Page 65 of Warmer, Colder

“I’ve been summoned?”

Hoping she didn’t see anything; throw the pillow across the room like a guilty child and attempt to act natural…without any clothes on and the taste of her name still on my lips. Shame is the closest thing to warmth I’ve felt in a while as I pull the blanket hastily over my naked body. “What the hell are you doing?”

“I was just coming to make sure everything was okay. That our little ritual worked.” She smirks down at me. “I see mine have.”

“It’s not what it looks like,” I blurt out.

Her laugh is mocking. “Oh? Because what it looked like was you humping a pillow wishing it was my leg.”

I shake my head, my impending humiliation rendering me speechless.

But Stasi pays me no mind as she snatches up the pillow from where it was abandoned on the floor and brings it to her nose. Her inhale is almost a snarl. “Fuck, you have been adirty girl.” Holding eye contact, she’s a lion watching the injured gazelle across the pond as she drags her tongue across the fabric, lapping up the blood that’s been left behind by her prey. “Mmmmm,” she groans, the primitive bass of it sending an echoing throb to my clit. “Such a sweet little cunt to keep all to yourself.” She drops the pillow to the floor and comes closer. “So wet and needy, crying out for my touch.” She takes another step closer. “Now that’s not very nice, is it?” She leans down and clasps the back of my neck tightly as she reaches the bed. Tongue invading my mouth, I’m forced to taste myself, the heady mixture of her saliva and my essence is like a shot of high-proof alcohol into my bloodstream.It’s intoxicating and dangerous, and I immediately need another just to feel something.

My hands slip into her messy pink and blond hair, as if I could have any control over what she’s not willing to yield. The illusion sends another flood of arousal between my legs. My ego bends like putty in her hands. “Touch me, please.” All pretense of pridefalls away like the blanket that drops from my chest. I can meet her halfway. I can do this.

“So eager,” she taunts with a laugh. “Be careful, I might start to think you’ve missed me.” She talks over me before I can spit out a lie. “But don’t worry, I have no intention of pushing you into doing anything you don’t want to do.” Three fingers punctuate her sentence. “Scout’s honor.”

An embarrassing whimper escapes me at her promise.

“Why don’t you show me all the horrible things that I make you do to yourself? I want to see what I do to you.” Hand on my chest, she encourages me to lay back, then grabs the pillow off the floor, and walks over to the desk chair, resting her head on the back like this is the most normal thing in the world.

Sitting up on my elbows, I shoot her a glare. “You’re serious?”

“I interrupted you, it’s only fair that you get to finish. Wouldn’t want to take anything else from you, after all.” There’s that Cheshire cat smile. “What’s wrong, Crybaby? Do you need me to talk you through it?” Her tongue swipes over her lip. “Open your legs.”

My self-control cracking, I cave and part my knees, revealing myself to her.

“I’ll never get tired of that sight,” she sighs longingly. “Look at you, swollen and ready for a good fuck, a thing of beauty like that can’t go to waste, just wouldn’t be fair. And we know what a proponent of fairness you are.”

In protest, my legs start to shake as the desperation building inside me becomes unbearable. “Do you have to stare at me like that?”

“You’ll be lucky if I even let myself blink.” Stasi runs a hand through her hair, her eyes intent on my exposed pussy that throbs anxiously for her touch. “Now put that pillow back between your legs and finish what you started.”

A sigh of relief leaves me as I straddle the pillow and grind my hips. The pressure is insignificant, barely more than a slight brush of the fabric, but her eyes on me caress me in all the ways I yearn for. The pillow is simply a prop at this point, her presence the thing that’s pushing my pleasure higher and higher.

“How does that feel? Is it enough for that lonely little cunt of yours?”

Despite myself, I shake my head.

“That’s what I thought.” She stands and the adrenaline rush I get from her proximity is dizzying. “Turn over.” I don’t have much of a choice as she rips it from between my legs. Once I’m on my back, her hands curve around my knees and push them up gently. “Do me a favor and put one of your fingers inside.” Overcoming my self-consciousness, I do as she says.

As I slide in, she rolls my hips outward, eliciting a surprise gasp from me.

“You’re doing so well.” Her nails dig into my skin as her gaze remains fixed between my legs. “Do you hear that?”

“What?” I groan.

“Your pussy begging for more?” Stasi’s hands slide down my inner thighs, holding them open. “Add another.”

In and out, in and out, I drive my fingers inside me, mostly focused on taking in her facial expressions as she watches me.

“One more, sweetheart,” she coaxes. “Just one more, trust me. But let me help you first.” Leaning forward, she allows spit to spill from her mouth and onto my clit, where it drips slowly down my center. “There you go, that’ll make it easier.” I want to be disgusted but I can’t find an objection when it feels so damn good. “One day I’m going to wear you like a bracelet, when your body has decided it’s ready to be stretched and used by me. Would you like me to fill you up and call you my pretty little thing?”

Dragging my finger through the trail of spit, I insert it inside myself, writhing at the delectable fullness of it. “Oh—” I gasp. “Oh, shit, yes.” My hips rock chasing the sensation.

“How does that feel with those lithe little fingers creating such a nice stretch in that tight, neglected pussy?”

“It’s perfect,” I groan.

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