It was wrong, and she knew it. But right then, Melanie didn’t care. Marianne was sucking so hard on her clit that Melanie would have given her all of her money right then. Some of it. Maybe.
The buzzing of the vibrator mirrored the buzzing in her brain, wiping thoughts of Lindsay and Gus and Brian right out of her head. She didn’t want to think, or argue, or even talk. What she wanted was to come, really fucking hard.
Marianne’s mouth was absolutely sinful, full lips and warm tongue, licking, invading, conquering. Mel came, and Marianne started over again.
16. by LJ's lastglances
The streets are a menace, full of dangerous temptation. Brian smokes at the window, a caged bird smoothing its ruffled feathers. It's an hour past midnight and Brian counts every second. His breath does not come easy, the smoke gathering in his lungs, a seeking poison. He exhales heavily, considers going to bed. An hour later, the shower stills and Justin emerges from clinging steam as Brian turns towards him in bed. He understands. Brian had enough to worry about without standing at the window, keeping a hawk's watch on his return. Justin sleeps with that knowledge heavy upon him.
"Michael said you sent Justin a roomful of roses."
"Wow, Brian. That's really sweet."
"I've asked the guy to fucking marry me and bought him a palace; surely mere flowers shouldn't be a surprise anymore."
"Yes, sure. Sorry."
"I'd like to celebrate your birthday with our cwazy family but I won't be in town tonight, so I hope this will do."
Ben stared at the thing Brian just put on the table and couldn't be more surprised if Brian suddenly screamed 'fire!' and ran.
"I… I don't know what to say. Thank you."
Brian grinned, satisfied with Ben's reaction.
18. by LJ's sfscarlet
Invitations sent, pictures mounted, gallery open. Now I wait to see if anyone shows up to view my work. My manager said, “Mount it, they will come.” In walks the first patron and soon the place is filled. Quickly red stickers are placed on many of the paintings. I'm busy talking to a patron who wants to commission me to paint a mural in her summer home. This is the third such request tonight. He walks up to me, waiting for me to finish talking and gives me a kiss.
"That's the last of them, sir. Sign here, please." The deliveryman shoved a clipboard at Brian and indicated a line near the bottom of the grimy receipt.
Brian stood in the driveway and watched the truck pull away until a final curve in the road took it out of sight. He thought about not going inside, instead getting into the Corvette and letting the road take him someplace that wasn't here.
Maybe that was why he was surprised, a few minutes later, to find himself in the cavernous living room, trying not to acknowledge the presence of the paper-wrapped canvases.