What Happens In Vegas.... Lauren Dane

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СКАЧАТЬ I wanted from us was more than a sexual friendship. That also meant she didn’t want anything to do with that particular want of mine.

      She would.

      There would be no new fuck buddies for Carinna. We were it, meant to go the distance. If she couldn’t see that truth in how suited our bodies were, then somehow I would convince her of it in words, prove to her we were worth risking a relationship. That somehow eluded me right now, so I concentrated on the moment, on pumping into her delectable pussy and losing myself in each moist, hungry grip until I could feel her orgasm clenching tightly around me, drenching my cock in her juices, and finally I gave in to my own climax.

       Carinna

      Jack didn’t forget the olives. He’d told me as much twenty minutes ago, before he’d given me one of the fastest, hardest, most incredible fucks I’d had since our first time together.

      I’d been too caught up in pleasure, as well as concern over his continued need to point out how well he knew me and what exactly that said about his state of mind where our friendship was concerned, to get his meaning until two seconds ago—when he’d pushed my thighs wide and buried a pimento-free, green olive in my slit.

      The ends of his carnal grin disappeared into his mustache as he bent his dark head, used his thumbs to pull my slick pussy lips so wide they burned with wicked pleasure and skewered the center of the olive with his tongue.

      My fingers pushed savagely into his hair. Sizzling heat pooled in my blood and shot from my center to my freed, bouncing breasts. Keeping my hips from thrusting against his face was an impossible feat. I could feel the push of the olive inside me, mini-fucking me with each of his forceful strokes, but even more arousing, I could see it.

      The closet at the foot of my bed was finished with mirrored doors and Jack had been careful to position me at an angle where I could view his every sinful move.

      My hips bucked on the bed and my blood pumped wildly as I watched his expert tongue work in and out of my hot, wet body, licking at the slippery folds of my pussy and the cream-coated olive, then go racing toward my clit.

      The bastard never touched my clit.

      He just kept teasing, both with his tongue and the slow circling of his fingertips along my swollen labia. Always coming so close. Making me ache so badly I hurt with my need.

      It was the sweetest of slow, sensual treats and, given he’d already supplied me one fast orgasm, it should be the last thing I wanted. But I did want it, wanted it to go on all night long. Only, the increased tempo of his tongue and the way he turned his teeth on the olive, attacking its tender, tart meat in seconds to expose my dripping sex, told me it was about to turn into a fast orgasm, after all.

      Hell, at this rate, I would be lucky to last a minute.

      Keeping the exquisite pressure of his thumbs on my spread lips, he cupped my ass with his fingertips, lifted my center more fully to his mouth and twisted his tongue, French-kissing my pussy. My nipples stabbed with throbbing sensation. My toes curled. Sweat gathered between my breasts.

      “Is it nine already?” I sang out as orgasm approached in a dizzying rush that had me forgetting the erotic sight in the mirror to release Jack’s hair, fall back on the bed and dig my nails into the blanket.

      His tongue kept up its tender assault, licking, twisting, lapping at the walls of my sex until climax took me over, and then he pulled from my body to devour my juices.

      I came back down from a happy little orgasm cloud to find him sitting at my feet, his lips glistening and his grin huge. “Eight-thirty,” he finally responded to my question. “And I didn’t forget the gin either.” He winked one of those devilish blue-green eyes. “Just wait till nine. We’re going to play a round of The Disappearing Bottleneck.”

      I laughed hard and long, while my pussy gave an eager flutter and exploded with a fresh burst of arousal.

      Despite my claim to the contrary, Jack had been right. I did love my dirty sex and he knew exactly how to provide it. It was just one of the many reasons I loved him.

       I loved him.

      My laughter stopped short. I dragged in a steadying breath. Why did I keep coming back to those damned words? Could I actually love Jack beyond friendship the way I was coming to think he might love me? And what did it matter if I did? I didn’t do relationships. I knew too well how they ended in ruins and heartache.

      No, I couldn’t love Jack that way. And even if I did, I wasn’t about to admit it to him.

       Carinna

      We were back to being bosom buddies. When Jack had left my apartment that morning—after giving me an open-mouthed kiss that had left me wet and horny and an adoring look that had left me fearful that I could end up breaking his heart if I kept letting him sleep with me—I had never thought that possible.

      But here we were, sitting around Jack and Ryan’s kitchen table, dressed in our oldies but goodies, tossing chips into a poker pot and shooting the shit like the three of us had done every Wednesday night for nearly fifteen years. It was Friday, but the scenario still felt more like a homecoming than anything I’d ever experienced. These guys were my family as much as, and probably more than, my parents had ever been, and I belonged here with them, as a friend and the sister they’d never had. And that meant I needed to stop sleeping with Jack. Forgetting how quickly and thoroughly he got to me wouldn’t be easy, but for our friendship’s sake, I could do it.

      Or so I was trying to convince myself when Ryan grabbed a bag of salt-and-vinegar chips and another of pretzel rods from on top of the fridge and tossed them on the table. The pretzel rods were my favorite, the salt-and-vinegar chips Jack’s favorite. I knew even before Jack pulled the bag open and popped a chip into his mouth I was in deep trouble.

      It wasn’t the way Jack ate his chips that bothered me. It was how he licked the residue from his fingers, so as not to get grease on the cards or poker chips. One at a time, starting with his index finger, he trailed his damp tongue from knuckle to knuckle, onto the next finger, the next knuckle. Lick. Lick. Lick.

      His gaze flicked to mine without warning, far too fast for me to stop my ogling or close my slightly open mouth. A cocky grin curved his lips. Wicked intent sizzled in his eyes. His licks turned to a fervent suckling of the sensitive web of flesh connecting his thumb and first finger.

      My heart raced. My pussy pulsed. I stifled my moan, just barely.

      I could feel that suckle straight to my core, like he was slurping the juices from my sex, eating the cum clean from my body the way he’d done that morning, after delivering me to ecstasy by way of the vibrator he’d found stashed under my bed. Feeling the flesh-colored dildo quivering inside me had always felt good. Knowing Jack had controlled its every move had tripled the sensation, until I hadn’t been able to stop from writhing on the bed and grinding my pussy against his hand while I’d screamed out my pleasure.

      “What’s up, Carinna?”

      My breathing coming too fast, I glanced over at Ryan, aware he’d spoken but not sure about what. “Huh?”

      “You calling or what?”

      I СКАЧАТЬ