Clothes had begun disappearing.
And so had inhibitions.
Topless women were lounging in the gin fountain and one guy was sitting on the edge with his tie loosening and, yup, nuzzling on a nipple.
Holy shit.
An orgy in New York City.
He stared down at his feet and realized he was dancing. Nope. He didn’t dance. But apparently, he was tonight.
Lucy had ditched her suit jacket and her white figure-hugging dress showed off all her best assets as she danced seductively in front of him. It was clear she wasn’t wearing any underwear.
Old Fletcher might have lifted her onto a table, shoving up the designer fabric, and licking her pussy. Okay fine,Drunk Tonight Fletcherwas also thinking that.
Why not... Olivia didn’t want him anywhere near her pussy anymore.
And Lucy was gorgeous. There was no doubt about it. Long, dark hair fell to the middle of her back in glossy waves. She was rich, successful, and Italian.
What was not to love?
Not love... fuck love.
Lust.
Desire.
All those safe words.
Fucking love. He wasn’t going near that shit again.
He was better off with a Lucy, not an Olivia.
And fuck Olivia and her damn big mouth.
Hot mouth.
Her wet, tight mouth.
Were mouths tight?
Perhaps only if you had a big cock.
It was a good question.
Fuck... he really shouldn’t have drunk gin.
His head spun as he reached out for Lucy, and she twirled in his arms. Together they moved in time with the fast beat and sang, throwing their heads back. Then laughed at their terrible voices.
“See. Gin is fun.” She laughed and he couldn’t help but grin.
A gin grin.
Oh, dear God.
Even his internal jokes were getting bad.
“It’s dangerous,” he replied, shaking his head.