What She Needs - Lacey Alexander [85]
“Hold your hair up higher so I can do your shoulders,” Chrissy instructed, and as Jenna did so, she sensed Chrissy shifting behind her, turning more directly toward her back.
She rubbed Jenna’s shoulders just as sensuously, her fingertips curling over Jenna’s collarbone—and Jenna began to feel it in her breasts.
That was when Chrissy rose up onto her knees and extended her massaging motions down onto Jenna’s chest. “You don’t want to burn here, either,” she said as if the move were perfectly natural, and Jenna bit her lip, pulled in her breath. Until finally Chrissy’s fingers—sporting a French manicure—stretched directly down onto the bared inner curves of Jenna’s tits.
She sucked in her breath as Chrissy worked the warm lotion into her soft flesh. Oh. My. It felt good. On her breasts. And in her bikini bottoms. She could barely reply to Chrissy’s last comment, finally murmuring, “No . . . I don’t.” The words came out whispery, and her pussy tingled, yet she still remained unsure if she was into this. The physical response was certainly there and it would be easy to let herself enjoy some simple pleasure in such a sexy setting, but . . . something held her back.
Maybe because it felt simple right now, but she knew once things got started, it would be more complicated. There would be expectations, reciprocations. Things she wasn’t sure she’d enjoy as much as these soft, easy touches.
Just then, another woman entered the area, and when Jenna turned to look, Chrissy automatically pulled her hands away. Jenna’s heart skittered, as if they’d been caught at something.
But the new girl on the scene seemed completely unconcerned with them and looked almost frighteningly confident. The shapely, mocha-skinned woman wore a bright orange tropical-print bikini, cut very narrow and possessing much less fabric than either of theirs. She appeared to be bi-racial, and she was beautiful in a severe, almost intimidating way. Taking the lounge chair on the far side of the pool, she said in a slightly husky voice, “Hi, I’m Natasha. Do you mind if I take my top off?”
And as Jenna tried not to choke on her own saliva, Chrissy calmly replied, “No, of course not. This is the Hotel Erotique, after all.”
“Thanks,” Natasha said just as casually, reaching for the tie behind her neck.
And it was at that exact moment that Jenna saw something—oh God, it was Brent—in the bushes! Just his eyes, actually, beneath the brim of a baseball cap, but it was undoubtedly her sexy—and devious—guide!
She drew in her breath, her gaze locking on his. That sneak! This wasn’t a casual afternoon at the Grotto, after all—it was another fantasy! Just one she wasn’t privy to.
How dare he—not telling her! She flashed an irritated, scolding look in his direction.
But, upon moving slightly more into view, he only flicked his glance playfully back and forth between her and Chrissy a few times, then raised his eyebrows and mouthed the word, Hot—which left her more amused than angry, despite herself.
And then more . . . aroused. Because she could instantly see that he wasn’t just teasing about it being hot. His gaze darkened on her and all playfulness faded as she understood he wanted this to happen: her and Chrissy.
Natasha was still busy shedding her top, and Chrissy was saying, “Wow, those are magnificent,” which drew Jenna’s attention briefly from Brent to take in the dark-skinned girl’s enormous boobs, which were, she had to admit, pretty magnificent. But then she turned her gaze back to the man in the foliage, still unnoticed by the other two girls, who were now discussing the merits of Natasha’s breasts.
She cast him another reproachful look, narrowing her eyes, and in reply, he simply grinned, shrugged, and spread his hands as if to say, What’s the big deal?
She crossed her arms. You know what the big deal is.
His smile grew more