Page 31 of Wicked Pickle

“Nice.” I grab her ass. “How can we get that treatment?”

She whisper-laughs. “Bailey’s sunburn peeled for a month.”

I squeeze her delicious flesh. “Worth it.”

A loud squeaking sound makes me peek without thinking. Nope, shouldn’t have looked. Rhett is all up in those skirts, and their hardcore plunging action is making the bench scoot along the hardwood floor.

Symphony smacks my arm. “Don’t watch!”

“Sorry, the sound made me look.”

She grabs my head and shakes her boobs.

I’m not arguing, but I ask, “Not self-conscious anymore?”

“I’m fine with my boobs.”

“Woman, I could make a whole art piece of the glory that is your ass.”

Her eyes take in my face as if sure I’m lying. “You’re gunning to stick it in me, aren’t you?”

“Maybe.”

“You’ll have to wait your turn.”

The room slowly quiets down. We hear the shift of the bench.

“Now I have to pee,” Bailey says.

“Can’t disturb your routine,” Rhett says.

“No UTIs,” Bailey says.

Symphony and I glance at each other, trying not to laugh again.

“T to the M to the I,” Symphony whispers.

I lean in close. “Do you pee after sex?”

“Not routinely.”

I run my hands along her body. Bailey and Rhett will leave soon, and we can continue where we left off.

“The bathroom’s through here,” Bailey says. “Why don’t you go back to the reception, and I’ll meet you there in a moment?”

“Okay, my love.”

There’s the sound of zippers and fabric rustling. Then the door opens and closes.

Symphony peeks around her side of the screen, pushing my hands away. “She’s gone into the bathroom. I only have a minute.”

Before I can argue with her to wait, she darts out from our hideaway and returns with her clothes. “Thank goodness they were too busy to notice my dress on the floor in the dark.”

She straps into the bra. I hold out her skirt for her to step into. When she’s zipped, she shakes her head at the ripped panties. “You’re a rogue.”

“Like in Victorian England?”

“Rogues are the same in every century.”

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