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He went on to adopt Bella and have three sons with her mom.
When Blake and Bella got engaged, Ward and Samantha were reunited, and she had decided to announce the news to them all during a fucking family lunch with everyone there.
Thanks very fucking much.
That was two weeks ago.
“Yeah, just had a tough few weeks,” Jacob replied, swirling the dark liquid in his glass.
As his eyes lifted, he spotted one of the regulars. His lips quirked as Melanie sidled up, unzipping her black cropped jacket and revealing a red lacy bralette.
“Jake,” she ran her hand over his pec and lifted her face to his. “Are we playing tonight?”
“Where’s Lucy?”
One-on-one wasn’t his thing, but his two favorite girls and some mind-blowing orgasms were just what the doctor ordered.
Again.
God knows the whisky wasn’t doing fuck all to quiet the voices in his head. Instead, he was going over and over all the things he should be doing. Like answering his family messages.
Shoulds—fuck those things.
“On her way.” Melanie smiled naughtily.
“Trent, book out the VIP booth in The Observatory and send up a tray of drinks for the girls. And let Lucy know we’re waiting for her when she arrives.”
“Yes, sir.” Trent grinned.
His phone buzzed in his pocket. Sliding it out, he saw Blake’s name.
Shit.
Taking Melanie's chin, he leaned in. “Go upstairs, strip, and I want you wet with your legs spread by the time I get up there.”
“Yes, sir.” Desire gleamed from her orbs as she grinned and skipped off.
Jacob felt the familiar excitement spread through his groin. He lifted the phone, then halted, and glanced back up.
“Mel”—she stopped and glanced back—“leave the toys alone until I arrive.”
“Spoil sport.” She flung the door open and disappeared.
He chuckled and pressed answer as he lifted the phone back to his ear.
“Jacob Dufort.”
“Dick. You know it's me.” Blake replied.
He shrugged.
“And don’t shrug. I can’t see you.” His brother added.
Jacob chuckled. “What do you want? I’m about to dine.”
There was a moment’s silence.
“Can’t you call it something else?” Blake asked.
