August: Calendar Girl Book 8 Read Free Page B

you would have never been there at all!” Touché. Point well made. “And what about that va-Gina chick? What’s the deal with her?” Her tone was hoity-toity, not hiding her distaste.
    “Gone.”
    She harrumphed. “Gone. That’s it. End of.” The exaggerated way she said it indicated she didn’t believe it.
    I shrugged, but she couldn’t see it. “According to Wes, yeah.”
    Another choking sound came through the line. “At least he has good sense.”
    A laugh bubbled up, releasing the constriction that had been pressing on my chest. The tightness that felt like I had heartburn started to dissipate, bringing relief with it. “Be happy for me,” I whispered. A hint of begging lingered at the edge of the request.
    “Honey, I am. Always will be, but you know that your best friend has to play both sides. Protect you even when you won’t. It’s in the fucking book of best friends, right under the part that says pat them on the back and make them feel better when they’ve had a one night stand and can’t remember the name of the guy they fucked, totally making them a whore. It’s my job to make sure that even when you’re being a whore, you don’t feel like a whore.”
    Her logic had merit. Fucked up, twisted merit, but still, she cared. Ginelle loved me more than most people, and I knew that the same way I knew I loved kick-ass concert tees and my motorcycle, Suzi. “Thank you. For caring and worrying…even though you’re a two-bit skank.”
    She sucked in a breath. “I see. So we’re back to that. Okay.“ She clucked her tongue. “I got you. I so got you, wackjob hussy.”
    There was my girl. I smiled. “At least I don’t shake it to make it,” I threw back.
    She feigned a gasp. “At least I don’t lie down on my back and open my legs for cash, hooker!”
    “I love you, Gin.”
    “Love your ugly face. See you soon?”
    “Hope so, pancake ass.” I hung up superfast. That was the rule. I win. I pumped a fist into the air and did a little touchdown dance, complete with wiggling my knees in and out while rolling my ass the way Maria De La Torre taught me back in Miami. Hell, this white girl could dance. Now, whether I looked like a chicken with my head cut off or not was an entirely different story. At least I got the last word in with my best friend. It rarely happened, but this round…all mine.
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    “ I don’t want you to go.” Wes rolled his hips, pressing deep. He was rapidly hardening again while inside me, even though we’d just finished a very active round of mind-blowing sex.
    “We’ve been through this already. You agreed.”
    He frowned and thrust his hips ever so lightly. The sweat on our bodies hadn’t even cooled, and he was already working toward round two. Insatiable. I was a lucky, lucky girl.
    Wes’s fingers tightened around the meaty part of my hips. “I know we did, but I figured maybe I could sway you in another way, a more pleasurable way.” He leaned up and took a pink tip into his mouth. The heat of his mouth around my nipple combined with gentle flicks of his tongue made me instinctively grind into his pelvis, forcing his hard flesh between my thighs even deeper. We both groaned. “See, you’re already starting to get it.” He grinned and pushed up while pulling my waist down. Fully hard inside me. I placed my hands on his chest, used the strength of my thighs to lift up, and slammed down.
    “Ugh, Jesus! Warn a guy next time. Baby, you’ll unman me before the fun’s even begun.” He lifted up, pressed into his heels, and shifted back to the headboard where he lay back and cuddled me into his arms. Lifting up both his knees into ninety degree angles forced the steely length of him into a new position, a beautiful position. I’d marry this position if I could.
    Sighing, I looped my hands around his neck and brought his lips to mine. Tongue-to-tongue, chest-to-chest, and heart-to-heart, we made out. Neither one of us moving our position, he was thick and