Sexy and Funny, Hilarious Erotic Romance Bundle

by Mimi Strong

  I had slipped out of my orange dress earlier, and was wearing a plain, gray, scoop-neck T-shirt over black leggings.

  Since I had no plans for the evening, not anymore, and the two men had been so kind to me, listening to my tales of woe about Lars and the bridesmaid, I had to say yes.

  I put my arms over my head like a little kid, and Bryan lowered the dress onto me.

  They wouldn't let me look in the mirror until after I'd donned the puffed-out platinum wig, and some jewelry as well, “to bring out the sparkle” in my eyes.

  Everything had a distinctive smell to it, a perfume, and I wondered if the guys had sprayed the dress and wig, or if that was the scent of Dolly herself, of her pheromones. Her goddess powers.

  The guys led me to a full-length mirror and turned me around for the grand reveal.

  Dolly!

  I was no longer myself, but the sexy goddess of country music herself.

  In the dress, my waist looked smaller and my bust looked bigger. Even my too-wide hips looked perfection proportioned.

  My hair was dark, reddish-brown, but I looked as natural a blonde as… well, as Dolly Parton!

  I turned, this way and that, admiring myself, and planning to do a little wig shopping of my own one day.

  “That's enough,” Bryan said, and he gently lifted the wig from my head. I mussed up my chocolate-hued hair, which looked brighter and more appealing now.

  Al unclasped the necklace and lifted it from my neck. Had my collarbones always been so lovely? Had I ever actually looked at myself?

  Bryan unzipped the dress, and I stepped out of it, stepping forward toward the mirror. It was as though I'd just stepped out of the darkness and into the light.

  The power of Dolly was all over me, like a warm hug from a goddess.

  “Thank you,” I said, beaming, and the guys grabbed me for a big group hug.

  PART 2: The Beach

  I ran up to my room and put on the green dress, the other one Shawn had found “memorable.”

  Al and Bryan had sent me up to my room with fresh-baked scones as dessert, but I hadn't touched them, because I wanted to save room. I thought Shawn might be hungry and want to get some dinner. Men his age were always hungry, and they were always ready to go.

  As I got ready for the date, I kept thinking about sex. Earlier that day, I'd entertained the possibility of kissing him, maybe a little necking, but my fantasies had seriously escalated.

  I could sleep with him! Sure, it was a little fast, but I was on vacation, and I wasn't committed to anyone else.

  Thinking about getting him undressed and touching him all over made me smile. Maybe it was the Dolly Parton Goddess Experience, but even my dirty thoughts were giving me tingling feelings. I didn't know I could feel so much excitement in my private area just from my own mind.

  I pictured Shawn in his blue jeans, then I imagined squeezing his firm butt, pulling him into me, and that rising action happening inside his pants. This line of thought made me light-headed, but in a pleasant way.

  When I freshened my makeup, I didn't need any blush at all, because my cheeks were already pink. I applied some mascara, nervously glancing at the pink clock in my room. The B&B wasn't far from the ice cream shop, but it was nearly seven by the time I'd finished my hair. I'd used a ton of hair spray to tease it out and puff it up, in honor of Dolly.

  Worried I might miss him if I delayed any more, I tore myself away from the mirror, checked the room to make sure it was clean and presentable to guests (just in case!), and ran out of the place as fast as my feet could take me.

  When I got to the ice cream shop, the door was locked and the Closed sign was already up.

  I nearly turned around, but I got a whiff of the Dolly perfume on my skin, and I found the courage to tap on the glass.

  Shawn looked up from the counter he was cleaning, and gave me a huge smile. I saw something else on his face as well. Relief. He'd been worried I wouldn't come. What a sweetheart.

  He unlocked the door, let me in, and locked it again behind me. “I just have to close down the till,” he said.

  “And then what?”

  His cheeks went pink under his light beard. “I don't know. Maybe a walk?”

  He moved back over to the prep space behind the counter and beckoned me to join him. As I stepped off the carpet and onto the tile of the staff area, I got a thrill from doing something I knew I wasn't supposed to do.

  The area between my legs began to tingle again, just like it had when I'd been having dirty thoughts in my room, calling attention to itself. The sensation was so distracting. I wasn't used to feeling that way, down there, except for when Lars and I were fooling around, and the truth was, it had been a few years since I'd felt the tingles.

  Shawn pushed some buttons on the cash register and said, “Help yourself to some ice cream, or anything you see.”

  I stared at his lovely butt in his tight-fitting blue jeans. “I'll wait,” I said.

  He turned, caught me staring at his butt, and laughed.

  “Come sit on this old thing,” he said, patting a white cooler next to him.

  I hopped up and looked around. There were a few paperback books on the cooler, including Catcher in the Rye and a slim one called Jonathan Livingston Seagull.

  Shawn started counting the quarters in the cash register drawer, and I let the toe of my left shoe slide up the back of his leg.

  He turned and gave me a you're-so-naughty look.

  I did it again, and he dropped the coins into the drawer and said, “There's no way I can count with you watching me.” He turned and stepped close me, then used his hands to part my knees so he could stand even closer.

  I petted him on his tousled brown hair and said, “Is your hair always this long? Or are you protesting against haircuts?”

  He pinched me on the thigh and said, “Are you always this wicked, or did something get into you?”

  I remembered the transformation I'd seen in myself after trying on the glamorous dress at the B&B. “Something got into me.”

  He leaned in, I'm assuming to kiss me, but I pulled my head back, unsure.

  “I'm sorry, Laura,” he said, shaking his head and stepping away. “You must think I'm the worst.”

  “No.”

  “That girl you saw in here? She's not my girlfriend.”

  “Really? She sure acted like she was.”

  He pulled out his cell phone and showed me a text that read:

  We are OVER. Fuck you, XOXO Sharise

  He laughed uncomfortably as he put the phone away.

  I said, “Something tells me this isn't the first time you two have broken up.”

  He tugged at his ear and looked even more uncomfortable.

  “How many times, Shawn?”

  He held up three fingers, then four.

  “Forget her,” I said.

  He ran his hands through his hair. “I keep trying.” He shrugged. “I should probably get a tattoo to remind myself I don't want to be with Sharise. I want to be with someone normal, you know?”

  “Come here and let me kiss you,” I said. “Let's see if that can help you forget about her.”

  He hesitated and glanced at the large glass windows. It was still light out, but even brighter inside the ice cream shop. Anyone walking by would easily see us.

  His hands were on my legs. His body moved in to meet mine, and his lips landed on my lips. He tasted like ice cream. Like a flavor I'd never had before. His lips parted and we kissed each other hungrily. His hands grew hot and heavy on my legs, and I wrapped my arms around his shoulders, pulling him in toward me.

  I kept pulling, and leaning back so he could kiss my neck, until I was nearly falling backward on the cooler, into the wall.

  “Oops!” he said, falling into me. He straightened up quickly and pulled me upright, with an apology. “I got carried away,” he said.

  I touched my fingers to my lips. “Tasted like you forgot.”

  He stared at me, wide-e
yed. “Forgot about what?”

  “Not what, who.”

  He frowned. “Who?”

  Someone banged on the front door repeatedly. We both turned to see Sharise, pointing her finger at him and practically foaming at the mouth.

  “Her,” I said.

  He shook his head as though dazed. “You know, for a second, I actually did forget about her.”

  She kept banging on the door.

  I slid off the cooler and said, “I'd better get going. Is there a back door I can slip out of?”

  “That way,” he said, pointing toward a curtained doorway that presumably led to a back room.

  I said, “See you around. Good luck with Sharise. I'm sure her bark is worse than her bite.”

  He grabbed my hand and said, “Laura, don't leave. I'll deal with her. Wait for me in the back room. Please don't leave. I think you're the only one who can help me.”

  I pulled my hand away from his and stepped through the curtained doorway. The back door was right there, just a few feet further.

  I thought about that kiss, the one I'd just had with Shawn. I pushed open the back door, then let it bang shut, but I didn't leave. I found a little wooden stool, and I took a seat where I wouldn't be seen, but could hear what was happening up front.

  Sharise was mad. Oh, boy was she mad.

  Apparently, she'd “accidentally” left some words out of the text message, and they weren't broken up, not according to her. She'd meant to say that he had to apologize to her, “or else” it would be over with them. Not that it already was.

  I rolled my eyes.

  People like her really—if you'll pardon the expression—chapped my ass. Always twisting the words around, always making it sound like they're innocent, a victim in all the drama around them. Always complaining about drama, when you know darn well they're the ones causing it!

  She made me sick.

  I didn't have to know Shawn that well to believe he was the kind of sweet, drama-free person who would be attractive to someone like her. Now, I'm not saying this is a woman thing, because plenty of men cause drama too, albeit in different ways, but Sharise was one of those girls. You know.

  I had to give credit to Shawn, though, because he held his ground. He didn't get angry and worked up, and he didn't grovel or apologize, either.

  He simply said, over and over again, “I think we should take a break from each other.”

  The dog barked through much of this, getting more and more worked up with Sharise's insanity.

  Several painful minutes into the argument, the dog came padding back to the back room. Princess sat down at my feet and looked up at me, her little tongue lolling out.

  “I feel sorry for you,” I said to Princess. “Poor girl. You have to live with crazy, twenty-four seven.”

  The dog cocked her head and gave me a precious look.

  Sharise yelled out, “Princess! Get over here! Princess! You bad little bitch!”

  The dog left my feet and padded out obediently to her owner.

  Shawn said, “Don't call her that.”

  “She's a female dog. That's what they're called, stupid.”

  “Well, she's my dog too, and I say don't call her that. Don't call anyone that.”

  “It's a compliment,” she snapped at him. “Bitches get what they want.”

  “Sharise, don't be like this.”

  She started shrieking, “Fuck YOU Shawn! Why don't you go kiss your out-of-town SLUT some more! Why don't you go have your FUN and then tomorrow come CRAWLING back to me!”

  “Yes,” he said, his voice level. “I do think we should take a break from each other.”

  She made a sound like an angry howl and stomped out the door, slamming it behind her.

  In the silence that followed, I heard him sigh. Then he opened the till and counted the change he'd tried to count before.

  I smiled to myself, because he didn't know I was there. He believed my door-slam, that I'd left.

  Giggling quietly, I was reminded of playing hide-n-seek with my cousins when we were little. I'd always get so nervous, hiding in a closet behind my father's trench coats, my heart pounding in my throat whenever anyone came near, looking for me.

  What was that emotion? Fear? Excitement? Both of those make your body produce adrenaline, so being afraid and being sexually excited had a lot in common. That explained why I always wanted to make love to Lars immediately after watching a scary movie.

  I felt that same hide-n-seek excitement as I waited in the back room for Shawn to discover I was there.

  The lights went out.

  He was leaving, locking up!

  I jumped up and tripped over my foot, which had fallen asleep. I grabbed for something to steady myself and sent something, perhaps a spoon, noisily clattering across the room.

  “Hello?” he called back.

  “Shawn, it's Laura.”

  The lights came back on and he rushed through the curtain. Grinning, he said, “I almost locked you in!”

  “How terrible. I would have had to eat ice cream all night long.”

  “I'm sorry you had to hear—” he nodded toward the front “—all of that.”

  I shrugged. “It happens to all of us. The crazy. It's in everyone's lives. And all of us get a little crazy sometimes.”

  He raised his eyebrows and stared deep into my eyes. “Laura, you are the most grounded person I've ever met. You came in here, I think it was six or seven days ago, and you woke me up. You woke me up.”

  “You were sleeping?” I looked around the tiny room, which had some prep space, some sinks, and filing cabinets, but nowhere soft to sleep.

  “You woke me up, in a manner of speaking,” he said, taking me by the hands. He raised my fingers to his lips and began to nibble on them. “It's my birthday today.”

  “How old are you?”

  “Twenty-five.”

  I was confused. Had I mixed him up with his brother? They both looked so similar.

  “Just kidding,” he said. “I'm turning twenty-one.”

  “Ah. Shouldn't you be on a tour of every bar and strip club in town?”

  “If that's where you want to go, I'll take you out.” He kissed my fingers some more, then moved to my wrists. “But I'll warn you, we only have three bars, and one of them is karaoke.”

  “Sounds like fun,” I said.

  “Let's go.” He led me away from the little back room, stopped to flick off the lights, then took me out the front door and locked up behind us.

  “Had to get you out of there,” he said.

  “Why? Were you worried I was going to kiss you?”

  “Yeah. And then we would have melted all the ice cream.”

  I swatted him on the chest playfully. He stepped in, leaned down, and kissed me. Right there on the sidewalk, for anyone in town to see.

  Shyly, I pulled away from him and looked around, worried about crazy Sharise coming after me with a tire iron.

  He said, “The bars won't be interesting for another hour, so do you want to… go to the beach and watch the sun set?”

  “Okay,” I said, and I grabbed onto his hand—comfortably, as though we'd held hands a million times.

  Down on the beach, we found a secluded log to watch the sunset. Finding privacy wasn't difficult, as the beach was rather secluded. As I looked out over the sparkling ocean, I realized that the people who lived in this town saw this view every day, any time they wanted, and they'd come to take it for granted.

  I rested my head on Shawn's shoulder and tried not to think about the six-and-a-half-year age gap between us. It hardly mattered, anyway, since my home was three states away, in a noisy city, so far away from this beauty.

  We'd been quiet for a while, and I thought of a question to ask, but then we both spoke at the exact same time, cutting each other off. After a shared laugh, I said, “What were you going to ask?”

  He said, “Something dumb, just to get you to turn and look at me.”

  I turned and s
tared into his eyes. They were brown, and the setting sun lit them up gold, captivating me, rendering me speechless.

  He leaned in to kiss me.

  This time, we were not interrupted by someone banging on the door.

  He kissed me, timidly at first, but then his passion grew. I felt the heat rising in my loins, and the sensation of my private areas, inside my panties, becoming swollen and slippery.

  His tongue slipped into my mouth, and I hungrily devoured it, surprising myself at my passion. My ex-fiance, Lars, had once called me frigid during an argument, and I'd actually believed him. I thought perhaps I wasn't a very sexual person, but my feelings with Shawn surprised me in their ferocity. I could see myself ripping his clothes off, devouring him.

  He pulled back and looked at my arm, which was dotted in goosebumps.

  “You're cold,” he said.

  But I wasn't. I was just excited.

  “Sit on my lap,” he said, grinning. “I'll keep you warm.”

  The sun was sinking into the sea, a hot, orange half-circle, plunging out of sight.

  “Sure,” I said, and I slid over and then up onto his lap, with my back to him.

  “Not like that,” he said. “I can't kiss you like that.”

  “You can kiss my neck.”

  “Ah,” he said, and then he did, biting, tonguing and nibbling up and down the nape of my neck, holding up my hair with one hand to get at more of me. His touch was exquisite, so sensual, like he was paying full attention to what he was doing.

  My breasts got a feeling in them, like I wanted him to touch them. As I was thinking this, he reached his hands around and cupped them, gently squeezing my nipples.

  His voice all deep and raw, he said, “Turn around. Let me kiss you.”

  I stood, faced him, then lowered myself onto his lap. I lifted my feet over the log, one at a time, and wrapped my legs around him.

  My green, frilly dress rode up, and the sensation of the hard bulge in his pants felt so good, so desirable, against my panties and the soft inner sides of my thighs. I ground myself into him, feeling the hardness within his jeans shift so that his penis could fully engorge and stand straight up.