Page 93 of Cloud Storm

I have a thousand butterflies doing acrobatics in my belly. Will this get old someday? I don’t believe it will.

“And I’m outta here,” Roselynn says, pushing me into Lancelot’s arms while leaving.

“You look stunning,” he says, hugging me. “Where’s my kiss?”

He takes no prisoners, his lips over mine are demanding, dominating.

I could die in this kiss.

“Where are we going?”

He just smirks and I roll my eyes.

An eye for an eye it is then.

“Are you ready?”

“I hope so… with so little information.”

He replies by spanking my ass, the sting making the ache between my legs so much worse.

Trotting over to grab my vintage suitcase, I consider the idea of changing the skimpy panties I’m wearing for some grandma breeches. The lace is beautiful, but useless for practical purposes. I’m so wet already, and he only just got here.

I hope he’s taking me to a hotel room where he’s going to lock me up.

A girl can dream.

We’re in his car, he’s driving through the busy traffic on the narrow streets, the leather seats are warm and in this confined space the scent of his cologne is intense and it’s increasing my libido and making my knees weak. Thank fuck I’m sitting, otherwise I’d be a puddle.

Following my plan, I take a new lollipop from my leopard-print clutch and plug it in my mouth.

Out of the corner of my eye, I watch him squirming on his seat as he adjusts his dick.

Oh, sweet memories. Now I know firsthand what he’s hiding in there.

The anaconda, indeed.

“You should come with a warning,” he mutters to himself.

I reach out my hand, cupping his crotch shamelessly.

“You could give me something else to suck. You know how good I am at it.”

He clears his throat before taking my hand and kissing it.

“Rain check, little minx, we don’t have time for that right now.”

“Where are we going?”

The question of the fucking century.

“To amend the past,” he simply says, while taking the exit toward Harbor Drive.

Light bulb moment! I know where he’s taking me.

Less than five minutes later, Lancelot is opening the glass door of the restaurant. The same place where he stood me up that night. I know, he was ill, but I was here, waiting in the dark for hours. Humiliated.

The same man is standing behind the hostess podium and after Lancelot gives him the name on the reservation, he guides us to the same table in the corner.

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