He returned the favor, and she popped almost right away. He felt the walls of her channel grabbing at him, and sped up. She was burning up, and he did his best to quench the fire with his juices.They spent a few minutes caressing each other and trading kisses. She considered a shower, really something that wasn't necessary, but symbolic. Instead she'd pulled on her skirt—no underwear!—and walked out to the bus with his come oozing down her legs. She consciously rubbed her thighs together, feeling the cool stickiness on her skin. She felt wicked and sexy at the same time.That was a far cry from the way she felt now. She was the ice princess, the perfect Southern Belle, the kind where butter wouldn't melt in her mouth. She smiled as she came down the stairs. If only they could have seen her at Claiborne!Amber had on the dark green dress she favored for dinner parties. She had a pearl necklace—her real pearls—and a bracelet studded with pearls. She looked like the Young Southern Woman,. Mr. Lancel bent down, then huffed as he lifted a much thicker folder and put it on the table with a thunk.“Thank you for your understanding,” Mr. Lancel said, his voice and face losing his grin as he continued. “I understand this must be a difficult time for you, and we usually would wait until after the funeral, but as I mentioned before, your father’s will had some stipulations in it.”“There are also matters concerning his death that precludes a proper funeral,” Mr. Luu interjected, his voice crisp and clipped. “And our time is concise after recent events.”“Yes, well, we’ll get to that,” the large black man kept his gaze on me as he spoke. Despite his obese frame and genial attitude, I got the distinct impression he watched my every move and word. “Please bear with us, as again, I’m sure this must be difficult for you. We have some questions to ask you, and then we can read the will.”I looked between the two men, debating telling them what a dirtbag my father was, and decided to.
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