Crossing the Line by Karla Doyle Page A

between her lips.
    While he watched. While he fucked her pussy, her ass. “Gotta stop…” Shit, she wasn’t stopping. “Hanna…” As close as he got to begging. He staggered backward before she sent him hurtling past the finish line.
    Some higher power must’ve intervened, because he had no clue where that dose of willpower had come from. The couple of feet separating them weren’t enough. Not with Hanna still on her knees, licking her ruby lips, playing with her nipples. Living proof that heaven and hell could exist simultaneously. And that his balls could throb that much harder. “Be dressed by the time I get back with your bag.”
    “Or what…you’ll fuck me so hard, they’ll hear me screaming all the way to town?”
    “Trying to tempt me with dirty talk?”
    “You did say you appreciated my language skills.” She shimmied closer. “Want to hear me speak Latin?” She closed her fingers around his cock and blew softly over the engorged, still-moist head. “Fellatio…”
    Yeah, shopping could wait.
     

Chapter Four
     
    Jeremy stared up at the ceiling fan. What a difference a couple hours made. He’d had his doubts about this weekend. How it would impact Derrick and Hanna’s marriage, his friendship with D after the fact.
    He’d brushed it off as needless speculation because honest to god, he hadn’t believed they’d go through with it. Especially after finding them in the middle of an intense moment in the parking lot. But then they’d gone to the pool, during the walk to which Derrick had casually reminded him of the guidelines.
    No fucking. No kissing on the mouth. Green light to everything else. And don’t forget the main objective—give Hanna a birthday she’d never forget.
    He hadn’t quite figured out what to do with that level of permission until Hanna walked through the pool gate. That bikini—holy Christ. Her curves. The tumble of dark hair around her shoulders and the nervous-yet-excited smile on her pretty face. Instinct had taken over. He’d touched her and nobody had lost their shit, it’d been fine. He’d sucked her nipples and feasted on her—in front of her husband—and it’d been goddamn phenomenal. He had no doubt that she’d have blown him right there at the pool if that couple hadn’t shown up.
    He also had no doubt that Derrick had fucked her as soon as he had her out of sight. Hell, Jeremy would’ve. Knowing Derrick, he probably hadn’t waited to get back to their room, either.
    Plenty of places en route to their cabin where they could’ve stopped to screw. Jeremy had spotted a few during his bowlegged walk from the pool. One in particular—a private patch of grass surrounded on three sides by tall flowers. He’d pictured Hanna on her knees there, greedily sucking his cock. Then bent over the small bench, clutching fistfuls of grass while he fucked her from behind. Against the rules, that one, but hey, a man could imagine whatever the hell he wanted, as long as he didn’t act on it. And he wouldn’t. He’d enjoy all the other benefits of this wild birthday gift to Hanna, then put it behind them. Back to business and friendships as usual on Monday morning.
    “Hey.” Derrick’s gruff voice accompanied a double knock on the door. “I’m taking Hanna into town for some birthday presents, one of which is gonna be a ribbon for your big hard dick.”
    Couldn’t get much louder than that, could he? Not that anybody would’ve heard. This little resort boasted exclusivity, and it lived up to that promise. Six deluxe cabins scattered on a couple of beautifully landscaped acres meant nobody within earshot for whatever noise the occupants might make. If Hanna was a screamer, no problem. And with that thought, his cock was wide awake. Again. Shit. He pushed off the bed, tucked the damn thing aside the best he could before opening the door.
    “Took you long enough.” Derrick leaned on the door jamb, grinning like a madman. “Still jerking off?”
    “Yeah.