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"Okay, okay. Enough talk about sleeping with Pick's wife already," Gamble scolded. "Damn, Ten." He must've turned to Mason next because he said, "Lowe, change the subject. What's been going on with you? How're you and your old lady after that cougar came by the bar?"

I held my breath because I hadn't even thought of Mrs. Garrison since Mason and Reese had gotten engaged. I'd been a little preoccupied with my new piece of heaven on earth. Checking on her, I leaned over to watch her sleep in her crib, and wow . . . She was just so precious.

"She let me put a ring on her finger," Mason was saying outside, "so I'd say we're doing fine."

The pride in his voice made me smile. It was just so nice to know how much he loved Reese. I liked seeing her happy. Reaching out, I stroked Skylar's soft cheek. She stirred and began to wake. Since it was past time to feed her anyway, I leaned over the railing and pulled her into my arms before opening my shirt to give her some breakfast.

Gamble's stunned voice floated into the room. "You're getting married? Holy shit, guys. I was only out of the loop for a couple weeks. I knew Ten was moving in with Hamilton since I left him homeless so I could move in with my girl. But Pick's married with a kid, Lowe's engaged, and Ten's turned to sleeping with married women? Shit. Pretty soon you'll be telling me Hamilton here's lost his v-card." After a moment of silence, Gamble exploded, "Holy shit! Hamilton lost his v-card?"

When a round of chuckles answered him, Gamble joined in. "Well, congratulations, bud. What'd you think?"

"What'd he think?" Ten's incredulous voice snorted. "The guy had sex for the first time. She could've been the lousiest lay on earth; if he came, he liked it!"

"She wasn't lousy." Hamilton sounded offended, which made me smile. It was nice to hear a guy defend a girl instead of trash talking her to his friends.

"Oh, yeah?" Ten sounded intrigued. "She climb on top of you and take control or let you think you were in charge?"

"Hey, easy. Lay off the kid," Pick scolded. "He doesn't have to give details."

"What the hell ever. I want to know everything. When, where, how long, which positions. How many times you made her come."

"I don't—" Quinn started, only to cut himself off abruptly.

"Well, spit it out," Ten demanded. "Don't leave us hanging now. You didn't what?"

I could almost feel poor Quinn blushing from all the way inside the house. His voice was more of a mumble when he finally admitted, "I don't know if I actually made her . . . I mean, how do you know?"

Silence greeted his question. Finally, Ten said in a scandalized, horrified kind of voice, "You didn't make her come?"

More silence. Then, "I don't know."

"Trust me, Ham. You'd know," Gamble said.

"But . . . how?"

Ten snickered. "Did she scream your name, claw your back, chant, 'ohmigod, ohmigod, ohmigod, harder faster. Right there, Quinn. Fuuuuuuck me!'"

"Which is proof the ladies obvious fake it with you," Mason said dryly.

"Hey, fuck you, man. How do you know when it happens then, oh great and mighty Lowe, king of all sex gods?"

"You can feel it," Mason shot back. "That sweet little muscle contracts around your junk right about the time her eyes roll into her back of her head and her back arches up and her thighs clamp around you."

I gagged a little, not wanting to think about him—or Reese—in that way. Startled by my reaction, Skylar broke away from my nipple and seemed confused. I was so busy trying to help her latch back on, I almost missed it when Pick answered, "He's right. You can definitely feel it milking your dick."

Immediately, I went hot all over, imagining him that way. With me. God . . . I thought it was the pregnancy hormones that made me horny for him. But I wasn't pregnant anymore, so I should've been over this by now.

"Yep," Gamble added with a single affirmative as the conversation continued.

Ten snorted. "Whatever. You can't feel that shit."

"Maybe you're not big enough to feel it then." Mason snickered.

"Oh, look who's bragging about his size today?" Ten sounded suddenly put out.

As if to save him from feeling deficient, Quinn quickly said, "I don't think she came, then. How do I—" Once again, he cut himself off, but everyone, me included, knew exactly what he was asking.

"Sounds like you need to put your tongue to work." Pick's suggestion made me realize I'd grown wet. How freaking embarrassing. Just his voice and the word tongue aroused me.

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