Page 151 of The Snowball Effect

Regan was an acquired taste, but she was Emma’s taste. And fuck, if that didn’t both make Regan’s heart skip a beat with sheer delight at the same time that it made her throb between her legs. What a feeling.

And then the kiss.

God, Regan had never been kissed like that, before. Like Emma had wanted to devour her whole, and Regan had felt the very same.

She totally understood and respected Emma’s comment about not wanting to rush things, which was why she’d endedthe date at their front door. She’d very deliberately not made any direct contact with Emma once they crossed the threshold into their apartment.

Because Regan had never in her life desired someone the way she did Emma, and right now, that desire felt like it was alive. Like a living, breathing need that had its own drive inside of her.

She knew without a single doubt that if she so much as accidentally brushed against Emma as they’d walked into their apartment after the official end of their date, that the tenuous hold she had on her self-control would snap.

Emma seemed to have felt the same, as she’d taken a deep breath and wished Regan a good night, and said, “It’s probably… wise, if we go our separate ways for the evening.”

“Probably,” Regan had, unfortunately, agreed.

Admittedly, it was after ten o’clock and itwasa worknight for Emma, so it made sense.

Emma telling Regan, after awkwardly shifting from foot to foot, that she was going to hop in the shower before bed wasnothelping Regan’s state of affairs.

She’d resolutely made herself stay in her bedroom to avoid any temptation after that. Because she’d seen Emma topless multiple times, now, and if it drove Regan to the brink of wanting distractionbefore, she could only imagine what it would do to her, now.

And now, she very definitively knew that she was hungry to see more. Yes, Emma wore very sexy lingerie that showcased her ample chest, and Regan appreciated that. Very much. But she was desperate to see more. To see all of Emma.

And that desperation was what kept Regan awake right now.

She’d hoped that the fever born from their hallway make-out would fade, but it wasn’t. At all.

Laying on her back on top of her comforter, stripped down to the comfy shorts and old t-shirt she planned to sleep in, Regan’seyes were wide open, staring up at her ceiling. She kept her hands tightly interlocked over her lower stomach.

“You will not touch yourself,” she sternly said, for the fifth time.

Honestly, Regan hadnoidea how else she was going to be able to relax enough to fall asleep if she didn’t get any sort of relief. Her clit was pulsing and she was so wet, she could feel it, and if this wereanyother situation, Regan would have already had her vibrator out and made herself come at least once.

She supposed this was all wrapped up in the quandary Emma had about them going out in the first place. Fine, so Emma likely wasn’t thinking about the sexual dynamics post-date, but Regan didn’t know what was appropriate here.

Was it disrespectful or inappropriate or whatever, to work herself into a toe-curling orgasm with Emma, who was just across the hall, as the star of her sexual thoughts?

Sure, yes, Emma had been starring in Regan’s fantasies for weeks now, but… it wasdifferent. Those were all just – literal fantasy. It was like reading a spicy story or something. It didn’t feel like the same thing to think about Emma while touching herself after going on a literal date together, while Emma was, like, ten feet away.

Plus, after Monday, Regan was trying to be a bit more… conscientious.

“Conscientiousness sucks,” she whined to herself, clenching her thighs tightly together, and thenimmediatelyregretting it.

The pressure gave her zero relief and – in fact – made the throbbing between her legs feel even more pronounced. She hadn’t even known that was possible!

She swore she could stillfeelEmma’s fingers on her bare thigh. Regan knew her shorts were the definition of short-shorts, and Emma’s searing touch had made a home just under the hem.Inches away from where she was so desperately needing to be touched, to be filled.

No, she’d never do something like beg Emma to have fucked her in the hallway outside of their apartment – Emma would never go for it – but if Regan closed her eyes and let her mind drift the tiniest bit… there it was. The vision playing out as if that had happened.

Regan rolling her hips desperately against Emma’s thick, perfect thigh and Emma pushing back into her, just as she’d done tonight. Only, it didn’t end there, in her mind’s eye. It –

Regan’s eyes snapped open as shesworeshe heard… something.

The apartment had been so quiet, you could hear a pin drop for twenty minutes, since she’d heard Emma go into her room for the night. Regan had been tempted to put on music or a movie; anything to help drown out her thoughts. Shehadn’t, because she apparently loved pain, and didn’t totally want to get rid of these thoughts.

She felt like a fucking bloodhound that had picked up a scent on a trail, holding her breath and tensing every muscle as she waited to see if she’d hear the sound again.

There! There it was again!

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