Page 1 of Not In Love

CHAPTER1

It had been a long while since Dr. Kashmira Shah had felt the aching stretch of a cock or a sweaty body pounding into her or an eager mouth eating her out.

And on that rainy November afternoon, all she wanted was one measly orgasm. One tiny release so that she could be easy in her skin.

Dressed in a peach-colored spaghetti top and nothing else, she crawled into her bed, like a thief sneaking into someone’s house. The soft cotton quilt she’d custom ordered from a women-owned business in India slid against her smooth legs like butter.

Kash scooted her ass to sit up and gasped as her bare pussy rubbed up against the sheets, a mix of lube and her arousal coating her inner thighs. The erotic dragon smut she’d read on her kindle in the bath had done its job. As had the tingling new lube she’d used to finger herself.

Now, she just had to fall over the edge.

Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes.

The unusual quiet in her two-story house felt jarring on her strung-out nerves, even though it was exactly what she’d been craving for weeks now. No running footsteps, no SpongeBob blaring on the plasma TV, no loud sounds from dishes clanking in the kitchen.

Not her nine-year-old niece Tia wanting a cuddle, not her mother going on about how Kash—head of the cardiology department at Portland’s biggest hospital at forty-one—needed a man. No calls from the hospital.

Just her and her bed, in the soft hush of late afternoon, the November gray light filtering through her bedroom window. Having an afternoon to herself was a rare treat. Tia was off with her dad for the day, Kash’s mother was visiting a cousin in Seattle, and her phone was on silent.

Muttering a curse, Kash jumped out of the bed, grabbed the old CD player tucked up in a plastic box from the closet, plugged it in and inserted one of her late husband’s favorite Jazz CDs. Then, she got back into the bed, relaxed her shoulders into the headboard and thought of all her favorite things about sex and intimacy.

The scent of the lavender body oil she’d massaged herself with lingered in her nostrils. Closing her eyes, she touched the sensitive spot behind her neck, then trailed her fingers down the shell of her ear slowly. Her skin tingled in response.

She wanted to give in to sensation. But three and a half years after the accident that killed her husband Simon and her sister Kat, grief still crawled in through the cracks.

God, she had adored him and his easy laughter, his paunchy but hefty frame that had softened in his late fifties, his eagerness to make her come with toys while he himself had no libido.

She had been thirty-six and Simon, at fifty-eight, an influential member of the hospital administrative board, when they had married. His family, and even some of her colleagues, had called her an ambitious gold-digger but she hadn’t cared.

After spending all her life taking care of everyone around her, she had loved being spoiled by Simon, loved not coming to an empty home, loved being the center of his sophisticated world.

Now, he was gone, and it was as if her body had shut down without him to anchor it. She scrubbed a hand over the lone tear dripping down her cheek.

The same accident had stolen her sister Katrina too, leaving Kash with a five-year-old niece who needed stability, and a mother who had fallen apart at losing her youngest child.

Kash couldn’t imagine jumping back into the dating pool or indulging in a casual fling. She had neither the time nor the energy to accommodate someone else’s tender feelings.

Shaking her head, as if the action could dispel grief’s sneak attack, she took another deep breath and relaxed against the pillows. The sultry tunes of the jazz solo snuck through her in smoky, velvety rings, bringing to mind those decadent nights with Simon when he would play with her, before finally getting her off.

The scent of the lavender body oil she’d massaged herself with lingered in her nostrils. Closing her eyes, she touched the sensitive spot behind her neck, then trailed her fingers down the shell of her ear slowly. Her skin tingled in response.

With a shuddering breath, she continued to drag her fingers down the arch of her neck to the swells of her breasts. Goosebumps dotted her skin.

She thought of the dragon shapeshifter pounding his lover as she snuck her hand under the stretchy fabric of her tank top and tweaked her aching nipple. On and on, she danced her fingers from her ear to her pubic bone, never stopping, never lingering. Tricking her body into thinking it was another’s touch.

Tension thrummed through her, making her arch and undulate on the bed. Finally, she traced the shape of her slippery folds. One finger, then two, she plunged them into her core.

A moan rippled out of her as she thrust her hips into her hands, making the large bed creak. With her other hand, she pinched her nipple and tugged at it roughly. Sensations arrowed to her core, and she kept up the wild thrusting of her hips.

Almost there, she told herself, licking her lips. Her body thrummed, pitching itself higher and higher. Her pussy made wet, slurping sounds but still needed more. Puffing and panting, Kash kept the pad of her thumb over her clit.

She circled it faster and faster. Like a mirage in a dessert, her climax shimmered closer and closer. Her skin hummed, close to snapping point.

She increased the speed of her fingers plunging in and out, of her thumb against her clit. Her breath huffed out of her in soft pants and she was almost there and…

Her gaze caught on the framed pic of her and Katrina and her mom and Tia on the opposite wall, and her mind checked out of her body.

“No, no, no, please,” Kash whispered to herself, begging her system to come back online. Jaw clenched, she worked her hand rhythmically. Her wrist ached, her folds felt like rubber petals, void of any sensation.

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