“Yes,” she pants, sliding her hands up my body. “All I have to do is think of you, and I’m dripping.”
“Damn fucking right,” I say. I start to roll my hips.
“God, Pia.” She grips my hips, helps to move me. “I’ve imagined this every day since you left, but this is still so much better than anything my imagination could come up with.”
“Fuck,” I grunt out. I’m so fucking turned on. And so desperate to come.
It’s been weeks. At first, on the tour, I’d get myself off multiple times a day, just to the thought of her warm breath against my neck or her fingers in my hair, but then it got so sad, so miserable having to only think of her, to not be able to magic her next to me. It only heightened her absence. And I fucking hated that. So I stopped masturbating completely, and now I’m a hot mess who cannot be tamed.
“I need to come,” I say, part-explanation, part-apology as I spread my legs and rest my cunt on hers. She’s so smooth there, not a single hair. I imagine her getting one of her silly waxes for me.Fucking yes.
“Please, do it,” she says, moving my body against her.
I ride her hard and fast. Her hands roam my body as I do. She plays with my nipples, gently at first but then adding rough twists and pinches, and I moan with the shock and pleasure of feeling so fucking much. The whole time her eyes are on my face or my body. It’s like she can’t decide what to look at, what to enjoy. That is until I’m holding my breath, rutting so quickly a part of me fears I’m going to hurt her or give her some kind of fucking abrasion. I should find some lubricant, but I can’t stop. I can’t fucking stop. I can’t stop fucking her, and I can’t stop loving her.
“Am I…hurting you?” I manage to say as my climax hurtles towards me.
“No, Pia, God, no…” She sighs. “At least not in a bad way.”
That comment has me travelling back in time to a musty hotel room where I first kissed her, touched her, got a taste of her. It feels like yesterday. It feels like forever ago.
“Fuck, Cassie, fuck,” I drag the last word out as my orgasm explodes inside me and I swear, outside of me. I’m moaning, groaning, and still rocking my hips. My eyes are closed, but I know Cassie is watching me. I can feel her smiling at me as her hands stay firm on my hips.
I curse in Swedish as the last detonations of pleasure start to fade away. And then I collapse on her and bury my head in the curve of her neck. I want to laugh. I want to cry. I want to sleep. I want to sing. I want to do this for the rest of my fucking life.
“God, I’ve missed you,” Cassie says again, filling the silence as her arms envelop me.
I’ve been held by many people over the last ten years or so. But nobody has made me feel safe in their arms. In fact, I don’t ever remember being held and feeling this safe.
It’s incredible.
It’s overwhelming.
It’s not for now.
I push out of her embrace and roll to the side of Cassie. I glide my hand down her body and find her clit. Her legs instantly part for me.
“Oh, Jesus,” she hisses, and she tips her head back.
I play with her – small circles, gentle strokes – until she’s writhing next to me, and then I push a finger inside her. She’s hotter and wetter and tighter than any of the filthy memories I’ve held onto had me believe.
I curl my finger up and stroke her front wall, my thumb still busy on her clit. Cassie grabs hold of my arm, like she needs it as an anchor.
“Yes,” she says, but it sounds like she’s anything but satisfied.
“You want another finger?”
“Please, yes, please.”
I slide my index finger insider her, too, and hook it. Cassie moans so loudly I feel it vibrate in my chest. Thank fuck for my hearing aid. I would hate to miss a single noise she’s making.
My speed increases as I fuck her, and so do her breaths, her gasps, her little moans.
“Think you can take another one?” I ask.
“Yes, Pia,” she says without hesitation, her body fucking my hand.
“It might hurt,” I warn.