Abe’s grip on the tube increased dramatically and clear lube squirted into the air, as if he’d shot his load on his leg. His embarrassed grin was there and gone. “Premature lubrication.”
Janie released a low, throaty laugh.
“Jesus, this is f**king hot as hell.”
“Keep watching.” Clamping down on her anal muscles, she let go of the dildo base long enough to reach for her vibrator.
“You aren’t . . .” Abe swallowed.
“Oh, yes I am.” She carefully inserted the vibrator, holding her breath at the immediate feeling of fullness. “Now I could use a hand.”
Abe made that possessive growling noise. Using both his hands, he pulled out the vibrator and the dildo at the same speed until only the tips remained inside her. Then he pushed them in simultaneously.
“God.” Her back bowed. Her legs shook. Her arms shook. Her belly rippled. She’d never felt anything like that. “Do it again.”
But Abe, being Abe, did it his own way. He moved the vibrator and the dildo in opposition. Then in tandem. Teasing again and again.
Janie moaned, “Enough.”
“Don’t you wanna come?”
She looked at him. “I want to come with you. Always with you. Only with you.”
A feral look settled on his face. He removed the vibrator and crowded her until she was in the middle of the bed and he was between her legs. “The dildo stays in.” Abe slammed his c**k into her. Every thrust of his hips and his groin hit the base of the dildo. It felt as if Abe was f**king her with two cocks. She wrapped her legs around his waist and let herself go.
Abe f**ked her like a man possessed. When she couldn’t take another second of this raw pleasure, when she teetered so close to the brink, but couldn’t seem to reach it, he worked her clit, urging, “Come. Now. Take me with you.”
That did the trick. Janie screamed; the orgasm blasted her in waves of ecstasy. Her limbs twitched with each pulse and she finally believed the myth of the whole body orgasm.
Kisses on her cheeks and neck roused her. She blinked her eyes open and Abe smiled. “You have officially blown my mind. That was the sexiest”—he smooched her mouth—“hottest”—another smooch—“did I mention sexiest?”—another kiss—“thing I’ve ever seen. Thank you. You rocked me.”
“My pleasure.” She tried to stop her yawn, but failed.
“A little. Maybe we should rest up before I bring out the next object from my bag of tricks.”
Abe trailed his lips along her collarbone. “Should I even ask?”
“No. But a college boy like you is smart enough to know you’ll like it.”
Tonight was the night.
The lights were dimmed. Someone hung a disco ball on the ceiling; a kaleidoscope of lights bounced across every surface. “Sexy Back” blasted from the speakers. Renner wasn’t sure if his eyes were playing tricks on him, or if the ladies, who’d christened themselves the Mud Lilies, had actually brought in a portable stripper pole.
Sweet Jesus, give him strength.
“You ready?” he asked the kid.
Tobin’s eyes were enormous. “No. I’m not sure I’ll ever be ready.”
“That’s why we’ll hit the bar first. Come on.”
Renner inched along the wall. Tobin followed so closely they were practically holding hands. Given the size of the crowd, it was a miracle they reached the bar without enthusiastic revelers accosting them. He signaled to Denise for two beers and handed one to Tobin. “Drink up. Fast. Shit. Too late. Here they come.”
Garnet Evans approached first. Her green velvet suit was trimmed with a puffy red boa. Red, white and green-striped stockings stopped at the hem of her skirt, exposing four inches of saggy knee. She wore one red high-topped sneaker, one green high-topped sneaker. She’d also donned a pointed elf hat, to which she’d added a hook with a piece of mistletoe, so the mistletoe dangled in front of her face.
“I thought you boys were gonna chicken out.”
“No, ma’am,” Renner said. “We had to finish chores before we joined the festivities.”
Garnet set her hand on Tobin’s arm. “You clean up real good too. Dance with me, cowboy.” She plucked the half-empty beer bottle out of his hand and passed it to Renner without looking at him.
Tobin mouthed, “Help me,” as Garnet towed him onto the dance floor.
Huh-uh, buddy, you’re on your own.
Renner’s amusement was short-lived as Pearl Tschetter floated in front of him. Floated being the word, as she’d worn an outfit best described as a psychedelic butterfly run afoul of a metallic paint mixer.
“Mr. Jackson. I’ve been waiting for you.”
“I wanted to thank you allowing your fine resort to be used for hosting a community party. It’s a great turnout, don’t you think?”
“Yes, it is.” He estimated over two hundred people mingled in the dining room. “It’s the least I could do. I wanted to personally thank you and the other ladies who filled in over Thanksgiving.”
“We were happy to do it. Now as soon as you finish your beer, I expect you’ll dance with me.”
Not a question. He grinned. “Be my pleasure.”
Renner danced with Pearl. Twice. Then he was waylaid by Garnet, who claimed his next two dances. As he’d tried to sneak away to the bar, Tilda O’Toole intercepted him. She also sported an outfit that fell under the costume heading. Dressed like an angel, complete with diaphanous wings. But instead of a halo, red devil horns teetered on her snowy white head.
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