Slippery When Wet: A Novel (Zane Presents) (4 page)

Then, after a series of short, jerking thrusts, it was over. He had cum.

And I was left teetering on the edge of an orgasm of my own, my pussy whimpering and pulsing for release. All I needed were a few more deep strokes and I would have spurted a stream of hot juices. But Maurice had already slipped out of me, rolling over onto his side, then through heavy-lidded eyes, telling me goodnight as he pulled the covers up over him. There was no half-hearted kiss on the lips or cheek. No feeble attempt at trying to pull me into his arms. Nothing.

But that wasn’t the first time he had taunted me, getting off before making sure I’d gotten off, too. It had become a pattern. One I ignored up until that night. “Wow. Um. I know that’s not it, is it?”

He shot me a look over his shoulder, frowning. “Yeah. I’m good.”

“Well, I’m not,” I huffed, snatching the covers back. “I didn’t cum yet.”

“Whose fault is that? You better go pull out one of them toys and go finish yourself off. Next time, make sure you get yours before I do.”

And with that said, he turned back over on his side, yanking the covers back up over his head. I was stunned and pissed all in the same breath. I couldn’t believe his response to me.

I press my thighs tight, remembering how good his dick was. Too damn bad he wasn’t any good.

“That selfish bastard!” Karalyn hisses. “That’s one of the reasons why I divorced Kenneth. He was so disconnected from what I needed sexually. And I don’t really think he cared as long as he got his.” We both take sips from our glasses, knowingly. “I know why I stayed with Kenneth for as long as I did. Because I wanted my marriage to work. But why did you put up with Maurice for as long as you had?”

“I simply accepted it. I wasn’t ready to let go. I thought things would get better. And I wanted a ring so I didn’t make a big deal about it, even though I felt…I don’t know. Rejected in a sense. After awhile sex with us became routine, like it was a chore that he needed to hurry up and get finished with. For me, it became a desperate mission to keep him. Sometimes I’d wonder if it was me.”

“Girl, hush. It definitely wasn’t you. He sounds like he was a selfish bastard. Good riddance to his trifling ass. He did you a favor.”

She holds her glass up toward mine. They clink together.

“Exactly. I’m so over him and any other emotionally bankrupt asshole. I’m sick of the games, and all of their fickle ways. Girl, I’m so done with stroking a man’s super-sized ego. I’m done with ’em.” I don’t realize how that sounds until it’s fallen out of my mouth. As if I’m done with the male species forever, and ever, Amen. “Anyway, that’s the past. I’m eight months free of that mess. And I have no intentions of going back to it. Right now I’m happily single and doing me.”

Karalyn smiles. “Girl, good for you.” She reaches over and swipes a strand of hair out of my face, her fingertips lightly brushing against my forehead. “He didn’t deserve a woman like you, anyway. You’re a beautiful woman who deserves so much better, Ava. You deserve to be with someone who’s going to appreciate you, love, and cherish you.” A surging heat sweeps through me as she says this. I shift in my seat, attempting to ignore it.

Conya Doss has been playing in the background. And when her track “Don’t Change” pours out into the room, Karalyn and I quietly slip into our own mental zones, sipping our drinks and bobbing our heads to the beat, getting lost in our thoughts.

•  •  •

It’s 3
A.M
., when I finally slide between the sheets of the queen-size bed in Karalyn’s guestroom. My head spinning from the liquor, I close my eyes and squeeze my thighs together as I run a hand over my hardened nipples. I let out a low moan as I pinch them.

What is going on with me? Why exactly am I here again?

My fingers slip down between my thighs, imagining Karalyn’s hands touching me, teasing me, seducing me.

I don’t fall asleep until almost five in the morning.

The next evening, Karalyn and I are sitting in the living room. We’ve spent most of the day lounging around her cabin, talking, drinking bottles of wine, and listening to music. And I am surprised at how comfortable I am around her.

Rahsaan Patterson’s “Feels Good” is playing. The fireplace is lit. The mood is…intimate. And I should be concerned. But I am not. Still, I am taken by surprise when Karalyn reaches over and grabs a stuffed shrimp from off the platter set in front of us on the coffee table and holds it, perched between her index finger and thumb, to my lips. “Open your mouth. Eat it.” Her words come out hot and thick like molasses. I clamp shut the sweet stickiness that has already started to seep between my legs. I shift in my seat.

She sees my expression and laughs. “It’s only shrimp I am trying to feed you.” Her eyes gleam. “Or would you prefer I feed you some
thing
else?”

I blink, lifting my hand to take the shrimp from her.

She shakes her head, pulling her hand back. “No. Use your mouth.”

I am both turned on and taken aback by her dominance. My pussy clenches as she presses it to my lips, coaxing me. Karalyn feeds me the shrimp. I close my eyes and take it in one voluptuous bite.

“It’s good, isn’t it?”

I refuse to meet her eyes as I chew.

I can’t believe I’m sitting here doing this.

I reach for my glass and take a sip. “Yes.” Without thought, I lick my lips. “It’s delicious.”

“Like you, I’m sure. So when’s the last time you had your pussy ate?”

I almost choke on my drink. “Ohmygod, I can’t believe you asked me that.”

She shrugs. “Well, tell me. How long has it been?”

Too long!

I let out a nervous chuckle, wondering why I’m not more uncomfortable with this. Wondering why it doesn’t matter that I am sitting here with another very attractive woman who’s clearly flirting with me.

I put my glass to my lips, then toss back my drink. “It’s been months.”

She eyes me. And for a split second, I think I see amusement flutter in her eyes as she licks her lips. But I can’t be for certain. Shit. After the last four drinks I’ve had, I can’t be sure about much of anything that’s going on right now, especially about why I’m feeling so…horny. “Can I ask you a question?”

I nod. “Sure.”

“You ever been with another woman?”

No, but I’ve fantasized about it.
Of course I don’t share this tidbit.

“Have I ever been with a woman, how?
Sexually
?”

“Yes.”

I shake my head, reaching over and pouring myself another drink. My throat suddenly feels as if I’ve gulped down sand as my heart thumps in my chest. I’m nervous, but not in an uncomfortable way. “No.”

“Would you ever try it?”

I pause and look at her, trying to figure out where this line of questioning is heading. I twist in my seat. “No. I doubt it.”

Okay, yes, I’ve masturbated—multiple times, to the thought. And, okay, truth is. Some—no, all—of my best orgasms have been as a result of those fantasies. Still, that’s doesn’t mean I’m willing to openly admit it to her or anyone else. And it definitely doesn’t mean I want to live them out.
Or do I?
I mean, what if I like it? What if I want it again? Would that mean I’m a lesbian? “I don’t knock what anyone else does,” I push out, shifting my eyes from hers. “But I’m not gay.”

“I didn’t say you were. I’m only asking if you’d ever wondered what it would be like to be with another woman. And would you ever consider it?”

I look at her. “I’m strictly dickly. I mean, right now I’m sick of men. And, yes, I’ve temporarily banished them from my bed and my life, but only for the moment. I’m still very much in love with the feel of a hard dick plunging inside of me.”

My cell rings. I pull it out of my front pocket and glance at the screen. It’s Maurice.
Speaking of the devil
! I press
IGNORE
, then turn my phone off.

Karalyn takes a slow, deliberate sip from her drink, kicking off her shoes. I glance down at her neatly polished toes. “Well, maybe you should think about giving it a try before knocking it.”

“Oh, I’m not knocking anything,” I assure her, shifting in my seat. I glance at her full, sensual lips. Swallow. “You already know I subscribe to the philosophy of live and let live.”

She shifts her body toward me, tucking her leg beneath her. She flashes me one of her dimpled smiles, and I almost forget about the throbbing in my cunt. Almost. Her coffee brown eyes take me in, and she flashes me another toothy grin.

“You know. I’ve always felt this special connection between us. And the one thing I’ve always liked about you is your open-mindedness. You have a free-spirit that I have always been attracted to.”

Blink. Blink.

All of sudden, I’m feeling myself starting to overheat, instead of being put off by what she’s said. Perhaps it’s due to the Ciroc, or it could simply be from the fire burning in the fireplace. Or maybe it’s the way she’s looking at me—intense and probing, that has caused the temperature in the room to rise. Whatever it is, it has me starting to sweat, literally and figuratively. Karalyn’s brown, doe-shaped eyes have now become slanted slits that seem to be leisurely undressing me, peeling back layers of clothing and inhibitions.

“And if it were up to me, I’d have my tongue buried in your pussy right now.”

“I-I…” I stutter, trying to regain some level of composure. But she has struck a match to a secret yearning, one I have never considered exploring…with her…until this very moment. And now I feel a slow burning flame of desire starting to spread. My cunt smoldering with curiosity and lust.

“All I’m saying is, you might find being with another woman to be an enjoyable experience. I know if I had the chance, I’d make sure it’d be one you’d never forget. And one thing I can promise you, you definitely wouldn’t have to ever worry about
me
not eating your pussy. I’d love to be your personal pussy eater.”

Instantly, my cunt moistens. And I imagine the slip-slide of her fingers in my cum-slick pussy. Her gaze heightens my arousal and curiosity, causing my clit to pulse between my thighs, hungry for a mouth, the flick of a tongue.

I gulp back my drink.

“Do you enjoy having your pussy eaten?” she asks, dangling temptation in front of me, purposefully trying to pry open Pandora’s box.

I reach for her drink, laughing it off. “Oh no, girl. No more of this for you tonight. Obviously someone has had a little too much of the devil juice.” I set her glass on the table in front of me.

She reaches over and takes her glass back. “I’m not drunk.”

“Well, clearly you’re
not
in your right frame of mind, either.” I let out another nervous chuckle. “Obviously you must have a little more than Ciroc in that drink that has you saying stuff you’ll regret in the morning.”

She shoots me a look. “I don’t live with regrets. I’m very much aware of what I’m saying. Life is too short, Ava. You’re a beautiful, sexy, vibrant woman. And if you haven’t figured it out yet, I’m a lesbian.”

I am not sure if I should be surprised by this news or not. I have known Karalyn for six years and, although I could never flat-out put my finger on it, I always sensed there was something more to her cool, calm demeanor. She’d always kept her personal life private. And I never felt the need to pry. I still don’t. It was always speculated by the nosey bitches at the job that Karalyn might be a lesbian or, at the very least, bi since no one had ever seen her with a man. They’d say she had an invisible husband since no one had ever met him. But I never gave it much thought. I simply assumed she was a tomboy who threw on a dress and heels and some lipstick when needed, but was most comfortable in sneakers, jeans and a T-shirt.

“Ohmygod,” I say, gasping and feigning shock. “And here I thought you were just flirting with me.”

She laughs. “I am. Shamelessly, I might add. But I’m also very serious. I’m attracted to you, Ava. And I’ve wanted to make love to you ever since the moment I laid eyes on you.”

My mouth drops open. “I’m really flattered. But I—”

“Listen, before you shoot me down with rejection, let me say this. I’m not telling you all this to try and put you on the spot. This has been something I’ve wanted to say to you for a while, but didn’t have the courage or the nerve to until now. Hope I haven’t offended you or made you feel uncomfortable by sharing this.”

I swallow, shaking my head. “No, no…not at all.”
But shouldn’t I be? A woman just sat here and told me she wants to eat my pussy and fuck me down. Shouldn’t I feel something, other than turned on?
“I mean. Yes, I’m a bit surprised that you’d confess all of this to me, but I’m definitely not offended. Or uncomfortable.”

I’ve actually enjoyed it!

Oh, and by the way, I finger-fucked myself to sleep last night with thoughts of you fucking me.

“I’m not into women like that,” I say, hoping it sounds convincing. But shit. Who am I fooling? In all honesty, I’ve found myself at times glancing at certain women and wondering what they’d look like naked, trying to imagine what it would be like tasting them; or them tasting me.

Karalyn scoots over closer to me. “I know you’re straight…”
Am I really?
“And I know you’re probably not the least bit interested in being with another woman. But, if you were, I hope you’d let me be your first.”

“I’m not a lesbian.”

She smiles. “I never said you were. Having one sexual experience with a woman doesn’t classify you as gay, or automatically make you a lesbian. All I’m saying is, think about it. No pressure. No worries.”

I swallow. “Wow. I really don’t know what to say.”

Umm, hello! How about hell no! How about no thank you!

“You don’t have to say anything,” she says, pouring another
drink for herself. “Just think on it while I go hop in the shower.” She stands up and removes her shirt, tossing it on the sofa. She unzips her painted on jeans, then shimmies out of them, leaving them on the floor. I struggle to keep my eyes off of her dimpled, honey-colored ass half-wrapped in a pair of see-through red lace undies that are riding up in her crack. She has a nice ass. I shift my eyes as she bends over, her ass cheeks practically in my face as she reaches for her drink.