Inventing Herself Read Free

ceiling.
    ‘Wonderful.’
    Nothing was comfortable and she was alternately hot and cold. She considered getting up and having a drink, but thought maybe the wine was what was keeping her up in the first place. Then she considered watching TV or reading, but six a.m. was rocketing toward her and she thought it might be a bad idea to be a true zombie come the sunrise.
    She rolled to her belly, wiggling and stretching, trying to turn off her mind – still picking at this new, oddly uncomfortable assignment – and when a small zing of pleasure coursed through her from striking the right facedown pose, she sighed.
    If you just get yourself off, you’ll sleep. Best way to calm down on earth, Sophie.
    She slipped a finger into her panties and found her clit. An experimental press of her fingertip spread warm ribbons of pleasure through her pelvis. Her cunt went a little wet, her insides flexed agreeably. Sophie laughed softly. It had been way too long since she’d taken care of herself. She was a woman who subscribed to the idea that an orgasm a day kept the bad temper away, but for some reason lately she’d stopped giving herself pleasure when there was no one else around to help her out.
    Her fingers slid along her silky folds and she tested her slick opening with one quick thrust. She pushed a second finger inside herself and groaned a little when she flexed her fingers and found her G-spot. Her clit thumped in time with her heart.
    Now she just needed to set herself up mentally. She was too tired to get up and rummage around for a toy that might speed up the process. She had a few in her closet, one in her dresser, and one or two in her nightstand. But good old-fashioned finger work would have to do the trick tonight.
    She ground herself against the palm of her hand as her fingers slid in and out of her wetness. Every nudge of her G-spot shot a rolling bolt of goodness through her pussy, up into her womb and her belly. She found herself biting the edge of the pillow with each thrust of her hips.
    You’ve gone rabid, she thought, and almost laughed, but then the pleasure ratcheted up a notch and the laugh turned to a sigh.
    She pictured him, whoever him was, putting his mouth to her pussy. Licking her. Sliding his tongue along the slick terrain of her pussy lips. Then driving a rigid tongue into her eager slit. He’d suck and lick, alternating, keeping her on edge the whole time. When the licking made her offer up a sigh and surrender, he’d switch to a great suctioning kiss that drew on her flesh and made her clit thrum with urgency.
    Sophie sighed, seeing him in her mind’s eye, as her hips undulated and her fingers pressed and slid, his big forearms pinning her down to the bed. His shoulders and his chest. Narrow hips, flat belly, nice body but not –
    ‘Not a gym rat,’ she murmured, curling her fingers more insistently against that wonderful bundle of nerve endings deep inside.
    The orgasm was a gathering storm that tightened, grew, got fatter and brighter with energy and bliss, and she held her breath, moving her fingers faster, pushing her body down onto the heel of her hand, pressing that hot, swollen knot of her clitoris. His mouth suckling her. His fingers entering her. At some point him driving up into her, holding her thighs, watching their union and –
    Sophie came, the orgasm hitting her hard and clenching her cunt up tight around her moving fingers. She pushed her mouth to the pillow and let it all out. All the tension she’d stored up without realising she’d done it. All the need she’d been carrying around, oblivious of its weight on her. She cried out her release into the pillow and when her body stopped flickering and twitching with echoes of orgasm, she rolled to her back, sated and still tired.
    It hadn’t been lost on her, though, that during the whole mental scenario, as this dream man went down on her and licked the orgasm right out of her willing body … he had no face. No matter