She frowns and purses her lips as she thinks. I love watching her when she’s working through an issue. Her face says it all, and it makes me laugh. I press my lips together to keep from laughing because now is not the time to find humor. No matter how adorable she is being.
“We kissed and we’re still friends,” she points out.
I nod. That’s true.
“What if we just make out? Like, we go one level further. Clothes on, no oral stuff, just a good old-fashioned make-out session,” she suggests.
I lick my lips, wanting so badly to pull up that dress and taste her.
“OK,” I say slowly. “What does an old-fashioned make-out session consist of, exactly?” I ask.
She cocks her head to one side. “Kissing and we can touch each other, but clothes stay on,” she states like she’s declaring the rules for a board game.
“But I can touch you anywhere?” I ask with a raised eyebrow.
Her cheeks pinken, and she nods. “I think we can still be friends if it’s just for one night and we aren’t seeing everything. Then if we go back to just friends, it’s not like we’re envisioning stuff every time we’re together,” she says. “And plus, we’ve had a few drinks, so…”
I pause. “You aren’t drunk, are you?”
She shakes her head. “No, but I sort of wish I were,” she whispers.
“Why?” I ask.
“Because I’m nervous,” she admits.
I grab the remote for the lights and turn them off. Darkness surrounds us. I can just make out the laughter of our friends who are still out by the pool.
“Come here,” I demand, and then add, “Please.”
She slowly moves over, and I grab her hips, pulling her onto my lap, her knees on either side of my thighs. Sitting like this, she’s nearly eye to eye with me.
“Where do we start?” I ask.
She leans forward and presses her forehead to mine. She smells so good. Her vanilla-scented perfume is mixed with the salty ocean air. I cup her face, and she presses her hands to my chest.
“Let’s pick up where we left off in the car,” she suggests. Her breath washes over my lips as she speaks. I can practically taste the mojito she drank, and I want to devour those luscious lips.
“You don’t have to ask me twice,” I say with a grin as I press my lips to hers.
Our kiss turns frantic within seconds. Our lips touching, our tongues tasting. I move my tongue in and out of her mouth, trying like hell to show her exactly what I want to do to her.
I trace my hands along her legs to her hips and push her down against my growing erection, pressing it up against her center.
“Holy fuck, Viking, is any part of you not enormous?” she whispers against my lips.
I grin. “Not that I’m aware.”
“I’m glad we’re only making out because I’d need a new vagina tomorrow if we did anything else,” she says.
I laugh. “I’d make sure you were ready for it. Don’t worry.”
“Such a gentleman,” she teases before rubbing herself against my linen trousers.
And fuck, she feels good. I can feel her heat against my dick, and he’s trying hard to come out and play. Thank God I have on underwear or he’d have poked right out of my pants.
She groans again as she continues to kiss me and rub against me.
My hands travel up her dress and massage her breasts through the thin material. She’s not wearing a bra, and holy fuck are her breasts perfect. Her nipples pebble under my thumbs, and I pinch them. She moans again.
