“There you are! We’ve been looking all over for you! Spit that thing out and let’s get to the party!”
When I turn my head, I see Kasha and Bobby Jo, both sporting huge grins. Simon curses and takes a step back just as Henley and Davis join them. “Fuck,” he blurts, yanking his pants up. “Don’t you know how to knock?”
Kasha laughs. “You’ve been here five minutes. I didn’t think you’d already be fucking.”
“We weren’t!” I cry. Yeah, as I get up from my knees and try to fix my hair.
“Sucking. Fucking. Whatever.” Kasha shrugs. “Save it for later.”
“Semen is an excellent source of protein,” Bobby Jo speaks up. “It’s also good for your skin if you rub it on.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” I reply while Henley and Davis laugh their asses off. “Go on, we’re right behind you.”
Laughing, they shut the door behind them.
“Next time, we lock the door,” Simon groans.
I can’t help the chuckle that escapes. “They saw you come.”
He smirks at me. “They saw you swallow.”
“Nah, from where they were standing, they saw your face, not mine. And you were all, ‘Oh, yes, Lydia, this is the best blow job I’ve ever had. Please don’t ever stop.’”
“They’re going to hear me spank your little ass if you don’t stop.” His voice holds a warning tone threaded through his amusement.
“And your head was tilted back, your mouth was open with a little drool leaking out.”
“You’re asking for it.”
“It kind of looked like Homer Simpson when he says, ‘Mmm Donuts.’”
The room tilts as I’m thrown over his shoulder, and his hand cracks across my ass. I hear the hoots of my friends when we enter the hall, and he smacks my ass again before placing me on my feet.
“Brute,” I mumble, hoping my face isn’t as red as it feels. He could’ve let me cool down a minute after being caught with a dick in my mouth, but I guess I asked for it.
“For the rest of our stay, knock before you enter. Or better yet, assume we’re naked and don’t want company,” Simon announces.
“Trust me, man. That was nothing I wanted to see,” Davis laughs.
Shaking his head, Simon says, “We all know that wasn’t kinky enough for you, Davis.” He turns to Henley. “You’re a hell of a wife. Not everyone would wear a strap-on for a guy.”
“I don’t take it up the ass!” Davis insists.
Laughter fills the hall, and I’m struck with a sense of déjà vu. I’ve been here before, with these same people, laughing at the same thing. Except this time, I’m not alone and miserable. I have Simon. And while that thought kind of terrifies me, it also fills me with a warmth I haven’t felt in a long time.
I’m going to take my friends’ advice to just go with it and have a good time.
CHAPTER 11
SICILY
Panicking? No, I’m not panicking. Anderson and I are about to be in the same place for an entire weekend. No big deal. He’s probably going to expect normal sex at some point. And…I’m on the cusp of breaking down and asking Kasha about it.
Desperate is not a good look on me.
Okay, so maybe I’m panicking a little.
I’m also curious what the hell those freaky dolls are that sit lined up on top of the dresser on Bobby Jo’s side of the room. I was only gone for an hour to explore the grounds and reacquaint myself with this place—also to panic in private for a minute—and Bobby Jo has occupied her side of the room like she’s moving in.
Two full size beds are separated by a small nightstand. And a dresser sits on each side, ready to accommodate guests. I’m not sure why Bobby Jo insisted on sharing a damn room with me instead of taking another empty one, and now I’m totally creeped out by the twelve creepy dolls on her dresser.
They’re small, stuffed, burlap figures with button eyes and sewn shut mouths. Why do they have vaginas painted on? I’ve never seen that before.
Holy…shit…
Is that human hair that the mouths have been sewn shut with?!
A full body shudder wracks me as I take a stumbling step back. Sure, that’s not going to give me nightmares or anything.
Bobby Jo walks in, and I open my mouth to ask her what the hell is up with the freak show dollies, when she pulls out a long needle. And…stabs the painted-on vagina of one.
“What the actual fuck?” I hiss, staring in horror while she stabs the next one in the line.
“Voodoo dolls for old rivals. These are for the women I had to compete with for a man’s attention. I try to give them a good crotch stab three times a day. Four times if I’m feeling particularly irritable. Makes me feel a little better about life,” she says conversationally, making it seem like it’s what all the cool kids are doing these days.