Page 78 of Frisco

Fuck it. “Two couples fucking,” I announced.

His eyes widened, snapping to my face.

“Three blow jobs.”

His gaze smoldered again, darkening. He took a step toward me.

My voice dropped low. “Eight guys did a train on a girl out there.”

He moved even closer. Almost touching me. I could feel the heat of his body.

“She seemed to enjoy it,” I added.

I held his gaze, my head tipped all the way back now.

“My sister and her new man were doing things too. Right next to me.” I took a deep breath. “I’m not drunk, Shane. I want to fuck.”

His eyes? Instant black.

He reached for me, but I moved first. My hand went to his chest, and I dropped to my knees. My mouth watered. I’d never wanted to do this. Ever. Not once in my life.

I did for my husband, but rarely. On holidays. Birthdays. It was for him.

But this time, I reached for Shane’s pants—unbuckling them, sliding down the zipper.

I reached in and found his cock. This time it was for me.

I’ll process all of that later, I told myself as I sucked him into my mouth.

Then I was moving over him.

In. Out.

I deep-throated him.

Licked him.

Tasted him.

Circled his tip.

I stroked him as I slurped like he was a lollipop.

He watched me the whole time, enraptured. He seemed to be holding his breath.

Then I took all of him in again, all the way down my throat. As far as I could take him. I moaned, my sounds stifled around him. Then I braced myself, sinking down on my knees, and I grabbed his hips.

He reached down, taking my hair, and I tried to nod, telling him what I wanted.

He eased in, slow.

I moved farther down, finding a good sitting position, and I tried opening my throat even more.

He eased out. Slowly again.

Yes. I wanted him to do this.

Back in, but he was going too slow.

---