My Big Fat Fake Honeymoon - Lauren Landish Page 0,81

my swimsuit, hungry to be buried inside Abigail’s warm sweetness once again.

She slides down my body, biting her lip suggestively as she looks squarely at the bulge in my shorts then up to my eyes. If we weren’t in the middle of the dance floor, I would tease her lips open with the head of my cock and let her suck me.

But the people clapping remind me that I can’t do that here. I fist the chair to stay steady, fighting for control.

Abigail keeps going with her seductive dance, turning around and placing her hands on my knees to grind against my lap. She throws her head back and whispers, “You ready for this?”

“Anything,” I vow.

She moves her hands down my legs to the floor and then carefully lifts one leg and then the other to my shoulders, bending herself into an L shape. It’s almost like we’re in yoga class again and she’s doing handstands.

Oh, mio Dio, is there anything this woman can’t do?

Her dress sags, letting me see up it to her core, which is covered by a tiny black swimsuit.

Before I know what’s happening, Abigail has bent her knees, which with her feet hooked over my shoulders, pulls my face directly toward her ass. I smash nose first into her pussy and can hear the shocked laughter from the crowd. Quick as can be, she does it again and again.

I laugh in surprise at her boldness.

Good-naturedly, I grab her hips and hold her in place to growl against her. She’s having a bit of fun at my expense, but I can smell her arousal.

The song ends and there are huge amounts of applause, and I even hear a few whistles tossed our way. But she’s all mine, and when it’s time to switch, I push her toward the chair, where she sits down primly as though I don’t know that she’s a gushing fountain for me.

There’s a bit of laughter as the other guys stand up, and it’s pretty clear that I’m not the only one sporting wood. Unashamed, I adjust myself, knowing that Abigail is watching my every move.

“Next round,” the announcer calls.

Surprisingly, I see that Janey got tapped out. I feel certain that it wasn’t for lack of dance skills, though, so if what Abigail did got cheers, what in the world did Janey do? Actually strip?

Also, Emily is now sitting in a chair with a wicked smile of satisfaction on her lips. I guess she got through that round too.

For this round, the song’s just as naughty and dirty, Beyonce’s Drunk In Love. It’s not a song I know well, not common in kitchens, but it doesn’t matter. They could be playing bagpipe polka music and I would still dance for Abigail.

I circle my hips a bit, nowhere near as gracefully as Abigail did, but she doesn’t seem to mind. Letting my hands trace along the buttons of my shirt, I open them one by one to expose my chest.

Abigail’s eyes widen with hunger, and I take her shaking hands in mine, guiding her to touch me. Her fingers delicately dance along my abs, over my chest, and back down to tease along my waistband. I pump my hips forward and back, and I see her chest heaving in time with my movements.

It’s not part of the rules, not part of the dance, but Abigail leans forward and presses a gentle kiss right below my belly button. “Mio Dio,” I hiss and then simply lift her out of the chair to stand before me.

Our tongues twist and go so deep I swear we pour ourselves into each other’s souls with this kiss.

When the announcements come, we don’t win, but I don’t care. I’m too far gone, too desperate for her. I pull Abigail off the dance floor, ignoring the crowd’s cheers, especially Emily’s, and head toward the staircase downstairs to search for one thing . . .

“Here,” I growl, finding an empty room. I shove Abigail inside and lock the door behind us. I consider trying to reign in my hunger, not wanting to scare her, but to my delight, Abigail pushes her sundress down and unties her top to free her tits before pulling the loose ruffles of the skirt up to reveal that tiny bikini bottom.

“Fuck me, Lorenzo. Take what’s yours,” she says breathlessly as she turns to bend forward over the bed.

I’m so aroused I’ve lost my English and resort to muttering nonsense in Italian about how sexy she is, how