Page 14 of She's Like the Wind
She grabbed the pearls from around her neck and pulled them taut, running them over her clit in slow, deliberate strokes.
The coolness of the pearls against her heated flesh made her gasp, her back arching off the chaise as she rubbed faster and faster, her hips jerking uncontrollably.
“Gage,” she moaned, and fuck, hearing my name on her lips as she was about to come was enough to make my balls tighten.
Her fingers were still inside her, fucking herself deep as she came undone on the pearls. Her pussy was probably clamping down on her hand, I thought, as she rode out the waves of her orgasm.
Her juices spilled over her fingers, dripping down onto her thighs as she collapsed back against the chaise, her chest heaving, her body trembling with the aftershocks.
I unbuckled my belt, unzipped my jeans, and pulled my cock out as I walked to her.
Her eyes met mine. She smirked, lazy and satisfied.
“Oh look, you’re hard,” she cooed.
“Suck me off, baby.” I put my hand on the back of her head, pulling her close to me.
She took me inside her mouth and….
I ran a hand through my hair, hot and bothered, hard as steel.
The thought emerged almost painfully inside of me:I miss her.
God, I miss her so fucking much.
I almost went inside.
Almost pushed open the door, found her, and said—what?
That I was sorry?
That I couldn’t stop thinking about the way she used to wake me up with her mouth on my cock, the way she kissed me like a promise?
That I was starting to remember how it felt to be happy while I now stood in an emotional wasteland?
I stepped into the shadows when I saw her open the door from the inside to let a customer out.
Tall, well-dressed. Clean-cut. Smiling like he’d just been handed the keys to a dream. He held an Aire Noire bag in one hand, laughing at something she said.
She was smiling, too.
Not the big one. Not the one that cracked across her face like sunrise. But a soft one. Polite. Present.
I stared, blood running cold with the familiar throb of jealousy I could never seem to shake when it came to her.
Was he hitting on her?
Was he buying silky lingerie for someone else?
Did she model it for him as she did for me?
She’s not yours, dipshit. Move the fuck on!
Fuck that!
I hated that man because he got to stand near her, talk to her, see her, have her smile at him, be nice, polite…beautiful.
AndIdidn’t.
