Finding Orion

Evernight Publishing

www.evernightpublishing.com

Copyright© 2012 Erin Lark

 
ISBN:
978-1-77130-174-9

Cover
Artist: Sour Cherry Designs

Editor:
Melissa
Hosack

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

WARNING:
The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is
illegal.
 
No part of this book may be
used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission,
except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

This
is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any
resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or
dead, is entirely coincidental.

DEDICATION

To my beta reader, Angie, who turned a
small idea into so much more than
that.
I couldn’t
have done this without you.

FINDING ORION

Erin Lark

Copyright
© 2012

Chapter One

I could've
gone down to the bar, but getting intoxicated just to feel
something
was just as bad as drinking to get numb. Besides,
venturing out into the dim lighting of the bar scene almost always resulted in
some guy hanging all over me, and never the good kind. Either I'd get stuck
with a drunk I'd have to carry halfway up the steps or a Casanova who thinks
hammering into me is a good time.
Yeah, no thanks.
I
think I'll pass.

I honestly
wasn't sure how the girls did it at work. Hell, I still had a headache from
Karie
and Alex's 'night out'. Of course they had to drag me
along even though I’d insisted on staying home. Watching
those
two banter
over something as insignificant as a pen or some reality TV
show was nothing compared to the blaring music, strobe lights, and air so full
of fumes you couldn't help getting drunk from it.

Maybe that's
why
I barely
registered the warmth coming from the bullet vibrating against my clit. Granted,
I almost never did, but it wasn't for a lack of trying. Vibrators, fingers,
tongues, and even mouths didn't offer the comfort of release I'd come to know
and crave.
 
I'd tried the occasional
one-night stand, the hour-long foreplay with myself to the point of insanity,
and even entertained what may have been a long-term relationship or two—but
they all left me with a sense of longing for something I couldn't place.

And it wasn't
that I didn't have the desire or the need for sex. If anything, I was just as
horny as the men stepping into the bar under my apartment every night. But
unlike them where a quickie was just as good as a night of long kisses and
fondling my breasts, it was barely a blip on my erotic radar, and masturbation
was probably more like a blip and a half. It was hardly worth my time.

Granted,
every capable male I'd run in to lately seemed to share the same motto.
Get in. Get out.
The
faster the better.
Anymore, I couldn't be bothered with them.

Lying on my
back, I closed my eyes. I rocked my hips and arched my back. My body had no
problem remembering the motions, but the warmth I felt was more from the
plastic than any pleasure I may have gotten from the bullet.
Just get it over with so you can get to
sleep.
I couldn't rush it. Just this once, I would've liked to have felt
something. Anything!
A skipped heartbeat.
Fire on my cheeks.
Anything.

Clenching my
jaw, I held my breath. My heartbeat rang in my ears as I focused on it,
imagining a swell of blood rushing to my clit, of someone's fingers rubbing
against it.
 

I applied a
little more pressure.
Exhaled.
Moaned.
The sensation on my clit was stronger than before. Keeping my hand still, I let
my hips do all the work. The vibrator slipped between my pussy lips when I
thrust up and gently grazed my clit whenever I laid flat on the bed.

My pace
quickened when the buzz on my clit intensified. I gripped the vibrator between
my fingers, almost as if I'd let it go if I didn't.
Not yet.
With practiced control, I eased back on my fast rhythm,
edging before the first tremors of my orgasm could run up my spine.

Just because
it took more work for me to feel the white heat on my clit, that didn't mean I
was about to finish and send myself to bed half an hour early. While I waited
for my body to cool down, I removed my tank top and tossed it over the side of
the bed. I combed my fingers through my short brown hair before placing a
handful of pillows against the headboard.

Lying down
wasn't enough. I wanted—I needed to feel more.
Do
more. Repositioning myself so I was sitting up with my back
against the pillows, I started to tug and pinch at my breasts, twisting the
nipples so hard they hurt. I groaned and closed my eyes, gently pressing the
vibrator to my clit.

I shuddered
and bowed my head, using my free hand to hold my breast in such a way so I
could lick at it. Being able to fondle, nibble, and suck my own breasts was
well worth bragging about, but it had taken a lot of work to do it comfortably.
And while my breasts usually felt tender the day after, I didn't care. This was
something I needed. It's what I craved.

Bending my
knees, I started to rub the bullet around my clit in tight circles as I took a
nipple in my mouth. I carefully bit down.
Sucked on it.
Licked at it.

My back
arched away from the pillows and I threw my head back, moaning as white specs crowded
my vision. Heart racing, I knew it was too late to back off and edge again.
Too fucking close.
I was too close to pull back now. Not
when the heat on my clit was that warm, and certainly not when it felt this
good.

I wasn't sure
if it was the months of sexual frustration or a recent television show that
pushed me to the edge. Regardless of how I got there, I was happy to feel
something again.
You aren't numb.
Not
even close.

Too close!
"Shit..."

I bit at my
bottom lip. It made matters even worse.
Pain.
Pleasure.
They were the same exact thing. Anything I could
feel was worth remembering.

As the first
tremors of my latest orgasm danced across my spine, I slipped down onto the
bed, lying flat so I could rock my hips. The hand holding the vibrator shook as
my shoulder complained from the fire radiating underneath it.
Just a little longer.
I was so close.
Almost there.
So.
Fucking.
Clos—

"Fuck!"
I cried out as every single one of my nerve endings shot off, pushing me into
orbit. I heard nothing. Saw nothing. The only thing I could remember was the
warmth.
The heat against my clit.
Inside
me.
And as I slowly drifted back down to Earth, I turned off the bullet
and crawled under the covers. As the endorphins heated my blood, I found myself
drifting to sleep, dreaming.

****

It was still
dark when I opened my eyes.
 
I tried to
move my arms, but they were pinned down.
I
must've
laid
wrong,
I decided, having slept with
my arms above my head more than once. I wiggled my fingers, surprised when they
moved without the aftershock of pins and needles. I focused on my arms again, and
this time, I noticed a tight pressure around my wrists.

I furrowed my
brow and lifted my gaze, which widened at the sight of my hands cuffed to the
head of my bed. A deep pang of something, possibly fear, hit my stomach. I
should've been terrified, but I wasn’t. Instead, I homed in on the cuffs, on
the smooth leather, the silver fasteners, and delicate craftsmanship that
must've gone in to making them.

Surprisingly,
they didn't hurt. They weren't uncomfortable at all. And even though I couldn't
see the underlying fabric, I could tell whatever was pressed against my skin
was soft—comfortable enough to sleep in.
Which makes sense, seeing as you were asleep when they were put on.

I flexed my
hands and tugged against the bindings, not to get out of them, but to test
their strength. The side of the cuffs bit at my skin, but they didn't break.

"Does my
work please you?" a man asked, his voice on the edge of being too gentle
for having bound me to my bed.

I licked my
lips and searched the room. Something moved to my left, away from any windows
that may have shed some light on his overall appearance. But from what I could
see, he was a near perfect image of tall, dark, and handsome, except for his
hair, which was light in color. I could just barely make out the high
cheekbones of his face and the sparkling eyes staring back at me.

"Who are
you?" I asked, allowing the fear from before to return. "How'd you
get inside my apartment?" I'd bolted the front door and after checking the
window. It was locked as well.
There's no
way he could've gotten inside.

"You
invited me," the shadowy figure replied. His clothing rustled as he took a
step forward.

The hell I did!
He may have been hidden,
but there was no fucking way I would've forgotten a voice like that! Cool.
Placid.