However, they failed to meet the size requirement for sharing with his parents the riding-Luke’s-face-just-shy-of-an-orgasm incident. He played her, used her for his own pleasure, then tossed her aside to prove a point—he was a worthy adversary. “Hope you like fajitas, Jessica. I am in the mood for margaritas and guacamole tonight,” Felicity said while filling the glasses, complete with sugar and salt rim garnish. “I love Mexican.” Luke handed her a glass. The shit-eating grin needed to be wiped off the smug bastard’s face. “Did you get everything finished up?” Evil coursed through her veins as she cocked her head to the side while accepting the drink. “Did Luke tell you about Fran?” Felicity and Tom jerked their heads in Luke’s direction. The easy mood vanished, leaving an eerie silence and tension so tight it felt as if the floor could crack open and swallow them whole.
