What She Needs - Lacey Alexander [122]
“I want him to come in your mouth,” she said, undulating on him wetly. And everything inside him clenched at sharing this fresh, new dirty lust with her.
He sucked Zack with more vigor, and within seconds, Zack was thrusting, sliding his length roughly toward Brent’s throat. Jenna looked enthralled, growing more and more excited, and Brent only hoped Zack exploded before he did, since he was having a hard time holding back now.
He sucked harder, deeper. Felt dirty, dirty, dirty—all for sweet Jenna, with her, in response to her. She moaned, clearly entranced and on the edge herself. While, above him, Zack began to emit a low groan, murmuring, “Shit, yeah, almost, almost,” and Brent reached up to gently squeeze his balls.
“Hell yeah,” Zack bit off—then shot his come to the back of Brent’s mouth. Brent swallowed, again, again, taking it all in, his eyes shutting in the heat of the moment—after which he heard Jenna sobbing and knew she was coming on him, too.
Oh God, oh fuck—he couldn’t hold it in anymore, either, and just as Zack fired a last arc of semen into his throat, Brent erupted inside Jenna’s body, moaning around the erection filling his mouth.
Jenna could barely process all that had just happened. As Zack pulled his wet shaft away, she stared at Brent, thinking—Oh my God, I’ve never experienced anything so intense in my life. And she’d done it with him, and she knew, whether or not he’d admit it, he felt the same way. She’d seen it in his eyes, felt it in his kiss.
“Doing okay, honey?” he asked softly.
And that’s when it hit her—Oh Lord, I’ve just taken part in an orgy. A real, true-life, freaking orgy! But she had no regrets, because she’d been with Brent. And somehow that made everything—anything—okay. “Yeah, I am. I can’t believe it, but I really am.”
Yet she suddenly didn’t want to be here anymore. The rest of the room writhed in raucous abandon, but she felt . . . well, that she’d experienced the full measure of what she could here. “Can we take off, though? Go to your place or something?”
To her relief, he didn’t show the slightest reluctance. “Yeah, let’s go.” And a moment later, he was taking her hand, whisking her past the pulsing mass of bodies toward the door.
Once outside in the warm tropical air, they made their way to the nearby beach, where Jenna stopped to shed her period shoes. They walked hand in hand, Brent holding both their masks, until Jenna looked up at him to say, “Is it all right for Lord Sexingham to leave his own party?”
He let out a light laugh, looking as if the thought hadn’t occurred to him until now. “Not really, but they’ll get by without me.”
“I’m sorry to make you break so many rules,” she said.
He grinned down at her in the moonlight. “No you’re not,” he scolded. Then he stopped, dropped the masks to the sand, lifted his hands to her face, and kissed her for a very long time.
They lay in Brent’s bed, snuggling. Upon reaching his bungalow, they’d said little—both tired, she guessed—but they’d undressed each other very slowly, then wordlessly crawled beneath his sheets. She still wore her stockings, though, and she sensed that Brent especially liked them.
“Did I do okay at the masquerade?” she asked against his broad chest.
Above her, he let out a deep, throaty chuckle. “You have to ask, sunshine? You were fucking phenomenal.” Then he used one bent finger to lift her chin so that she met his gaze. “But this fantasy was about doing what you wanted, not what I wanted you to do. It was about total freedom.”
“Then it worked, because that’s exactly what I felt.”
As was so often the case, he looked pleased. “Good.”
“That said,” she reasoned, now that the excitement was over, “I’m not sure how this is going to