen.”
Not true. I listen to every word she does and doesn’t say, but every time this topic comes up, I get that rare insecurity.
With Vivian, I’ll share everything, even my photography. With everyone else? Hell no. The last thing I need is shit from Grant about how I like to take pictures of babies. Watch: he’ll start leaving diapers on my stool every day.
“Well, if you don’t enter.” Bishop shoves his hands into his tattered jean pockets. “That’s the last of it. I’ll save my stash for a shutterbug who ain’t shy.”
Seems Bishop’s father and his uncles were amateur photographers. When they were killed, they left a lot of priceless gear behind, and in their honor, the brewery hosts an annual photography competition.
“Fine by me.” I shake the bag containing six rolls of rare film. “These are for Vivian anyway. She’s the pro.”
“Don’t put this on me.” Vivian smiles with frothy lips from her pilsner. “You just helped me shoot The Mercier spa campaign, and once I stroke you a check for your shots, you’ll officially be a professional photographer.”
Stroking checks is not what I’ll remember from our afternoon at the spa. It’s stroking my hard dick over Nash’s for her that I’ll never forget.
Vivian passed the queen’s test. It felt like she truly belonged. She trusted us as much as we trusted her.
Nash doesn’t share that side of himself with anyone but me and Vale. Hell, we didn’t even know it existed until Vale’s initiation.
Not that we do it all the time. Not that I need to now that I finally have Vivian. But from here on, there are no secrets, no shame, nothing shared that she won’t be a part of.
Vivian’s ready to be initiated and wants to do it before she’s supposed to start her period. All the queens have planned around it. Not that the kings don’t proudly earn our red wings. I’m dying to taste Vivian that week. I want everything with her.
Though…
I won’t be mad if her period doesn’t come.
I think I’ll fall to my knees in gratitude if she makes me a father.
But I get it.
It’s for a woman to decide when she’s ready, and it’s a lot of pressure on her. Vale’s right. Men have it easy. Women bear the weight of the world; it’s not fair that they suffer the burdens too.
Not my woman. Six kids or six kittens: I’m all in. I’ll be a STAD, as Wren calls them: a stay-at-home dad and stud.
I used to love taking care of Loch when he was a baby. Nick and I were too close in age, but I was old enough to feed Loch, carry him, and change his diaper. I was such a proud older brother until Loch shot a golden stream into my face while I was changing him. After that, Sire took over diaper duty.
“When’s the next competition so Jace can enter?” Vivian asks Bishop so sweetly, I can’t get mad at her belief in me.
Bishop tsks. “Just missed it. It’s February twentieth: Ansel Adams’s birthday.”
Vivian bounces her brows at me. “That gives you almost a year to shoot something amazing.”
“Shoot isgun, right?” Poor Sasha. English is confusing as shit.
