Page 4 of Don't Run
One thing I’ve always been is a greedy little slut in need of a good fuck.
And I give it to myself regularly. But I won’t lie like I don’t miss someone else telling me what to do to get me there. I can watch all the porn and concoct all the scenarios in my head I want, but nothing beats having somebody else in the room,makingme do as they say.
Hissing, I tweak my nipple one last time before propping myself up on my elbows and splitting my gaze between the toy fucking me senseless and the couple on the laptop.
The man on the screen grips the woman he’s fucking by the waist with one hand and pulls her auburn tresses with the other, yanking her head back as he slams into her.
Bent over the kitchen table, he pounds her viciously and her moans echo off the walls.
Before long, a deep, animalistic growl comes from behind his mask before his hips jerk and all he can do is rut into her as he comes.
And just like that, I fall apart like this video isn’t saved to my favorites and I haven’t seen it at least ten times.
Toes pointed, I drag my gaze away from the mirror and back to my reflection. My contorted face is a mask of pleasure as my orgasm ripples through me and my fingers manically massage my clit, tripling the sensations assaulting me.
I scoot back, dragging the towel laid out beneath me along the hardwood floor.
“Shit,” I whimper when just the fat tip of the dildo is slipping in and out of me. My abs are still contracted from my last release, but a second rush of warmth hits me with each shallow pump.
Before my third climax can crest, I turn the dial, abruptly stopping the machine as a quivering sigh touches my lips.
“Now you just being greedy,” I chide myself. If I let that third orgasm hit me, I’ll be no more good by the time I get to that haunted house and I have no plans of letting the invitation go to waste.
After detaching the toy from the thruster, I head to my guest bathroom to wash it with the special cleanser it came with. Then I walk upstairs and get in the shower, cleansing my body with my favorite fall scented body wash.
By the time I get out, I smell like a warm apple pie. Letting the towel drop away from me, I lather on my moisturizers and let them air dry on my supple skin as I stand at the foot of the bed, debating which outfit to go with.
You’d think damn near two months would be enough time for me to settle on something, yet I’ve only narrowed it down to two.
Initially, the black bodysuit seemed like a winner. It hugs my size 16 curves like a glove and is comfortable as hell. But the reality of getting my back blown out in it makes me scratch my head every time I think about it. I can’t exactly get bent over and fucked on a whim if I have to take off my shoes and fight my way out of the tight garment.
So I peer at the second promising option. The black mini skirt and candy apple red latex halter is on my body before I can second guess it. It’s already ten o’clock, and the address that finally landed in my email a few hours ago is on the other side of Wildwood.
Right after stepping into my boots, I study myself in the full length mirror on my bedroom wall and douse myself in a mist of amber perfume.
Everything from the way my Triple Ds sit up in this top to the way my braids look splayed across my shoulders has me smiling at myself.
Since I’ll be wearing a mask all night, I keep my makeup simple, going for a smoky eye that compliments the fresh set of lashes I got on my lunch break yesterday.
Diamond studs twinkle on my earlobes and the flare of my wide hips already has my skirt riding up in dangerous territory.
Perfect.
“Damn, you look good,” I affirm my reflection.
Grabbing my purse to make sure my invitation is securely tucked inside, I add my phone, a few mints and my tube of lipstick.
In my car, I set my navigation to the address twenty-five minutes away and Trina fills my speakers as I back out of my parking spot. I cruise past the row of identical townhomes leading to the main road with “Nasty Bitch” blaring.
Ten minutes into my drive, I’m on the freeway wondering who I’m going to run into at this party.
All I know is that I plan to have it my way tonight, and I don’t care what it takes to make sure that happens.
WELCOME TO THE PARTY
It’swhen I’m pulling to a stop in front of the valet tent that I notice the black Victorian home looks familiar.
For as long as I can remember, it’s sat vacant on a run-down lot behind a massive iron gate kids braver than my scary ass liked to jump when we were growing up.
