“This?” Dallas’ hand swept over Quinn’s breast,
cupping it lightly. She brushed her thumb over the nipple and
Quinn’s back arched while red hot bolts of pleasure throbbed
through her at the touch. Even above clothes, it was glorious.
“The grapefruit,” she panted. “Is it perfume?”
“No.” Dallas swirled her thumb over Quinn’s nipple
again, pinching it lightly. It was so hard that it was probably
going to slice right through her clothing.
“Shampoo?”
“Nope.” She kept plying Quinn’s nipple until Quinn
was actually panting. How could such a small touch feel so
good?
“Conditioner?”
“It’s my deodorant,” Dallas laughed. “Not as romantic
as anything else.”
“It smells really good.”
Dallas leaned in and inhaled Quinn’s throat. “You
smell really good.”
That was all it took. Suddenly hands were roaming and
flying. They were kissing again, and while Quinn’s head swam
and that surreal feeling came swimming back through her,
their clothing disappeared. Somehow that ended up like a
sensual dance, not an ungraceful peeling away of items. No
one tripped or got caught in clothing and fell. Somehow they
managed to hardly break their kiss.
Quinn blinked when Dallas came up for air. She was
standing in her bra and panties, Dallas pressed up against her,
wearing the same. Goosebumps blossomed on her arms when
she stepped back and stared. She had to. Dallas looked
completely different now than she had at eighteen. Her breasts