Page 13 of Party Favors
She caught her wetness on the tips of her fingers and circled her clit. If she were alone, if Wren wasn’t upstairs looking hot and waiting for Amanda to come back, she would have drawn this out. Really worked herself up and lingered over the good thoughts and feelings bubbling inside her.
Instead, she moved her fingers fast over the hard, slick nub of her clit and stared as the flush of arousal spread down her cheeks and onto her neck until she was unable to keep her eyes open at all.
She came in a rush as silently as possible. Her knees trembled, and arousal slipped over her fingers, glossing the inside of her thighs in slow pulses.
“Goddamn.”
It hadn’t taken her longer than two minutes to get off, and she hoped it wasn’t super obvious she’d been taking care of herself down here. Her blood was still thrumming sweetly, and she had a hard time making herself care.
Finally, the room stopped spinning. She cleaned herself up and prepared to head back upstairs. To sleep. In the same bed as Wren Rebello.
Chapter Four
Wren had screwed up. Or done something brilliant.
She wasn’t sure which.
As soon as Amanda opened the door by talking about sex, Wren had gleefully skipped through it.
She hadn’t preplanned it. The words had just spilled out.
Of course, then Amanda had bolted, and Wren had started to second-guess herself.
She’d been rash. Reckless. She’d dirty talked one of her best friends, a woman she hadn’t met in person until today, without thinking through the repercussions first.
She was repeating past patterns rather than closing the door on bad habits. Not the finest way to commemorate the coming new year. Or … maybe … a last hurrah of bad habits wasexactlythe way to end the year.
Shoot. Making informed decisions was hard.
Screwing around with Amanda was not the best way to solidify a friendship or turn a crush into a relationship, but the devil in her brain was popping champagne and writing a toast.
Fuck, and now she was worked up. She ran her palm lightly over the front of her T-shirt and brushed against one of her nipples. Her pussy ached with the need to be touched, even though there would be no relief unless she grabbed a toy out of her bag.
Wren was not doing that. For one, Amanda might be back any second. She’d gone downstairs to jill off—secretly, but Wren wasn’t born yesterday—and Wren had no idea how long that might take her.
Two, Wren loved the aching, the longing, the unresolved tension tightening her body.
The bathroom door opened and closed, and Wren heard Amanda’s footsteps on the stairs.
Only a couple minutes. Impressive.
Wren was a slow cooker herself, especially without the help of something high-powered, so speed and receptiveness turned her on.
When Amanda reached the top of the stairs, she was a little flushed but otherwise very composed. Wren wanted to drag her down and make her messy again. Damn.
Not yet. Maybe not ever. Wren was notorious for making the let’s-feel-good decisions rather than the smart ones. Maybe she needed to think through the smart decision in this instance.
“Are you sleepy?” Amanda asked. Her voice was raspy.
“Yeah. I’m ready to call it a night. You?” Hopefully, in the morning everything would be clearer.
Amanda smiled and climbed under the covers. She rolled so her back was facing Wren. That was good. Some distance.
Wren turned off the lamp and closed her eyes. She had to get a grip. They were friends, and they were not the type of friends who got each other off. Maybe with a bit of communication—communication that wasn’t just dirty talk disguised as gossip—they would be able to take a step in that direction. Or maybe even step in the more-than-friends-with-benefits direction.
Thatwas what Wren wanted. The possibility of more. They were not going to be able to broach that topic tonight, however.
Tomorrow. Tomorrow, they would come up with old year’s resolutions. They would eat expensive food and drink pricey cider. They would indulge in saltwater hot tubbing. They would have fun like friends. Tomorrow would be a new day. One step closer to New Year’s Eve.
