“Yes, Mr. Jackson you are sexy. Now please,” I continued in the sexiest purr I could muster while seated on a rotting log and dealing with scratchy plant sticks poking my back, “Shut up and kiss me.”
The soft brush of his warm lips was a delicious promise, telling my body that if I could just get this guy naked and on top of me, bliss would be the next on my route.
With all that was going on, this was not a time to be subtle or ladylike. Still keeping my mouth on his, I climbed onto his lap, wrapped my arms around his neck, and wiggled my butt until that hard bulge between his legs hit me right where I needed it.
Thank God, he got the idea.
He reached for my neck, angling my head to deepen the kiss.
Ahhh.
I sagged against him and kissed him back like, well, like a girl who hadn’t had any for a while (quite a while) and was suddenly finding herself in the arms of the hottest man she’d ever seen in person.
You get the idea.
And if I do say so myself, judging by the way his hands zipped down to cup my breasts and by the way he keep pressing that rock hard bulge against me, Jack was enjoying himself as well.
Maybe it had been a while for him too. Considering the spit that was frothing from Lorraine’s snarling mouth that seemed more than likely.
Poor man.
But I was more than ready to help him get back to the land of the sexually active. To move things in that direction, I grabbed the bottom of my t-shirt, broke away just long enough to whip it over my head, then leaned in to reconnect our mouths as I whipped it to the ground. But Jack had caught sight of the lacy number holding up my 36 C’s and was staring at my breasts like preteen staring into the video game store window.
I guess the bra was a bit of a surprise since it was covered by a ratty, black Nine Inch Nails concert T.
“White lace,” he said, in a reverent whisper, raising his hands to touch the fabric.
Caught off guard by the gentle way he was tracing the delicate edges of my bra with his fingertips, and the way that soft touch gave me shivers in places of my body I didn’t even know existed, I tried a joke.
“What else who you were to a wedding.”
“Wedding?” He blinked. “Oh right.”
And like that, it all came rushing back, filling the space between us. I guess maybe it was a good thing, because that way when we heard Madame Asia’s shriek, coming from only about thirty yards away, we weren’t all that surprised—and I had the sense to hop off Jack, grab my shirt, and cover up that life altering, white lace bra.
Jack grabbed my hand, pulling me toward the sound. About the time we almost reached her, he shoved me behind a bush so filled with sharp branches it made the sticks by the log seem like feathers.
About ten yards away, Madame Asia was stumbling across a clearing, her platform heels sinking into holes as she tried to straighten her gorgeous, blonde wig as she ran.
Spooner was a few yards behind her, clutching a red wad of fabric in one hand and a joint in the other. “The dress is fine.”
That stopped her.
“Fine?” she growled, planting her hands on right above her purple silk garter belt. “The dress is fine?”
Spooner stepped up to Asia and held out the red wad in his hand. “It’s almost as sexy as you, sugar. Now please, put it on.” He glanced over his shoulder, then turning back to Asia added, “Now please, hurry up.” Pointing to a tiny lump moving toward them all, he hissed, “He’s coming. And I promised him—”
“I know what you promised him,” Asia hissed back. Then she snatched the dress from Spooner, shook it out, and started pulling it over the mass of ringlets covering her head.
Jack leaned in to whisper, “Remember you were asking about that guy on the other end of the phone?”
Annoyed that I had to ignore the yummy way his hot breath caressed my ear, I grumbled back, “The one you were talking to right before you so rudely threw my phone out the window?”
He ignored my complaint and pointed to a tiny man rolling up onto the scene. “It looks like you’re about to meet him.”
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