Page 7 of A Season Of Sin

Everything is perfect until the front door opens, and our friendship bubble bursts when a certain wife enters the room.

“Hey, babe, you’re home.” Jace turns on the couch and waves for his wife to join us. I hold my breath as she sits right on Jace’s lap, and I damn near jizz in my jeans.

Well, fuck me.

Gracie isn’t blonde. She’s brunette.

Gracie also isn’t skinny.

Gracie is goddamn perfect, with luscious curves, a round belly, and big tits pressing against her green sweater. Her eyes are a honeyed hazel, and her ass—I can’t fully see it—but it’s thick and round, taking up a large section of Jace’s already wide lap.

Damn.

She holds out a dainty, pink, polished hand for me to shake. Oh, and I do. I slide my palm straight into hers, and she gasps the sexiest little sound as I greet the little rabbit.

“You must be Jace’s wife,” I grit, then clear my throat.

She nods, staring at me with wide, expressive eyes. “Y-yes… Yes. I am. You. You must be Wolf,” she stammers, so damn cute. My dick twitches, loving the sound of her.

“Jace,” she squeaks, looking over at her husband.

“Go on.” He chuckles warmly, and Gracie slides from her husband’s lap into mine.

Fuck.

Double fuck.

Her weight is perfect as it settles on my thighs, and she curls her leggings-covered legs onto the couch. She doesn’t ask if she can join me. She just does. I welcome it, but I also eye my friend to ensure he’s cool. By the soft smile he flashes me, he’s totally fine with it.

“Hi,” she coos, resting a hand on my chest.

I rub a lock of her silky hair between my fingertips. “Hi, back. Is there a reason you’re sittin’ in my lap, sweetheart?”

Gracie chews her thick bottom lip. “Am I allowed?”

“Of course.”

“Jace promised I could do this if I ever met you,” she says, voice breathy.

“Do what, sweet girl?”

“Share.”

“Share, huh? What’s to share?” I ask, absolutely mesmerized by this vixen.

“You’re Jace’s hall pass,” Gracie announces, with a tiny crinkle between her brows, like that explains everything. To her it probably does, but I have no idea what she’s talking about.

“I’m what?”

“Gracie,” Jace grumbles.

She looks over her shoulder at her husband. “What?”

Jace palms his face. “He doesn’t know.”

Yeah.

I’m fuckin’ clueless here.