2/2
Chapter 80
Lola was doubled over, tears streaking her cheeks. “Oh my God, I am immortalizing this.”
Dom climbed back in, buckled, and glared at her. “Your turn, trouble.”
“Dare.” No hesitation.
Gino’s grin was pure sin. “Text Enzo something so filthy it’d make the devil say ‘ma’am.‘ Then you read us whatever he sends back.”
Oh, baby… you’re just handing me ammo.
She didn’t even blink as her thumbs flew:
“What do you call it when I’m sitting on your face, holding the headboard like it’s the only thing keeping me from falling apart–grinding slow until you grab my hips and make me fall anyway? Asking for a friend.”
Dom made a choking sound. “Jesus Christ.”
She hit send, locked her phone, and lounged back like a cat who’d just knocked something expensive off the counter.
The reply came in less than a minute. Her lips curled slow and lethal as she read it out loud:
*Oh, kitten… I call it nirvana. And you’ve been stacking sins all week–phone sex, that picture, the Burning Man shots, the teasing. You think I won’t remember every single one when I get home? I’m not just going to make you fall again, I’m going to keep you there–pinned, trembling, begging–until ‘Daddy‘ is the only word left in your vocabulary. Your legs? Useless. Bones melted into pure liquid. And your hair will be so wrecked I’ll need a hairdresser on standby just to make you presentable enough to ruin again.”
The SUV went silent.
Dom adjusted in his seat. Gino coughed like his throat had given out.
Lola slid her phone into her lap, every inch of her smug and humming with heat. “Yup. I win.”
By the time the LA skyline burned against the night, the air in the SUV was molten–laced with too much laughter, too much heat, and the kind of trouble that came with a body count.
Lola was upside down in the back seat–legs hooked over the headrest, hair brushing the floor mat–absolutely obliterating Gino in Battleship.
“B4,” he guessed.
She smirked, tapping her screen. “Miss. Again. You’re terrible at this.”
“Cheater.”
“Strategist,” she corrected, flicking a glance up at him. “You’re just mad I’ve sunk your destroyer, submarine, and your will to live.”
Dom, now behind the wheel after the last gas station swap, snorted. “If I have to listen to one more game of you two trash–talking like this, I’m pulling over and making you walk.”
She stretched her arms over her head, the world still upside down. “Fine. But I’m bored. Are we there yet?”
“Another five minutes, menace,” Gino said, aiming for calm but smiling anyway.
Five more minutes felt like an eternity. Her mind was already skipping ahead to the expo tomorrow–ink, lights, cameras, and every tattoo artist trying to out–hot each other like it was a blood sport.
And if I’m not winning, what’s even the point?
The SUV finally rolled to a stop in front of a sleek glass building, city lights spilling over the chrome like it was gift–wrapped just for them.
“Hotel time,” Dom announced, climbing out.
Lola righted herself and hopped out behind him, practically bouncing into the lobby. The air smelled like polished marble and money she didn’t have to spend.
They reached the front desk, Dom handling check–in while Gino leaned on the counter like it was his natural habitat.
“Alright,” the receptionist said, tapping a few keys. “We have you all in the executive suite–two bedrooms, shared living area.”
Lola’s head snapped up. “Wait. We’re all staying together?”
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