Canvas

by Jacob Chance

  My lips part in a smile. She’s so fucking adorable. “What do I get if I give you four pieces?” I ask, wiggling my brows. “That’s gotta be worth at least a tug or two.”

  She glances down and smirks when she notices the semi in my basketball shorts. Reaching over she plucks a piece of bacon from the plate on the counter, biting it in half. She feeds me the second part and when we’ve both finished chewing she raises up on her toes to press a greasy kiss on my lips.

  “Is this your way of telling me you’d rather eat breakfast?” I question, my hands resting on the curves of her hips.

  “Well, we’re talking about bacon and you know how strongly I feel about it.”

  “I do.” I say, nodding my head. “I think if you had to choose between bacon and me, you’d pick bacon.”

  She presses her lips together and looks up to the side like she’s pondering the pros and cons of both. “I’d pick you, but it would be close.” She sniggers.

  Shutting off the burners, I turn to her. “Is that so?” I ask, staring down into her playful amber eyes.

  “I think I need you to remind me why you’re better than bacon.”

  Picking her up, I throw her over my shoulder and stalk toward our bedroom.

  She squeals, “Josh,” when I throw her on the bed.

  Climbing onto the mattress, I crawl between her open thighs, tearing her panties down her legs. Raising the white t-shirt of mine she prefers to kick around in, I tug it over her head, leaving her naked for my eyes to feast on. “You’re so fucking gorgeous, Elle. You take my breath away.”

  “Bacon doesn’t talk,” she sassily replies.

  Shoving her legs to her chest, I part her lips with my fingers and slick my tongue from the back of her pussy up to her clit. Sucking it between my lips, I flick my tongue against it and she moans. “Bacon can’t do this,” I grumble against the engorged flesh before my mouth resumes its torture.

  “Bacon can make me moan,” she tells me, her voice hoarse with passion.

  Shoving down my shorts while I work her pussy with my tongue, her head whips side to side on the pillow. Lost in the pleasure I’m driving her to, she doesn’t notice me lining up before I enter her in one hard thrust.

  She cries out and I immediately thrust again, one hand busy rubbing on her clit. Slamming into her over and over, I keep up the pace until I drive her to a screaming orgasm. Falling down onto her, my forehead resting on her shoulder, our harsh breaths break through the peaceful morning.

  “Bacon can’t do that,” I smirk, proudly.

  Epilogue

  Josh

  One Year Later

  “Close your eyes and don’t open them until I tell you to,” I order.

  She immediately complies, a small grin playing on the edges of her lips. “I like the sound of this.”

  I grab the folded white drop cloth from the shelf and move to the middle of my studio. Spreading it out neatly, my eyes quickly flick to Elle. I need to make sure she’s not peeking. “No looking.” I don’t want her to ruin the surprise.

  Glancing down, I double check that the cloth is how I want it before I return to her side. Taking her hand, I say, “open your eyes.”

  She does as I ask, gasping when she sees what’s painted on the cloth. Will you marry me? is in large blue letters at the top and I painted a pic of her and I standing under a curved wooden arch that says happily ever after.

  “Elle Johnson,” I say, dropping to one knee. “Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?” Staring up at her, I smile at her dumbfounded expression. How did she not see this coming? We’ve been officially living together since the week after the art competition and everything has been fantastic. Why prolong the inevitable? I’m making it official before she can change her mind.

  “Yes,” she screams. “I will. Hell yes,” she squeals, dropping to her knees in front of me. She throws her arms around me before our lips lock and we fall to the drop cloth, mouths connected passionately together. We both break apart laughing when we land on our sides. She rolls over to her back, one final giggle slipping out. Propping myself up on an elbow, I lean over her. Raising her left hand, I slide on the diamond ring I chose and then kiss the back of her hand.

  “Josh, it’s beautiful.” She stares up at her finger, twisting her hand from side to side, watching it sparkle.

  “And they lived happily ever after,” I say with a wink.

  “No,” she says shaking her head. “They lived and loved, painting the canvas of their life and creating a one of a kind masterpiece.” With those words, she wraps her arms around my neck, pulling my mouth to hers for what we do best - a little silent communication.

  About the Author

  Jacob Chance grew up in New England and still lives there today. He’s a martial artist, a football fan, a practical joker and junk food lover.

  QUAKE | QUIVER | DELVE | TIED | DELUDE | PENALTY | PUNCHED | QUAKE DUET

  Aces & Eights Series by Logan Chance and Jacob Chance

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  Prologue

  CARTER

  January - Two Months Ago

  The happiness radiating out of every single pore of my sister Reagan is a welcome change. I always knew she and her fiancé Noah were meant for each other, it just took them four years to find their way back together. Sometimes, fate has a way of stepping in and destroying all our plans for the future. I should know. I’m well versed in fate’s assholish qualities. How else can I explain that the guy I’ve been in love with for the past three years was sleeping with someone else - a close friend of mine. An ex-friend now, but it doesn’t change the fact that she ended up exactly where I imagined I would be - as Mrs. Joseph Baldwin. One drunken hook up between them and she’s pregnant with his daughter. They’ve been married for four months now.

  I know, I deserve better. He’s a lying, cheating dick who wouldn’t know a good thing if it bit him in the ass. He gave me up after all and I pride myself on being the best person I can be. If you Google ‘good girl,’ I’m pretty sure my picture is the first thing that comes up.

  Glancing down, I run my hand over the soft material of the pale pink dress I’m wearing. Even the clothes I wear are appropriate. Pink and pearls are two of my favorite things or at least that’s what everyone thinks and I’ve never done anything to correct their faulty assumptions. How could I when ninety-nine percent of the time I’m wearing both?

  What they don’t know, what I won’t even admit to myself is that I’m sick of my good girl image. At this point it’s starting to feel like a persona I’ve adopted to make everyone like me - everyone except me. I can’t stand this sickeningly sweet person I’ve become.

  Shaking my head, I gulp down some more of the champagne Noah supplied for their surprise engagement party. He asked my sister Reagan to marry him earlier tonight and he had us all waiting here to celebrate with them. The two of them haven’t stopped smiling since they arrived. That’s the way love is supposed to make you feel. It’s not supposed to change you for the worse or turn you into a meek bobblehead who only knows how to nod in agreement.

  When did I become a doormat that Joseph wiped his feet on - and a pink one at that? It may have started with him, but it’s spilled over into the rest of my life and now I’m the ultimate people pleaser. I please everyone except myself. It’s exhausting.

  I’m tired of being me. I want to be brash and bold, two things I forgot how to be when I met Joseph my senior year of college. Instead, I let him mold me into the perfect little accessory on his arm - the perfect aspiring politician’s wife. And when push came to shove he ended up sleeping with my friend who’s the exact opposite of me. She has a list of ex-lovers a mile long and she nev
er wears pink or pearls.

  How’s that for irony?

  Drinking back the rest of the champagne, I frown at my empty glass. Guess I need a refill. Each one goes down smoother than the last and makes me feel a little better.

  “Would you like another?” A deep voice to my left asks as a large tan masculine hand appears in front of me. My head spins around to see who’s speaking and I have to brace myself against the wall behind me. The champagne is affecting my balance or maybe it’s the sight of this stranger’s devastatingly handsome face.

  He flashes me a quick grin showing his straight white teeth that can only be achieved with braces and a possible dimple in his left cheek. “Would you like some more champagne?” he offers again, holding the glass up in front of me. My father always told me not to accept drinks from strangers, but there’s something kind about his hazel eyes that has me clasping my hand around the glass. Our fingers brush; his skin is warm to the touch and causes a flutter of excitement in my stomach that climbs all the way to my chest. My eyes sweep up to meet his. There’s heated interest in those hazel depths as they travel down to my mouth, where they linger. Licking my suddenly dry lips, I watch as he continues to stare.

  What is he thinking?

  A heated flush washes over me and I let my gaze wander down to his mouth. His lips are masculine, the bottom one fuller than the top. I wonder what it would be like to kiss him. I’ve never kissed a stranger before.

  He holds his hand out in front of me. “I’m N…”

  “Don’t tell me your name,” I quickly interrupt.

  “You don’t want to know my name?” He quirks an eyebrow.

  “No.” I grab his hand. “Come with me,” I order as I begin to walk purposefully toward the exit of the room.

  “Okay, you don’t need to ask me twice. Do I get to know your name?” he questions.

  “Nope, no names. No details at all.” I set the glass down on a table we pass by.

  “I’m all for a little mystery. I’ll even volunteer my body up for your exploration in the name of chemistry. It’s always been my favorite subject.”

  Glancing back as we exit the room, I don’t notice anyone looking our way. Good. I don’t need witnesses. I pause to get my bearings and figure out where we need to go next.

  “Where are we going and what are you going to do to me?” His voice is deep and husky with a hint of laughter next to my ear as he leans down close. When I turn my face toward him our lips are only inches apart. They’re close enough to feel his warm breath on mine, to smell the fresh scent of mint on his breath.

  Fuck it.

  I grip his head and smash our mouths together. He makes a noise of surprise when our teeth clash, but recovers quickly. His hands slide into my hair as he takes over control of the kiss. His tongue lashing against mine conjures up images of us naked in bed together with him thrusting his cock into me.

  Oh god.

  I’ve never been overcome by such a need to kiss someone before. The passion is uncontrollable and it’s impossible to restrain myself. Now that I have his lips on mine, his tongue in my mouth, I want more. Shamelessly, I rub my breasts against his chest. The thin material of his buttoned shirt doesn’t disguise the rock-hard chest beneath. My hands slide up to explore his wide shoulders and thick biceps.

  He grips me under my ass and scoops me up in his arms. I wrap my legs around his hips and he groans into my mouth, pressing my back into the wall behind me. We’re in the brightly lit hallway where anyone could come out and see us grinding against each other. I can’t be bothered enough to care. All I can think of is how good his hard cock feels pressing against my clit and how I never want this kiss to end.

  His lips leave mine to slide a wet path down my neck as he gently bites the delicate skin below my ear. “Can I know your name now?” he asks huskily, thrusting his hips into me.

  “No,” I moan. “No names.” My fingers rake through his thick dark brown hair. It’s softer than it looks and my pussy throbs as I imagine his head between my legs.

  “Then I’m going to call you Candy.”

  “Candy?” I question.

  He licks along my collarbone and buries his face in the valley between my breasts. “You look like cotton candy in this dress.” The warmth of his tongue bathes the top curves of my breasts. “You taste like it too,” he murmurs.

  The slam of a door in the distance has his head raising. My legs unwrap from his hips and he places me down. He steps back from me and runs a hand through his hair while I adjust my dress.

  We both glance up as someone enters the other end of the hallway. It’s only one of the employees from the catering company Noah hired, but it’s enough to break the spell between us. Reality has come crashing back in full force and I’m horrified at my actions of the past five minutes. I just made out with a total stranger and let him dry hump me against a wall. His face was buried in my boobs and I didn’t tell him my name.

  I didn’t even want to know his.

  I still don’t.

  Now I just want to get the hell out of here and forget this happened. I can always blame it on the champagne.

  “I have to go,” I blurt out, hurrying down the long hallway toward the exit.

  “Wait,” he shouts, but I keep moving. “Candy, where are you going?”

  I don’t answer him or look back. I scurry around the corner and find a restroom I can disappear inside. Once the door closes behind me, I breathe a sigh of relief. Moving over to the sink, I stare at myself in the mirror. My cheeks are pinker than I’ve ever seen them, a combination of passion and embarrassment. My hair was neat and orderly at the beginning of the party, but now it’s a long, light brown mess from his fingers. I don’t even look like myself. My pink dress is askew, the edge of my white lace bra exposed. Smoothing over my hair with both hands helps to get it back in order and I make sure my dress is covering everything it needs to.

  Glancing down at the diamond and platinum Rolex Joseph bought me for my twenty-fourth birthday, I realize it’s too early for me to leave. I don’t want to disappoint Reagan. Sighing, I resign myself to returning to the party room and I head back in that direction. I know I’ll have to ignore the handsome stranger for the rest of the night. I take a deep breath when my hand closes around the doorknob, here goes nothing.

  Once I step back inside I allow my eyes to scan the space, seeking out his tall form. I’m disappointed he’s not anywhere to be seen, but I know it’s for the best. It’s not like anything could ever come of it. Spontaneously kissing one stranger doesn’t change that I’m a good girl who’s forgotten how to be anything else.

  Chapter One

  Nick

  There’s nothing better than the first sip of an ice-cold brew after a ball busting workout and with the ass kicking I just suffered at the hands of my trainer, I need all the help I can get.

  “Dude, what was up with Jimmy today? He was all over everyone, even you and you’re marrying into the family,” I ask my buddy Noah, who’s engaged to Jimmy’s youngest daughter Reagan. He’s one of my best friends and a fellow fighter who won a national title eight months ago making him somewhat of a celebrity now. It’s surreal to see random people walk up to him and ask for autographs or pictures with him.

  “I’m not sure. Reagan mentioned something about her sister going through a tough time. Her ex-boyfriend is giving her problems. I don’t know the details, but I know Jimmy threatened to kick his ass and I volunteered to help.”

  My ears perk up at the mention of Reagan’s sister. “Which sister?” I ask. I’ve only met one of them, although we weren’t formally introduced.

  “It’s Kennedy, the oldest sister.”

  Nodding my head, I breathe a sigh of relief that it’s not Carter. I’d hate to think of anyone giving her a hard time and if I found out they were I’d feel obligated to do something about it. While the two of us were never formally introduced, we shared the hottest kiss of my life. There hasn’t been a day that’s gone by where I have
n’t thought about the minutes we spent together. God knows I’ve tried to forget. I don’t want to be hung up on some girl who wouldn’t even give me her name. Not to mention that she’s my trainer’s daughter and he’d be a nightmare to deal with if he knew I was interested in her. He’s already tough on a normal day. If we were dating, he’d make my life hell every opportunity he got.

  “Hey, are you coming to our party?” Noah asks, then takes a small sip of his Sam Adams draft.

  “Yeah, I’ll be there man. I wouldn’t miss it. Free booze and food, that’s all me. Are any of Reagan’s friends coming?”

  “Moira will be there,” he says, his lips hidden behind the glass of golden beer when he takes a sip.

  “She’s hot, but she’s got crazy written all over her. She asked me if my sperm were strong swimmers when we met and mentioned something about me being a good substitute father for her future children.” I shake my head. “The girl’s whacked.”

  Noah laughs. “She’s a little out there, but she’s good to Reagan and that’s all that matters.”

  Lifting the bottle of Heineken to my lips, I swallow a gulp down. The cold brew hits the spot, quenching my thirst and helping me relax after my workout.

  “How are you feeling about the upcoming fight?” I ask.

  He shrugs his shoulders. “Good so far. It’s still two months out, but I think I’m right on track.” He sips his beer and then places the glass back on the bar in front of him. His fingers drum on the wooden surface as he glances around. “What did you decide to do about football for the next school year? Are you going to play or not?”