After lunch, he brought me home. When he got out of the car and followed me to the door, I wasn’t quite sure what to do. It wasn’t a date, though it had felt like one. I’d barely turned the key in the lock when he gently took my shoulders and turned me to face him.
His kiss was long and slow and sweet and sexy all at the same time. Jackson Tremaine kissed me more thoroughly than I’ve been kissed.
I pull my panties off and stroke my clit, remembering the way he nipped my lips and sucked my tongue. Hitting the button on the end of my rabbit, I set it to mid-speed. The vibration soaks through my skin and into my pussy as I recall the way Jackson’s warm tongue delved into my mouth and slid alongside my tongue.
I rub my bud with the end of the vibrator, warming up to it. I dip into my entrance and drag the moisture to the edges and up around my clit. Jackson pulled me in close, finding that sensitive place on my neck.
Then he moved back to my mouth. I plunge the vibrator into my slit. Jackson Tremaine tongue-fucked me right on the front porch. I pump the poor substitute for him in and out of my pussy, until finally, the coil begins to tighten, pressure building.
I imagine him rolling my nipples between his big fingers, and moving lower to rub those fingers around my clit, the juice there making them slip into my pussy nice and easy. As I pump harder, I think about how big his cock felt pressed against my belly. I bet when he thrusts, he touches the deepest parts of a woman. Of me. I let out a little pant as I close in on the goal.
I slam the vibrator in and out of my pussy, arching my back to get it at just the right angle. So fucking close. If Jack were here—
“I see you. I see you.” A voice calls through the darkness of the bedroom.
I freeze. The rabbit’s ears beat against my clit as the voice comes again. “I seeeeeee you.”
Something presses down on the blanket near my foot. I scramble to the head of the bed, the vibrator still running and hanging half way out of my vajayjay. I fumble for the lamp at the same time that I grapple with the rabbit.
Finally, I get the light on.
Dickey sits at the foot of the bed, his head turned almost upside down as he scratches his beak.
“Damn bird.” I grab the rabbit and switch it off.
Dickey flaps his wings and mimics the sound of my rabbit.
Oh good Lord. The bird now vibrates.
Sex with B.O.B. will never be the same again.
FOUR
The lights on the dash illuminate her face and throw shadows on the valleys and hollows around her curves. The thought of what’s under that silky little dress she’s wearing, and the way the coral color compliments her mocha-latte skin, sends blood flooding to my groin. My cock flexes.
I adjust my dick, nice and slow. I rub the head through my slacks, imagining it’s her hand on me. When she notices, she stares out the window.
I chuckle. Damn, I’m a filthy bastard. But that’s all right. Now that she knows what I’m thinking about, it’ll be on her mind too. We’ll see how long it takes her to figure out that all men don’t fit into the mold she’s cast in that ridiculous book of hers.
I wave off the valet eagerly awaiting the chance to open Ronnie’s door and earn a fat tip. Then I show some gallantry by helping Shay from the backseat, even though she did threaten my manhood only a few hours ago. Maybe being nice to her friend will earn me some points with Love ‘Em.
I hand the valet key to the guy in the short jacket and offer an arm to each woman. “Ladies, shall we?”
Somewhere close by, a camera flashes. For once, I ignore the paparazzi and lead my companions into the restaurant. The maître d’ seats us right away in a round booth in the most secluded corner available. I settle in to enjoy the fun.
A few minutes go by, but Baxter Ransom finally shows up as we planned.
Shay scoots out of the booth. “Why are you here?”
“I’m here to eat. Why else?” Ransom smiles.
Shay makes a move like she’s going to leave, but Ronnie leans over and grabs her hand. “Don’t you dare leave me by myself.”
Her friend relents and drops into the booth. Bax takes his seat on the other side of Shayna, so she has to scoot.
The weather. The newest exhibit at the Getty. The construction zones clogging up traffic. The holiday decorations festooning this restaurant. All topics designed to keep the conversation moving and everyone seated, with no one storming out.
Ronnie peruses her menu, and then she glances at me. “I noticed the paparazzi outside. Do you find yourself dodging them a whole lot?”
Bax laughs. “The paparazzi sometimes end up dodging Jack—his hand reaching for their cameras. His fists.”
Ronnie’s eyebrows shoot up.