Free Suck and Blow: Party Games, Book 1 by Lexxie Couper

off a sharp salute. “Yes, ma’am.”
    Frankie rolled her eyes. “Always the funny bastard.”
    He grinned. “That’s me.”
    Like with Grant, Frankie was giving Dayne a kiss on the cheek before she realized it. “Be patient with her,” she murmured against his warm skin. “She’s been through hell.”
    Dayne sucked in a quick breath and then gave Frankie a small nod. “We will be,” he murmured back.
    We.
    The plural personal pronoun wasn’t lost on Frankie. Nor was the clear emotion in Dayne’s eyes as he walked her to the front door. She suppressed a wry chuckle. If it had been any other two guys making obvious designs on Miki, Frankie would have torn them a new one and left them strung up by their balls from the Sydney Harbour Bridge. But Grant and Dayne… Well, if nothing else, they knew their fate if they messed up.
    Oh, such a tough-girl swagger, Francesca. Who would have thought it was all a façade?
    “Shut up,” she snarled at herself, storming back to Lil’s house. The revelry had not ended in her time away. In fact, the noise coming from the house seemed to be louder, more raucous. The word “scull” wafted from the open door and windows in various laughing chants, the low throb of music a counter beat to the fun.
    Frankie stood on the footpath, staring at the house. Inside, waiting at the bar in the living room, was Alec Harris. Waiting for her.
    Her pussy contracted. Her pulse quickened. Her nipples grew tight. Every nerve ending and fibre and cell in her body told her to walk inside, find Alec and fuck him senseless, even as her stupid, prideful brain screamed at her to call a cab. Now. Right now. Call a cab, climb in it and go home to her vibrator. The one that didn’t come with complication and back-story and confusion. The one that filled the need her body was craving—if only on a superficial, physical level.
    Her heart however…
    Frankie let out a strangled groan, glaring at the luxurious house before her. Damn it, when did she ever, ever listen to her heart?
     
    Alec stared at the drink in his hand, ignoring the rather agitated grumblings from his older brother to his left. Mac, it seemed, wasn’t going to let up on this US contract offer, repeating his advice for Alec to sign it as soon as possible. “Hell, Al—” he gave Alec an exasperated look ten minutes into the wholly one-sided conversation, “—why are you even thinking about it? The contract is amazing. It’ll propel Going Bush Landscape and Design into a whole new stratosphere of demand. You’ll be so damn successful I’ll need to make an appointment just to talk to you.”
    Alec grunted a wordless reply. He didn’t feel like talking about this at all. Mac however, was like a dog with a bone. He went off on a whole new spiel about the offer from the US television talk-show queen, a spiel that at one point veered off into a highly surreal rant about Lillian McDermott’s career and the sleazy photographer shooting her latest advertising campaign before circling back to the original topic of Alec’s growing fame and fortune and success with no apparent segue.
    Alec couldn’t give two flying fucks about the television queen’s desires, nor the contract Mac was so hung up about. Not at the moment. He didn’t want to be famous, he didn’t want to be on television and he sure as hell didn’t want to be thinking about signing a large chunk of his life and time away. Only one thing played on his mind. One thing only.
    She wasn’t coming back.
    The Gun wasn’t coming back. She’d loaded both barrels, shot him straight in the chest and left him for dead.
    Fuck a duck, mate, how pathetic do you have to be to resort to a pun like that?
    Pretty bloody pathetic. Pathetic enough to wish Mac, the brother he loved with all his heart, would shut the hell up and leave him alone with his lukewarm drink and aching balls.
    “I can’t even find Lily,” Mac ground out, and Alec blinked, realizing his brother was back on the