Page 48 of The VIP Package

My heart starts to race for some inexplicable reason. Maybe the way Lacy just licked Sybil’s fingertips. Maybe the way we all know why I’ve chosen this particular story.

If there’s been any question of whether I’m up for same-sex affection, I’m providing the answer right now.

“The girl had more experience than I did,” I continue, “so she went down on me first. I came my brains out and wanted to return the favor.”

“Mmm.” Lacy’s tongue darts out to catch the last dribble of strawberry juice. “Keep going, please.”

“I tried to,” I say, enjoying the audience as much as the original experience. “But as soon as I start fingering her, sheyelps and slams her legs together. Looks down at me like I’m nuts.”

“What?” Sybil’s appalled. “What was the problem?”

I take a sip of my wine. “She points to my hand and says, ‘You can’t finger me with those fucking talons.’ I hold up my palm and wiggle what’s left of my wedding manicure. “I’d gotten my nails done the day before, and I was so proud of growing them out.”

“Ouch,” Lacy says, nodding. “I get it, though.”

“I wanted to get it, too.” I grin and help myself to a strawberry. “So I went and grabbed the clippers, and she sat there and watched me cut every last one of them.” I still remember the trembling anticipation. Her sweet, breathy moans as I slid three freshly clipped fingers inside her and suckled her sweet little clit.

Lacy leans down to sweep hair off my face. “Did you get her off?”

“Yep.” Satisfaction rolls through me. “Learned a lot about my own body, being with a woman.”

“Amen to that.” Sybil brushes something off my shoulder. I don’t see any lint or a bug, so maybe she’s making excuses to touch me. “I learned the hard way to always opt for the Pride manicure.”

“Pride manicure?” I’ve never heard of that.

Lacy laughs and flutters her fingers in front of me. “Index and middle finger kept nice and short, baby.” She plucks a berry from the box and holds it up. Sybil opens her mouth and Lacy pops it inside. Sybil heaves a blissed-out sigh and a warm pulse of need throbs between my thighs.

Is this turning them on, or are they used to this much sexually charged banter? They must see hundreds of unclothed women. They live, eat, sleep, and breathe sexuality.

Am I alone in aching for more? More gentle caresses, or maybe a chance to recall what it’s like to kiss lips so unbearably soft.

Lacy catches me watching and smiles. “Want some?”

“Um—”

“A berry.” Lacy smiles like she knows that’s not what I’m aching for. Leaning forward again, she plucks a plump fruit from the basket. “Open for me.”

My heart starts to race as Sybil’s warm fingers coast down my spine. “They’re so juicy,” she murmurs, her lips stained with berry. “You really should taste one.”

I nod as my mouth goes dry. Sybil’s breasts areright there, just inches away from my mouth. So is the strawberry Lacy’s dangling by the stem just in front of me.

“Yes, please,” I manage, my voice slipping out husky and soft. Parting my lips, I wait without breathing.

“Good girl.” Lacy leans over, touching my cheek as she feeds me the berry. Long lashes flutter as her thumb skims my bottom lip. “Nice, hmm?”

“Delicious.” There’s a kettledrum pounding in my chest and a slick, achy heat in my core. I press my legs together, hungry for friction. For relief that won’t come just from flexing my thighs.

Lacy’s thumb traces my bottom lip. “You got a little juice right here.”

“Where?” My tongue darts out, wetting my lip and the side of her thumb.

“God, that mouth.” Lacy leans closer, hazel eyes searching mine. “May I kiss you, Camille?”

My breathless reply sounds like more of a squeak. “Yes.”

Unfolding her flawless bronze legs, she stretches out in the space right beside me. I roll to face her, turning my back to Sybil for now. I lie with my nose touching Lacy’s as she places a hand on my hip. Her breath warms my skin with summertime heatand the scent of fresh strawberry pie. Slowly, gently, her palm strokes my hip.

“You have beautiful eyes, Camille.”

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