Читать книгу What Happens In Vegas... - Lauren Dane - Страница 14

We were back to being bosom buddies. When Jack had left my apartment that morning—after giving me an open-mouthed kiss that had left me wet and horny and an adoring look that had left me fearful that I could end up breaking his heart if I kept letting him sleep with me—I had never thought that possible.

But here we were, sitting around Jack and Ryan’s kitchen table, dressed in our oldies but goodies, tossing chips into a poker pot and shooting the shit like the three of us had done every Wednesday night for nearly fifteen years. It was Friday, but the scenario still felt more like a homecoming than anything I’d ever experienced. These guys were my family as much as, and probably more than, my parents had ever been, and I belonged here with them, as a friend and the sister they’d never had. And that meant I needed to stop sleeping with Jack. Forgetting how quickly and thoroughly he got to me wouldn’t be easy, but for our friendship’s sake, I could do it.

Or so I was trying to convince myself when Ryan grabbed a bag of salt-and-vinegar chips and another of pretzel rods from on top of the fridge and tossed them on the table. The pretzel rods were my favorite, the salt-and-vinegar chips Jack’s favorite. I knew even before Jack pulled the bag open and popped a chip into his mouth I was in deep trouble.

It wasn’t the way Jack ate his chips that bothered me. It was how he licked the residue from his fingers, so as not to get grease on the cards or poker chips. One at a time, starting with his index finger, he trailed his damp tongue from knuckle to knuckle, onto the next finger, the next knuckle. Lick. Lick. Lick.

His gaze flicked to mine without warning, far too fast for me to stop my ogling or close my slightly open mouth. A cocky grin curved his lips. Wicked intent sizzled in his eyes. His licks turned to a fervent suckling of the sensitive web of flesh connecting his thumb and first finger.

My heart raced. My pussy pulsed. I stifled my moan, just barely.

I could feel that suckle straight to my core, like he was slurping the juices from my sex, eating the cum clean from my body the way he’d done that morning, after delivering me to ecstasy by way of the vibrator he’d found stashed under my bed. Feeling the flesh-colored dildo quivering inside me had always felt good. Knowing Jack had controlled its every move had tripled the sensation, until I hadn’t been able to stop from writhing on the bed and grinding my pussy against his hand while I’d screamed out my pleasure.

“What’s up, Carinna?”

My breathing coming too fast, I glanced over at Ryan, aware he’d spoken but not sure about what. “Huh?”

“You calling or what?”

I grappled for the pretzel bag and yanked it open. Stuffing a salty rod in my mouth, I sucked on it hard in an attempt to dislodge the totally arousing and completely unwanted thoughts from my head. “Yeah. Sure.”

Ryan laughed so obnoxiously I looked back at him. Humor curved his lips and gleamed in his sea-green eyes. “I oughta hold you to your word and make you give me all your chips, but something tells me your mind isn’t on the game.”

And something told me he was right as rain. Speaking of rain, I felt like a major downpour had let loose in my sweatpants.

Pushing aside the urge to shift in my seat, I glanced at the table in front of Ryan and then at the pot and realized he’d gone all in. A look at my hold cards had me inwardly cringing. Nice. I’d called him on an off-suit two and nine.

Not about to admit I had a one-track mind that revolved entirely around getting Jack naked, I stuck out my chin and narrowed my eyes. “I have cards.”

Ryan’s smirk said he wasn’t buying it. “Then put your chips in the pot and prove it, sweetheart.”

“Do I look like an idiot? You already made it clear you have a winning hand.” I folded my hold cards into the deck, giving it an absent shuffle just in case Ryan decided to look. Too much of a chickenshit to meet Jack’s eyes or look at his mouth again, I stood. “I need a beer. Anyone else?”

“Please,” Jack said as I made my way to the refrigerator.

“Okay.” Just stop licking your damned fingers. Not that the deep timbre of his voice was any less lethal. “Ry?”

“You know it. There’re longnecks in the crisper bin.”

Longnecks.

Without thinking, I slanted a look at Jack. His eyes had been teasingly wicked, now they smoldered with a sensual heat so forceful it guaranteed he shared my thoughts. Those of how he’d lived out his promise and used the bottle of gin on me last night, fucking me with its neck. Not to orgasm, just long enough to have me trembling on the edge. And then Jack had been there, his big cock filling me up while his tongue delivered my mouth to an erotic palate paradise.

Did Ryan know we were sleeping together? Did he know how Jack had used that bottle on me? Is that why he’d brought up the longnecks? Why he’d gotten out those damned torturous potato chips?

One thing was certain, I wasn’t up to handling a longneck. Hell, I was barely up to playing Texas Hold ’Em.

I opened the fridge door and basked in the coolness that greeted my hot body. Several long seconds was all I could risk without raising questions. Then I grabbed two bottles of Bud from the crisper and a can of Bud Light for myself from the top shelf and returned to the table.

Ryan had the dealer chip, which meant Jack’s hands were free to roam. Any relief I’d gotten from the cold air of the fridge was forgotten the instant his hand went into the chip bag. The damned chips went in his mouth. He started chewing. Any moment now he would be licking. Sucking. Slurping.

Popping the tab of my beer with one hand, I stuffed a fresh pretzel rod in my mouth with the other and attempted to suck my stimulation away. That proved as ineffective as trying to steal my gaze from Jack’s mouth to look at my hold cards.

Right on cue he started in on the licking. Right on cue my pussy let loose with juice. Right on cue a husky moan barreled up the back of my throat and attempted to push free of my lips.

Jack’s mouth opened. I waited for his tongue to escape, to start in on the next round of silent but sensuously deadly torture. Instead, he said, “Carinna?”

“What?” Christ, could I sound any more breathless?

“You’re bleeding all over the freaking table, that’s what,” Ryan answered.

“What?” I looked down to find blood oozing from the tip of my index finger to pool on the table’s wood surface. “Shit.”

“You probably cut it on the rim of your can,” Jack supplied. “There are Band-Aids in the medicine cabinet in the upstairs bathroom.”

Squeezing my finger with my good hand to staunch the blood flow, I stood and then realized where he’d instructed me to go. The master bath, which was hooked to his bedroom. Feet away from his bed. Where he slept naked. The same way he’d slept the past two nights. Naked and with a monster hard-on prodding against my ass crack. A monster hard-on I wasn’t supposed to be thinking of. But, Jesus, how could I not?

“I’ll help you,” he said, as if he honestly thought following me up to his room was a good idea.

“And I’ll see you two in the morning,” Ryan put in smugly as we exited the kitchen and headed straight to what I was sure would be more carnal temptation than I could possibly resist.