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“Oh yes,” she whispered, giving herself over to the pleasure, losing herself in sexual bliss. “Oh God. Fuck me harder. Make me come. Please, please, please!”
They all worked her a little more feverishly. When Max smacked her on the ass again, all the beautiful, delicious, erotic sensations converged, rocking her to the core of her being like a ten-point earthquake.
“Oh yes!” she cried out, riding a tsunami of pleasure that coursed through every inch of her. “Oh!” The bliss went on and on. Her inner walls squeezed both cocks inside her.
Eric came next, calling out her name as his body jerked and convulsed beneath her and inside her.
“Oh fuck, yeah,” Max groaned as he pushed a little deeper into her ass.
His orgasm caused him to buck behind her, making him hammer into her until Annabelle screamed again, another climax stealing her breath.
Max withdrew slowly from her and she collapsed onto Eric’s wide chest, panting heavily.
“Good Lord,” she managed to whisper. “That was…too amazing for words.”
“You said it,” Eric replied with a soft laugh.
Jasper leaned forward and gave her a kiss on the forehead. “You give one hell of a blowjob, Annabelle.” He smiled at her, then got to his feet and left the stage.
Max took his place, pressing his lips to her temple. “Damn good fuck, Annabelle. You’re a fantasy come to life.” He winked, then left her alone with Eric.
When she finally regained some of her strength, she sat up. She still straddled Eric’s lap. His cock was still inside her.
Eric sat up too. “Come to Vegas, Annabelle. See the show. We’ll take you out on the town afterward.”
“I’d like that.”
* * * * *
The auction on Sunday was, as Yvette had claimed, a stellar affair with a fantastic brunch, free-flowing champagne and a fiercely competitive, live auction. Yvette bid on the peacock number and won.
She beamed proudly as she said to Annabelle, “Don’t you dare let those country-club prudes view it without me there to see their reaction!”
Annabelle laughed. “They’re not all prudes, you know.”
Yvette’s gaze slide over her and a wicked smile touched her lips. “No, honey, they’re not.”
Sans her body paint, the blush on Annabelle’s face was likely bright pink. “You are so bad.”
“No,” her friend said. “You are. I like this new Annabelle Hardin.”
“Yeah,” Annabelle agreed. “Me too.”
The “Pollination” scene was the last to be auctioned off. The bids were fast and furious, the price escalating at a rapid rate. Annabelle’s eyes grew wide at the popularity of the piece. She also felt a new sense of pride for her bold breakthrough. So when the bidding slowed, and the piece was going, going, go—
Annabelle lifted her bidder’s paddle in the air, upping the price by another five hundred dollars.
Her competition backed down, though the man looked positively steamed. Unable to meet Annabelle’s new price, the gavel dropped and the auctioneer yelled, “Sold!”
Annabelle’s heart skipped a beat.
Yvette gasped. “Talk about paying a fortune for a painting!”
Dropping her bidder’s paddle on the table, Annabelle snickered. “I want the reminder of my liberating weekend in Manhattan.” She reached for her glass of champagne and took a deep sip.
Yvette smiled. “I have a newfound respect for you, my friend.”
“I do too,” she said with a grin, already knowing exactly where she’d hang the painting. In the living room for all to see.
