I'm wet. Soaked really. I should be driving home and crawling into bed, but I'm too worked up.
His words. His voice.
I wanted it to be me. I want his cock in my mouth. My tongue sliding up his length, slipping across the tip and then swallowing him whole. I want to watch him while I do it too. I want to watch his face, to see what he likes best. What makes him tighten his hold in my hair and thrust his hips forward, what I could do to make him pant and moan and say my name. I want to know if he likes it a little bit rough, just a hint of teeth, or maybe he prefers all slippery tongue and wet sucking. I'd beg him to use my mouth...use me.
This is crazy because I don't even know him, but the things he says, I feel like they're for me... about me.
And now I'm as wet and swollen as he described. I want to be laid out for him, bare and begging for his tongue. I want him to taste me, to slip his tongue inside and fuck me with it. I want his shoulders to push my thighs wide and I want … I want things I don't have.
Instead I'm here, sitting in my car, my hand slipping over damp silk, thinking of a stranger's voice, dreading my empty house and realizing that he completely forgot to ask me about my confession.
A/N
Thank you for reading and letting us have a little fun.
And a huge thanks to the amazing girls who pre-read for us. Obsmama, Kassiah and Kourt – we adore you.
Thanks to Marvar for betaing all the words, and not flouncing us.
Remember to check out the Mark Me Contest - We'll be accepting entries starting Sept 1!
xoxo,
Jaime and Cosmo
