Driving Me to Christmas (London Loves Book 5) by Julie Farrell Page B

upper-body, tattoos, and nipple piercing. He kissed Paul on the lips, then slid into the pool, still wearing his skin-tight trousers. Paul rolled his jeans up to his knees, then he sat down on the pool edge and dangled his legs in, as if he was a dad supervising his child at a swimming session. But things took a much more adult turn, as Scott positioned himself in front of Paul and started to undo his trousers.
    Sam was captivated as Scott pulled out Paul’s hard cock and made a lavish show of licking it. He threw Paul a sultry look, then plunged his lips around Paul’s erection, making Paul gasp. Several people had stopped what they were doing now and were watching with interest. Paul leaned his weight back on his hands and watched his man sucking and teasing him into ecstasy. It didn’t take long for him to come strongly in Scott’s mouth.
    Arousal squeezed urgently between Sam’s thighs. Without taking her eyes off Scott and Paul, she announced to Verlaine, “I’m really horny.”
    “Me too.”
    “Shall we… er… have sex?”
    “Not here – I couldn’t in front of all these people I don’t think.”
    “Okay. Shall we ask Scott and Paul to take us somewhere a little more private? Er, we’ll wait for them to finish what they’re doing!”
    “Okay.”
    “Cool.”
    Sam waited a few seconds and realised Paul wasn’t going to return Scott’s blow job. She stood on shaking legs and padded over to where Paul was now fastening his trousers.
    Scott was still standing in the pool. He wiped his mouth smuttily and grinned at her. “Hey, Sam. You having fun?”
    “We’d like to try it. But somewhere a bit more secluded. Can you help?”
    “Absolutely! Come with me!”

Chapter Twelve
     
    They found a free room and strolled inside. It was minimalistically decorated, and the purpose was clear. The main feature was a huge wooden-framed double bed, which was covered in a crisp white sheet and three plump pillows. There were no covers, because this bed wasn’t for sleeping or snuggling. You were expected to generate your own heat. The clear laminate flooring and lack of furnishings made it look like a mock-bedroom in a department store. Sam glanced in the corner and saw a plastic trolley holding a stack of freshly-laundered sheets. The sign hanging from it politely asked you to please strip the bed after use, pop the dirty laundry in the chute (which Sam saw was behind a little door in the wall) and then put a clean sheet on the bed.
    Sam loitered in the room and smiled shyly at the three men. Paul grabbed Scott’s hand and started to kiss him, so she threw her attention over Verlaine. He stepped over and kissed her nervously.
    “Ready?” he asked.
    “I think so.”
    Sam glanced towards the door, which was now firmly shut. The huge window next to the door reminded Sam of a recording studio. But instead of musicians in here, there was going to be a live sex show. The thought of being the star of the show sent a cascade of nervous delight through her body. Sam saw that a few people had gathered at the window now and were hungrily watching Paul and Scott, who were falling onto the bed and pushing up each other’s clothes.
    Verlaine took Sam’s hand and led her to the bed, then he sat down on the end. She stood between his thighs, trying to shake off her self-consciousness. She was aware that Scott and Paul had commandeered one side of the bed, leaving Sam and Verlaine to utilise this side. The thought of having sex right next to Scott and Paul was unbelievably erotic. She leaned down and kissed Verlaine’s lips, slipping her tongue inside. His hands reached out and grabbed her hips, then he pulled her close.
    He fondled her thigh and gasped as he found the top of her stockings.
    She chuckled. “Like that?”
    “Fuck yeah!”
    He slowly lifted up the hem of her dress, exposing her stocking-clad thighs to the window behind – showing her panties to the world. It turned her on to know that there were people