ing peach.
Her juices are running down my face now, so fast I can’t even swallow them, and in the tub below her I’m jerking myself off. She reaches her orgasm before I do, her thighs slamming tight around my head, and I keep her going until she pushes me away. Then I rear up, fisting myself as I rub my cock head all over her slippery cunt.
“In me,” she whispers. “I just want to feel it.”
She clings to me as I snap my hips and find home. My cock has to fight through her swollen folds, and I think it’s gotta hurt her, but she’s writhing against me, begging for more. She comes again, just like that—bam bam—and the slick pull does me in. An electric pulse starts in my balls and shoots through me. I pull out just in time and jerk my cock against her belly, shooting white ribbons of jizz all over her abdomen, and watch it drip down the crease between her hip and her thigh, onto her bare, silky p*ussy
.
Before I can say sorry for being a dirty bastard or you’re welcome, maybe, since she’s whispering how good that was, she’s pushing me back into the tub. She falls on top of me, laughing and kissing my mouth, long drugging kisses that would make me hard again if I had anything left in the tank.
“We’re making a mess,” she finally says, peering over the edge of the tub.
I don’t f*ck
ing care. “Worth it,” I mutter, squeezing her ass. “Best bath ever.”
—twenty-three—
Alison
We’re heading out for dinner. Mostly because we need some fuel, but also because I’ve never been to England before, and I’d like to see more of it than just Scott’s bathroom. And his bedroom, although all we did in there was nap.
Getting dressed reveals a neat side effect of being shaved—I’m super sensitive.
Scott grins at me as I shift while we wait for the elevator. Lift, I remind myself. I like all the different words. They’re fun. England has shot to the top of my “run away from the family” destination list.
“Stop thinking about my bare p*ussy
rubbing against my lace panties,” I say under my breath. Then it’s my turn to smirk. Ha.
“Stop giving me hard-ons in public,” he mutters back.
We’re hopeless. It’s kind of gross, except that it’s our secret and it’s not gross between us. It’s…I had no idea it could be like this. This kind of stupid-happy? This is what other people must mistake for love.
If I wasn’t so jaded, I might do the same.
Good thing I’m totally cynical about such things.
The lift is old and creaky, and we joke about it, so when it stops with a bit of a bang and the doors open, I stumble out, giggling. Scott stops abruptly, and I right myself before looking around.
Ahead of us in the lobby is a woman.
She’s beautiful. Blonde and aristocratic. Well dressed. We have the same boots, I notice. And she’s staring at my boyfriend with a warm smile on her face.
I tell myself this isn’t one of those times when everything I’ve started to let myself believe is proven to be a total lie—like the time I caught my mother sneaking into my grandfather’s room in the middle of the night…or the time my oldest sister, who I idolized, gave the Vice President of the United States a blow job and filmed it for kicks…or the time my father murdered a call girl and got away with it—but I know this feeling.
I trust my gut. I’m twenty-f*ck
ing-years-old and I shouldn’t be this wise to feeling like the floor is about to give way beneath me, but here it is.
Hello, betrayal, my old friend. I was wondering when you’d break my heart again.
Scott puts his hand on my arm. “Ali,” he says, and I don’t know if it’s a warning or a plea.
“Scott,” the woman says. “I didn’t know you were back. I mean, I knew you must be returning, what with Jeff’s new plans, and the expansion—”
“Madelyn.” His grip on my arm tightens. “We were just heading out for dinner.”
“Delightful!” She claps her hands together. “Could we join you?”
No, my heart hammers.
“Unfortunately our reservation is just for two,” he says. It’s a lie. We don’t have a reservation. We don’t even know where we’re going to eat.
“Where are you going?” She gestures at the doorman behind her. “I’m sure Jacques can call and convince them to move us to a table for four.”
“Four?” Scott asks, and there’s an edge there that confirms I’m not going to like the rest of the conversation.
Madelyn smiles. “John is just parking the car.”
I dart my eyes back and forth between them. Who the hell is John?
“I see. Shame we’ll miss him.” Scott didn’t sound like that was a shame at all. Since when did he lie through his teeth like a socialite on the dating circuit? “But we really must be heading off.”
“No, no, it’s fine.” With a start, I realize that’s me. Scott stares at me and I colour. “If you want…”
“Yes,” Madelyn says, delighted. “Fine indeed!”