Irritation simmered in his gaze, as he glowered at her, struggling not to lose his temper. “I already told you that she was on the floor looking for her contact. I was just about to get down there and look too when you walked—”
“Look, Lucas. Your sex life is none of my business. But just so you know, most women don’t usually want to go out with men who change girlfriends as regularly as he changes his socks.” She dropped her gaze to her desk as she reached for the paper he’d brought to her. “Thank you for the itinerary, but unless there is something else, I really need to get back to work.”And just like that he was dismissed. He stood there staring at the crown of her head, as fury whipped through his veins. She was barely civil toward him, but she’d never been outright rude. For a year and a half he’d been on the receiving end of her cold shoulder, and while he could definitely take everything she dished o“How is it possible to have two back to back worst days of yourlife,” Yolanda moaned as she stared in horror at the clothes in her suitcase. She was going to kill her best friend, Jasmine Michaels. She wanted to cry as she held up a crimson red top that dipped to an obscenely low V in both the back and the front.She had half a nerve to pick up the phone and curse Jasmine out for swapping out her conservative attire, for this trashy crap that her best friend called clothing. Jasmine was lucky that she was exhausted from the long flight and too tired for a squabble with her or else she would have picked up her cell phone and woken her ass up at one o’clock in the morning back in New York. She should have known Jasmine would pull something like this when her best friend spent far too much time complaining about her casual outfits as she sat on her bed while she packed.It all made sense now. She’d naively believed Jasmine had dropped by to comfo
He stood there rooted in his spot as he slid his gaze over her. She was almost completely unrecognizable, dressed in a pair of fitted jeans, with tears in strategic places, and a sheer ivory top that she might as well have been naked under, for all the good her low cut, mid drift baring tank top did to cover her lush, full breasts. She sat at the bar, her fingers curled around the stem of an empty wine glass as she leaned into a good looking middle aged man, dressed in what Lucas knew to be a tailormade Armani suit. Jealousy whipped through him when she threw her head back and laughed at something the man said, her unbound hair brushing against her back. He had never once seen her laugh with such abandon, but here this stranger, whose eyes had not once made it to her face, was being treated to the sweet sound of her hushed giggle. When the man’s hand settled on her leg and began to stroke far too close to that secret place between her thighs, he lost it.With angry
Despite the anger that radiated from the kiss, she instantly responded, openly yielding to him as she arched into him, and allowed him complete access to the moist heat of her mouth.With deft movements, he settled her on the bed and covered her with his body. As some of his anger flowed out of him, his actions became gentler. He leisurely probed inside her mouth with his tongue as he tasted the sweet honey of her lips.Twining her arms behind his neck, she groaned into his mouth, as she parted her thighs and rocked her hips upwards, to grind her pussy against his lengthening cock.He dragged his mouth from hers and stared into her lust drunk face for just a second before he lowered his head to the crook of her neck.Sweeping his tongue in the hollow space, he tasted her silky skin, dragging throaty moans from her lips as he pressed his bulging erection against her core.He devoured her with his lips as he placed a trail of wet kisses along her throat. Grasp
“Evita, can you take one last walk for us so that I can get a better look at the material?”Yolanda glared at Lucas who stared transfixed by the tanned and gorgeous Brazilian model who’d already taken three runway passes in front of Lucas wearing nothing but a skimpy black bikini.“Evita, we’re done with you. Thank you,” she snapped, a little shocked by the venom she heard in her voice. Apparently she wasn’t the only one as she glanced around the room to see designer Leonora Vatrelli wearing a stunned expression, along with Evita. The only person who didn’t look surprised was Lucas. He sat there wearing a self-satisfied smirk which she ached to slap off his face.They were now on their third and final designer for the day, the third and final time she’d had to sit through a collection showing where he openly flirted with the stunning models while he basically ignored her.She was jealous. Plain and simple. Jus
She knew he was going to kiss her, and she had plenty of time to pull away before he did, but she didn’t. Instead, she parted her lips, allowing him access inside her mouth as she hungrily tasted him.This was a mistake—kissing him, being alone with him in her room,but she couldn’t find the will to push him away. His admission had takenher by surprise. She’d never expected him to acknowledge his behavior, let alone apologize for it. She’d also never expected him to accuse her of being jealous, but there was no point in denying it because they both knew the truth. She’d been jealous. And the only reason why she was even jealous was because she did indeed want him. Had for a long time, and apparently she was just too tired to fight it any longer.She’d expended so much of her energy pushing him away for so long that it was almost a relief to give in. In the back of her mind, she heard the protest that she didn’t wan
“Where are you going?”Yolanda glanced up from packing her clothes as Lucas ambled into her room dripping wet from his shower with a towel slung low on his hips. She released an inward groan as she stared at his chiseled body.She wanted to scream at her pussy—down girl. They’d spent all last night and most of the early morning burning up the sheets, not to mention the two times they’d played the horizontal tango as soon as they got back to the hotel after their meetings.“That’s what I was trying to tell you last night, this morning, and as soon as we got back here, but you always have a way of distracting me,” she said with a smile, before she turned her attention back to packing. “Since we only had two designers today I was planning to take an early flight back.”Crossing the room to stand beside her, his brows knitted together as he frowned. “Why?”She pushed down on the suitcase unt
She arrived yesterday evening to her apartment on ninety-fourth and third in the Upper East Side of Manhattan thinking maybe she’d misjudged Lucas. There was just something about his entire countenance as he left her hotel room earlier that day that made her question if she’d missed something very important.It wasn’t until the next morning that she realized she’d miss a lot,when a courier arrived and she opened the package to discover the custom sea green box and classic white bow that identified the gift as one from Tiffany & Co.A sense of dread gathered in her belly as she slowly undid the bow. She didn’t yet know what was inside, but she had a pretty good idea who it was from. Chris had never been particularly thoughtful when it came to gifts, or much anything else for that matter, which was one of the reasons why it hadn’t been hard to let him go. He was now a good friend, but that’s all he’d ever be. He was j
Lucas was exhausted by the time he got up to his office at eight o’clock that night. His flight had been delayed twice and the nasty turbulence had made it almost impossible for him to sleep.As he let himself in, he trudged past the deserted cubicles toward Yolanda’s office. All he really wanted to do was curl up in his bed and treat himself to a restful night of sleep. The last thing he wanted to do was go over one of the designer’s portfolios on a Thursday night, with the last person he wanted to see. But he had to. Dafina was expecting theirreport on her desk Friday morning before she left for a weekend trip toParis that afternoon. She couldn’t leave without that report if she was going to make a decision between the final two designers in time to start making preparations for the Spring line. In fashion, preparations for lines started months, sometimes years in advance, and they were already a month behind on the swimsuit component of th
I have about an hour to kill before I can go back to Eva. Walking this town from end to end would take all of ten minutes. I pause at the wine-tasting room, but there are too many tourists inside. Besides I’ll have to make the usual inane chitchat with one of the hospi- tality staff. “Is this your first visit to the Wine Country?” she’ll say, chipper as a Girl Scout. “Actually, my wife and I come up from San Francisco a few times a year, but not for the wine. We like to play our kinky Dom-sub sex game in your local country inn. Would you care to join us tonight?” I smile as I continue on down the street. If only it were that easy. Of course, bringing back another woman might be pushing Eva a little too far. This time. I pass a quaint tavern—everything is quaint here— and peek inside. Dim lighting, a few customers perched at the bar. Perfect. I take a table in a shadowy corner and order a glass of Frank Family Cabernet. You can’t get that by the glass in the city. The wine is deli
There’s an indeterminate span of time between asleep and awake. Those bleary moments, waves of thought washing over us as we struggle to gain or lose conscious- ness. Where dreams blur with reality, taking on aspectsand influence from each other.The shriek of an alarm clock is translated into the cries of some prehistoric flying creature chasing us through Elysian Fields. The scent of bacon spurs a vivid scenario of gorging ourselves on anything and every- thing within sight.The slow, rhythmic thrusts of a cock between swollen labia elicits dreams of multiple members in multiple orifices.This is how I awaken; gradually, with the dawning realization that at least one turgid member from myreveries is truly flesh and blood. Sliding between my thighs from behind as I lie on my side, body curled into the blankets surrounding me. A hand, presumably accompanying the penis in its adventures, is trailing feather soft over the curve of my breasts, fingers occa- sionally tweaking my nip
Let me tie you up?” he asked me, holding up the ropes so I could see them. At first I couldn’t take my eyes off them; they were slim and white and gorgeous. They were looped over one another and tied off beautifully in lengths with colored ends, so he could keep the lengths separate. I must have stared at those ropes in his hand for half a minute before I brought my eyes back to his and saw the wicked joy in them. Peter’s smile broadened to a grin. His blue eyes brightened. He knew he had me. He was fully dressed, and I was naked—very, very naked. I’d just gotten out of the shower, and I’d been thinking about him in there—thinking about what we might do when I got out of the shower and Peter took me to bed. I was already very turned on. He could see everything he wanted to see, I real- ized—in exquisite detail never before revealed. I’d just shaved, so he could see my sex. He could see the hot flush of arousal through my breasts and my face, see the stiffening of my nipples that
Ten more minutes, I thought, glancing around the carnival. Ten minutes and then I can get out of this nightmare and go for a drink. I hauled one of the milk cartons up in front of me, and began stacking the plastic rings from the Ring Toss. This was the last year I’d volunteered for the games. Next year, I’ll sell tickets or something that doesn’t involve snotty kids screaming because they didn’t win a plastic frog. The sky was several shades of amber in the wake of the setting sun. I loved summer. And despite the disaster of this year’s Ring Toss, I always looked forward to the annual Shriners Carnival. I always volunteered. The money went toward revitalizing the parks and play- grounds in the area, places I used to go to when I was a child. Every year held surprises, from the old friends who came back for the night, to the local celebrities who turned up in support. Last year, we had an Emmy Award winner perform an impromptu concert. This year, my surprise was the very reason I ne
It’s not much fun giving a blow job,” Taryn remarks over the noisy gush of heat hitting my hair. “AlthoughI think every lesbian feels that way, don’t you?”“Only if they can speak from experience,” I reply, wincing as Taryn continues to torture my tresses. Taryn winces, too—for an entirely different reason. “And I seri- ously doubt that the judges are going to inquire about my sex life, oral or otherwise, during the interview.”“Agreed.” She puts down the blow-dryer and picks up a hairbrush. “A better question would be: why did you get involved in beauty pageants?”I smirk. The answer is out of the question. I got involved in beauty pageants because I wanted to meet girls. I could care less about the sash or the cash or the crown that glitters like a dinner plate in an advertisementfor dishwashing soap. That doesn’t mean I don’t take pageantry seriously. It just means that I’m not in it to win it.I used to think pageants were sideshows, populated with aspiring anchorwomen who
Ihate being here.I hate sleeping in this bed, Clark’s marriage bed,sleeping on his wife’s side while she’s away on business and waking up face-to-face with the knickknacks and nail polish on her bedside table.And the baby oil! Why wouldn’t Clark have put that away before I came? Why the hell would I want to be reminded that he has sex with her too? More puzzlingly, why do I jump at every opportunity to stay the night?Well, that question has an easy answer: it’s the wake- up call that keeps me coming back. It’s his arms circling my body before the sun comes up, when I’m still warm with sleep. He kisses my shoulder, walks his fingers down my belly, and I’m sold. I’ll put up with any amount of heartache if it means getting fucked first thing in themorning.My pussy’s never wet when he finds it, so Clark burrows under the covers to turn me on in the most effi- cient way possible. Spreading my legs, he situates himself between them and dives at the apex of my thighs. I don’t know
Jason left for work the same way he always did, but instead of following his normal routine he came home two hours later and slipped back into the house.Sneaking through his own house like a criminal felt absurd, but he did it anyway.When his best friend told him he thought their wives were more than just friends Jason hadn’t believed it. Things like that didn’t happen in real life. So when Rose told him that Miranda was coming over that day to help her in the garden he knew what he had to do.As he creeps upstairs, he hears soft voices and sees that the bedroom door has been left ajar. He leans forward until he can see into the room. And there they are, Rose and Miranda together in bed.Jason watches them. He can’t help but appreciate how beautiful Rose is like this, her head thrown back, eyes closed and mouth open. Sure, he’s seen her like this before, but it’s not the same when he’s the one moving above her, when he’s focused on what he’s doing, what he’s feeling.Now he can j
Renata climbs the stairs from the dungeon, brushes aside the leather curtain, and looks around. Tonight she doesn’t need a fancy station. She only needs a quietcorner and a chair. This room will do nicely.She takes a seat against the wall. Like a lioness crouched by a watering hole, she watches the snack table across the room. People come, people go. Then her patience pays off. Vicki’s red latex minidress and stiletto ankle boots identify her. She’s trying to drink a Coke with one hand while holding a chocolate-chip cookie with the other. It’s awkward with the cuffs. Renata strides over and presses herself against Vicki’s back.“When’s your break over?” “Now.” Vicki lowers her snack. “Good. Keep the cookie.”A hand on Vicki’s biceps, Renata propels her across the room. Vicki’s ass and boobs jiggle under the low-cut latex. The ankle cuffs mean she has to shuffle quickly to keep up. By the time they get to Renata’s chair, Vicki’s breathing hard.Renata drops Vicki’s arm and sits,
He was young and his cock was as hard as a steel rod. No foreplay was necessary. He took off his clothes and, bang: hard and ready. Not like your sad, little caged protuberance. I can’t imagine you were ever like that, were you?” She shook her head in mock sadness as she gazed at Bob. He knelt, naked, with the exception of the chastity device affixed to his cock andballs. He yawned, silently. “Does this bore you?”“Sorry, Ma’am.” It wasn’t so much that it was boring, it was that it was just stories. He needed more.“And then today, at lunch, I seduced a UPS guy. All tan and muscles, he looked great in his uniform shorts but he looked even better out of them. Nine-inch cock, at a minimum. Straight and thick. And boy could he eat.Someone had trained that boy well. I had three orgasms before we even got to the actual fucking. I thought about you—stuck here, cleaning the bathroom or the kitchen or whatever it was you were doing.”“Look, Barbara,” Bob stood up. “I just don’t think th