Sexy and Funny, Hilarious Erotic Romance Bundle (60 page)

He nudged the head of his cock against my ass. It did feel good, with all the nerve endings lighting up back there. I wanted him inside me there. I wanted to feel tight around him, squeezing him.

“There we go,” he said, and he nudged what felt like just the tip in. He moaned as my muscles reflexively squeezed around his shaft.

I saw my face in the mirror. I looked surprised! I guess I was surprised that it actually felt so good.

He grabbed my hips with both hands and moving in and out by tiny degrees, gradually going in all the way.

I felt his balls touch against my cheeks, so I knew he was all the way in. He buried himself in me.

He whispered, “How's that? Oh, you feel so good. Oh, you feel incredible.”

I whispered back, “That
is
good,” still mindful that we were only a curtain away from other people. I didn't care if they knew I was fucking Jed, but I didn't want anyone to come in and tear us apart. Not before I was finished.

“So good,” he said, kissing my shoulder blades.

He started to pump again, getting back into the same rhythm he'd had before.

Even though my clit was miles away from where he was, I felt the blossoming sensation of an orgasm beginning. I almost couldn't believe it.

I whispered back, “I think I'm going to come.”

He quickly moved a hand down in front, onto my clit, to help me along.

He started pumping me harder, his balls slapping against my ass. I was completely relaxed now, ready to take him.

“Do it,” I said. “Oh, do it.”

He was sweating now, his body glistening with effort, his eyes and face so beautiful in his pleasure. We made eye contact, and I saw his face contort as he came, a hot jet filling me with warmth. My eyes squeezed shut and I came like a door slamming, all of me seizing up and releasing.

He groaned with pleasure as my body shuddered on his cock.

I kept coming, pulsing with pleasure, for ages and ages.

I didn't want him to pull out of me. I wanted him to stay there until he was hard and ready to go again, but he eased himself out and reached for his jeans.

As we got dressed again, me back into the boring clothes I'd worn into the place, he said, “You really should get that dress.”

“I guess I should. It worked on you.”

He clinched me in a quick embrace and pecked me on the cheek. “It wasn't the dress, Becca, it was
all you
.”

Then he pulled the curtain back a crack, peeked out, and made a hasty retreat.

I put the dress on its hanger and gave myself a few minutes to fix my hair and wipe the happy sex-grin off my face before strolling out.

The woman at the counter was tight lipped.

Jed walked past us, saying, “Back from my smoke break.”

Then he disappeared into a room behind a door marked
Staff Only
.

The woman ringing me up raised an eyebrow at me and said, “Funny. Jed doesn't smoke.”

“Funny,” I said.

Back at my apartment, I had the same conversation on the phone with Deena about what she was going to wear.

At one point, she said, “This is so weird. I feel like we already had this conversation.”

We had, but I didn't tell her that. Instead, I said, “Hey, so I hear someone from our high school is going to be there tonight. Someone named Robert Lyle. Is he cute?”

Sadly, she didn't have any new information, since she'd forgotten all about seeing him. I should have at least gotten a peek at him, since it was my assignment from my fairy mother to seduce the guy, but I'd been a little flustered after boning some stranger in a back room.

I'd get a good look tonight, and possibly pump him for information. I'd seen the movie
Groundhog Day
about a zillion times. I had a pretty strong hunch my assignment wasn't going to happen on the second try, but then again, maybe it would.

Deena and I shared a cab to the art gallery, exactly as we had before. I don't like to drive my car if I'm drinking, and Deena doesn't drive at all. This time, I had a surprise for the rude cab driver who'd kept my change the previous time.

I had my exact fare ready for him, plus a reasonable tip.

He eyed me suspiciously, but didn't say anything.

We stepped into the art gallery, and I remembered to be careful and not bump into the server with the champagne.

Strangely, though, even though we'd left at the same time and taken the same cab and route, things were different inside the art gallery. The mousy waitress who'd spilled champagne on me the previous time wasn't standing in front of the door. Everything was just a little different, and that disturbed me. Why? Why was it different?

As I walked in and wove through the crowd, I felt a warmth rise up from my loins, and radiating into my hands. When I looked at my hands, I could have sworn they were glowing. Nobody else seemed to be noticing, though.

I bumped into someone, and glasses fell to the floor, shattering and spraying champagne. The mousy waitress whimpered and crouched down to grab for the glass, to cut herself all over again. We were in a different part of the gallery, but it was happening again. I put my hand on the woman's shoulder to stop her, and at the same time, the foxy man in the business suit grabbed her arm. A jolt passed through me and the heat from my hands went away from me, into her, and also into him. They both shimmered for an instant.

I stood back and watched as he calmed her down, and then the two of them got a broom and swept up the floor together, both of them making lusty eye contact with each other. I overheard him offer to take her to another room, to wipe the champagne off her legs, and she agreed.

Nobody else at the show was aware of this happening.

A woman laughed, loud, and I wheeled around to see the woman with the three white dogs, wearing the blue dress I'd helped her pick out earlier in the day.

Then it clicked.

I'd altered something by changing another guest's choice of dress, and now everything was different.

Deena was already off, talking to some other people she knew. I stood quietly observing everyone and noticed Mr. Suit disappearing through a doorway with Ms. Mousy.

My heart beat faster, and I followed them. The urge to follow, to watch, was overpowering. I could think of nothing else.

Quietly, I crept down the hallway. The room they were in had no door, and I lingered back in the shadows, where I could see them, but they couldn't see me.

He knelt, at her feet, and dabbed at her legs with the white bar cloth.

She leaned back and tilted her head up, and in her pleasure, she was breathtaking. No longer mousy at all, she radiated with sexual energy.

He pushed her legs wider and ran the cloth up the inside of her thighs, and then he dropped the cloth and touched her under her black skirt with both of his hands. As he kissed her on the soft flesh of her knees, I also felt his kiss. It wasn't just my imagination, either. I actually felt it.

He reached up and massaged her pussy through her panties, and I had to bite my fist to keep from crying out in pleasure.

I felt it as he pulled down her panties and licked her pussy. I even felt her hands, rubbing through his hair, urging him not to stop.

He stood, and she slipped her hand into his suit pants, and I felt that hard cock in my own hand. She knelt down to suck it, and I tasted it in my mouth, salty and fleshy, hot.

He put the tip of his cock into her opening and pushed himself in, and I felt it, that hot, salty cock filling me up. She leaned back against the only furniture in the room, the shelving unit, and he gave it to her, thrusting and grunting with pleasure, his suit pants down around his ankles, his bare bottom peeking out under his suit jacket.

Her face was radiant, beautiful. She wore no makeup, and yet she was so elegant, her eyes closed, her mouth half-open, panting and letting out sweet little “oh, oh, oh” sounds as he pushed into her.

As he had with me, he pulled away and turned her around.

I nearly clapped my hands together with glee. I so wanted him to put it in her ass. I'd had my very first taste of anal sex earlier that day, and I was eager for more.

Alas, he slipped back into her pussy, though that was still nice. He pumped her this way, getting harder and pumping faster. She leaned forward into the shelves and gripped the back of the shelf for support as he hammered into her.

Reaching around deftly, he massaged her hot nub until she reached climax, shuddering with more “oh, oh, oh” sounds as she slammed her butt cheeks back against him. He grimaced, pulled out, and gripped his cock in his hand as he fired his creamy load between her legs, arcing down to the floor.

I felt a double orgasm, from the one she had, and then even the one he had. Because I don't have a cock, I experienced it as this blissful glow, all over my skin, from the tip of my nose to my toes. I'd never had a skin-orgasm before, but I'd heard about it, perhaps at that meditation class, between talks about the yoni and its masculine counterpart, the lingum.

Mr. Suit guy put his lingum away in his pants, and Ms. Mousy got her panties back on. The two had an awkward exchange, both of them apologizing, saying they didn't know what had come over them.

I stared down at my hands, no longer glowing.

My whole body was still in the afterglow of orgasm, and I felt like a goddess, a sex goddess.

I scurried out of the hallway to save the two the embarrassment of realizing they'd been seen.

Out in the main space of the gallery, I made a bee-line for the refreshments. I've never smoked a cigarette in my life, and yet I found myself craving one at that moment. A glass of champagne would have to substitute.

I grabbed a glass and tipped it back.

A man approached me from the side, saying, “I can buy you a beer if you're that thirsty.”

I turned to him, smiling in embarrassment. “I didn't mean to chug that,” I said.

When I got a good look at him, I felt even more chagrin. Ooh, girls, he was handsome. He had thick, dark hair, dark eyebrows, and pale, cool gray eyes. Full, kissable lips. His nose was narrow and refined with a small bump on the bridge, and he wore glasses, nearly invisible with their thin frames.

He put his hand out. “You have a familiar face.”

“Becca Hodge. And… do I know you?”

He snapped his fingers and pointed at me, taking a step back. “Becca! It's me, Robert Lyle, from high school.”

“I remember,” I said, fibbing.

He shook his head. “You may remember me now, but you certainly didn't remember me back then.”

I detected more than a little hint of bitterness in his voice. His eyes flashed, and I knew.

I'd hurt him. In high school.

My head started to spin, and I remembered everything. Him, asking me to a dance. Me, telling him yes, and then laughing in his face. I was not a typically cruel person, not even in high school when so many people are cruel, but that one day, something evil had taken hold of me, and I'd taken pleasure in humiliating the young, geeky Robert Lyle.

I had been picked on earlier that morning, teased by the boy I liked. This happened shortly before I started dating my first boyfriend, when I was so ungainly, caught between childhood and adulthood and unsure of anything.

After that brief interaction, I'd forgotten all about Robert, all about him asking me on that date.

But by the look of him, he hadn't forgotten.

My voice caught in my throat, and I said, “Oh, Robert, I'm so sorry I laughed at you.”

He smiled and nodded. “Have another champagne. It's free.”

Then he turned and walked away.

Even though just moments before, I'd felt like a goddess, I now felt like a bag of shit.

I did take another glass of champagne, and I did drink it down. And the next one. And another.

The drinks numbed my pain.

It wasn't fair for Robert to still be angry at me over something I did over ten years ago. We were all stupid kids back then, we all did stupid things.

The idea of seducing him, as per my assignment, was the farthest thing from my mind. I just wanted to make things right.