.."It had worked once and Michael obviously subscribed to the don't mess with success theory of life, so he to shut me up, he kissed me. Over and over...again. Soft and damp and sloppy, fucking my mouth, biting my lower lip, my Kissable lower lip, while his hands were busy, so busy, unzipping my dress and pulling it down farther and farther over my arms until the top met my skirt in a frothy lump at my waist. He let go of my arms then and I could've reached down, but Michael had moved, sliding. She pressed harder against Ben's exploring finger."God damn, Becky," Ben muttered, pushing his finger deep inside her. "Let's go upstairs." No." She shook her head. "Let's go outside."--3--They made themselves presentable, tucking things in and smoothing down her dress before reentering and crossing the ballroom to the French doors. Nothing could be done about her nipples, though. They still tented her dress. And right now, the idea of crossing the ballroom crowded with drunks with them poking. More

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