oh . . .
She pressed down on her aching sex through the thin cotton of her dress.
His tongue would push into her mouth, sweet and silky and full of need. She’d loved
the way he
needed
her, as if he’d die if he couldn’t touch her, kiss her.
She was dying right now.
She opened her eyes for a moment. The porch was dark—she hadn’t turned on the lights.
The street was quiet, empty. She closed her eyes and pictured his face once more,
those lovely moments of anticipation before he took her mouth.
She slid her hand beneath the hem of her dress, slipped herfingers under the lacy edge of her panties and found her sex slick with need. She
took in a breath, let her fingers slide through her damp heat, over the already-swollen
folds.
God, the first time he’d gone down on her she thought she would die of pleasure. It
was the one thing he’d given in on—he refused to take her virginity. But that plush,
clever mouth kissing her there, licking, sucking . . .
“Oh . . .”
She pressed a finger into her body, moaned quietly. Added another.
He’d push his tongue inside her, then draw it out, pause endlessly, making her wait
before he dove in once more, all wet tongue and soft lips, then he’d push his fingers
into her.
She pumped her fingers a few times, need swarming her, her hips arching. Then she
slid her fingers out to rub at her hard clitoris.
Mick . . .
God, she needed him. Needed to feel him again. Needed him to spank her, like he had
that one night. His big hand coming down on her flesh, making her sore. Making her
wet. Making her pant with need. Until, his fingers buried inside her, she’d come.
Come apart. Screamed his name.
“Yes . . .”
She pressed into her needy sex once more, the heel of her hand pressing onto her mound.
She shivered, remembered the sting of his palm on her flesh, his fingers working her
mercilessly, milking her climax from her as she shivered in his arms.
“Oh!”
She came, hard, her body jerking, her sex tightening over and over around her plunging
fingers.
“Mick . . .”
She gasped his name over and over until, finally, her body calmed, and she moved her
hand from beneath her dress.
All around her was the sound of cicadas, a car driving by. She felt enveloped by the
dark sky. By the pleasure still simmering in her system.
She needed to do it again, properly this time, with her vibrator, her legs spread.
Desire rose once more, her nipples pulling tight.
Yes, she needed it. Needed to come again and again tonight. Probably every night until
she saw him. Until he touched her. And then
Mick
would make her come.
She groaned, got up and went into the house, letting the screen slam shut behind her,
her glass of tea forgotten. It didn’t matter. All that mattered was this driving need.
She moved through the dark living room, past the old furniture and the boxes of her
belongings, and into the bedroom. She pulled her toy bag from beneath the high four-poster
bed and yanked on the zipper. It was dark in the room, the moon casting a pale silver
light, but it only took her a few moments to find what she was looking for.
Impatiently, she stripped her sundress off over her head and flung it onto the floor.
She climbed up on the bed and lay down next to the items she’d lined up on the white
cotton coverlet: her big vibrator and a smaller one, a string of anal beads, a bottle
of lube, some clamps, their metal chain glinting in the sliver of moon and starlight
that hit the bed.
She got on her hands and knees and grabbed the big, phallus-shaped vibrator, switched
it on and touched it to her clit. It was almost too much, she was so hot already.
She bit her lip, rode it out, shivering all over, then spread her knees wider and
plunged it inside her.
“Oh, God.”
She surged back onto the big vibrator, loving the way it filled her. The way Mick
had filled her with his big, lovely cock.
His cock was