Suite 269
Christine Zolendz
Christine Zolendz
Contents
Foreword
Copyright
Dedication
1. Lexa
2. Lexa
3. Lexa
4. Lexa
5. Jameson
6. Lexa
7. Jameson
8. Lexa
9. Jameson
10. Lexa
11. Jameson
12. Lexa
13. Jameson
14. Lexa
15. Jameson
16. Lexa
17. Jameson
18. Lexa
19. Jameson
20. Lexa
21. James
22. Lexa
23. Lexa
24. Jameson
25. Lexa
Something Extra
Foreword
Author’s Note
This wasn’t supposed to become a book. This started as an exercise on how to write better sex scenes and I have no clue how it changed from that, but it did. I surveyed a bunch of readers on Facebook and asked them (anonymously) what their favorite fantasies were—the things they wished they could tell their significant others but were too afraid too. I hope it makes you blush a little and wiggle around in your seat. I hope you enjoy it.
If you like this book, there are a bunch of great ways to help support authors like me—recommend the book to a friend, write a review, or share about your reading experience on Facebook and other social media. Make sure to sign up for my Newsletter so you’ll be the first to know about my new releases and contests.
If you want to read more of my books, below is a list of my other titles.
Paranormal Romance
Fall From Grace
Saving Grace
Scars and Songs
Romance Suspense
Brutally Beautiful
Cold-Blooded Beautiful
Hilarious Chick-Lit
#TripleX (co-written with Angelisa Stone)
Contemporary Romance
Here’s To Falling
As always, thank you—thank you for all your support!
Come friend me on Facebook or visit my Facebook Author Page and stop by my Website to see more about me or just hang out! I’m also on Instagram, Twitter, and Pinterest too!
XOXO
~Chris
Credits:
Blurb Bitch
Editing: Lisa Angel Miller with Angel Editing Services
Cover Design: Me! I did it! Can you believe it?
Copyright © 2015 by Christine Zolendz
Cover Design by Christine Zolendz
Stock Photography purchased through 123rf.com
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owner.
All rights reserved.
Created with Vellum
This one is dedicated to Caramel Lattes
Blushing
First kisses
And
Tripping heart first into love
1
Lexa
“I’m getting drunk, where you at?” @Kavon #SeeingDouble
Damn it! My pink penis-shaped water gun was almost out of water. Tossing it over to Mandy, she fumbled for it, and of course, missed the giant rubbery monster. It wobbled through the air, landed hard, bounced twice, and skidded across the dance floor. Everyone howled in drunken laughter. "You gotta fill up the balls for me," I screamed in a fit of giggles. "It's all out of juice."
I couldn't believe those words came out of my mouth. I couldn't even believe I was there. It was all too surreal. Because right at that particular moment, it was closing in on midnight and an extremely hard, mostly naked stranger was humping my backside in hard, quick thrusts. A sexy song thumped through the speakers, his quick movements matching the rhythm of the bass. A low, white, smoky mist rolled out across the floor; it tickled my throat, and sent icy chills up my arms. Okay, okay—maybe it wasn't from the mist, maybe it was from Mr. Jack P. Hammer.
Ordinarily, I'm not the kind of woman who gets herself into these sorts of predicaments. No, not me, I'm pretty much an easily embarrassed, one-man, only-in-a-bed, lights off, average kind of girl. I may talk the talk, but I'm too damned chicken to walk the walk. However, this night was a bride-to-be's rite of passage, and it definitely called for a stripper. Pardon me, strippers; there was a definite need for more than one.
Luckily, we were surrounded.
Let's see. There was the cowboy, gangster, soldier, cop, and superman. Oh, and the guy trying to jackhammer his screwdriver into me was a construction worker.
So, there I was in the middle of them wearing the obligatory bride's tiara with glow in the dark rubber penises jutting out of my head like a pair of horns. Literally, I was in the middle of them, getting shoved into a chair decorated like a throne with the entire club of salivating woman watching. Women, from all lifestyles, grabbing hungrily at the dancers, while money flew up to the overhead rainbow-colored disco lights. The music kicked up faster and the MC was announcing yet another dancer; some other poor bride-to-be was going to be getting dry humped alongside me. A handful of desperate middle-aged women shrieked in the corner, wads of singles in their hands, as Thor the god of Thunderfucks came out dancing.