about getting
married. No fucking way. He wasn’t even dating anyone seriously at the moment.
After living in a household with two brothers and a sister, the frat house during
college, and roommates after graduating, he was enjoying some solo time. It
didn’t mean the place had to look bad when he brought guests home.
He chose a new pair of jeans and a black polo shirt, and
decided to go commando. The denim rubbed against his cock, adding a nice
friction. He adjusted himself. Maybe the ladies would get a bit of a surprise
if they unwrapped this package.
Yeah, right. Keep dreaming. Although it never hurt to set
goals.
At 6:20, a knock sounded on the door with room service
delivery. He popped open the champagne and had it on ice, and added a few
strawberries to the champagne flutes. He could do classy. Ten minutes later, a
flurry of giggles floated down the hallway, followed by an overly loud “shushing”
right outside.
His company had arrived.
Breasts. Those were the first things that caught his
attention when he opened the door. Two perfect sets. He glanced up into
matching smiles. In the five years since he’d last seen them, they hadn’t aged
at all.
Desiree bounced in first, throwing her tits against him.
Umm, her arms around him. “Oh my God! What are the odds we’d all be here at the
same time?”
Each jump resulted in playful corresponding movements. Her
low-cut shirt didn’t hide an inch of cleavage.
“Just crazy,” he said. Her hair smelled like flowers, not
overwhelming but noticeable.
Over her shoulder, he grinned at Sherrie and raised his
eyebrows as if to ask, “Is she always this crazy?”
She returned his smile. “Good to see you, Nate.”
Desiree released her hold on him. “Oh, so sorry. I was so
excited. You remember Sherrie, right?”
How could he forget? She might have been the quieter of the
two, but she was an equal stunner. While Desiree didn’t hesitate to partake in
bathroom blowjobs, Sherrie had hung with the sorority sisters more, and then
got a long-time boyfriend. Some blowhard he didn’t remember the name of. Didn’t
matter. He checked her ring finger, and it was clear. So she wasn’t married, or
wasn’t wearing.
“Oh course I do.”
He hugged her for good measure, and her breasts pressed
pleasurably against his chest. He told his little head to stay chill and not
get all happy quite yet. Chicks didn’t appreciate that type of attention as
soon as they walked into a guy’s hotel room.
“Come on in,” he said, ushering them inside. He’d forgotten
how much they looked alike, as if it was more a figment of his imagination—true
sorority sisters. Both were blondes, but while Desiree’s hair was platinum and
flashy, Sherrie’s was more honey-toned.
“Look at this place!” Des said. She placed her purse on the
couch and did a spin. “It’s huge. You must be doing quite well for yourself, Nate.”
“I can’t complain. It’s not bad to travel when you get to
put it on your expense account.” He moved toward the bar. “Can I offer you two
a drink?”
They exchanged a look and Sherrie nodded yes. “We’d love
one. From this spread of goodies, I’d think you were trying to keep us in
tonight…”
Her words trailed off, leaving the meaning open. She rubbed
his shoulder, a sense of familiarity between them.
“Who, me?” he said. “Well, with you two beautiful ladies,
would you blame a guy for trying?”
“You might not need to try all that hard,” Desiree said.
He sucked in a breath and poured the champagne. The bubbles
built up and threatened to overspill. “Drink fast,” he said.
Desiree sucked at the bubbles and giggled. She came up with
a mustache of foam. She licked it off and he watched.
Had she said what he thought she did? It couldn’t be that
easy. He hit play on his iPhone, and some light music streamed over his travel
speakers.
Nate handed Sherrie a flute, and sat between them on the
couch.
“To old friends.” Desiree raised
Grace Burrowes
Pat Flynn
Lacey Silks
Margo Anne Rhea
JF Holland
Sydney Addae
Denise Golinowski
Mary Balogh
Victoria Richards
L.A. Kelley