Girl Fever (26 page)

“Do you know how often I've imagined this?” she says, teasing me with kisses through the gusset of my panties. “How many times I've stroked myself, imagining you coming undone while I fuck you, right here in this chair?”

I moan, lost in the visual of her stroking off, and then she pulls my panties to one side and her tongue is pressing into my slick folds, seeking and finding my engorged clit and sending me over the edge, almost before she's even begun.

“Cris!”
I can't stop the breathy cry, and she stands up quickly, covering my mouth with hers, her tongue filling my mouth with the taste of my arousal.

“Shh…” she whispers against my lips, fingers dipping into my still-spasming cunt, “you don't want the whole office to know you're in here getting fucked, do you?” She's thrusting into me, two fingers curling up to hit my G-spot, thumb stroking my clit, sending me right back to the brink.

There's a knock at my door.

“Lauren?” It's Cassie from accounting.

My eyes fly to Cris's. She smiles wickedly and keeps right on fucking me, pressing her other hand over my mouth as she drives me to a second shattering orgasm in as many minutes, my cry of release muffled behind her hand.

“Is everything all right?” It's Cassie again, clearly perplexed by the locked door and strange sounds.

Cris releases me with one last hungry kiss, then makes a show of licking my juices from her fingers. It's hypnotizing, watching her tongue travel their length, her mouth suck them clean. She knows she's got me ready to go all over again, but she just arches an eyebrow and inclines her head toward the door. Right. Cassie.

“Everything's fine, Cassie,” I say in a cool, professional tone that completely belies my postorgasmic, disheveled state. “Cris and I just have a couple of things to work out before the meeting.”

“Oh. All right. I guess I'll just meet you guys in there.” She leaves.

I stand up and try to smooth out my skirt, a process hampered by the proximity of Cris's body and her hands on my ass.

“You know,” she says, tongue tracing the sensitive line of my neck, making me shiver, “I don't think we're going to be able to work all these things out today.”

“Mmm…” I agree completely, already imagining her naked in my bed. “What do you say to a little late-night planning session, my place?”

“I'll be there.”

 

 

 

 

 

S
he was hovering over the jewelry case when I saw her first, her face a double reflection—two smiles, two sets of teeth. Her fingers tapped the glass, pointing out a silver pheasant studded with paste diamonds.

“How much is the peacock?” Her voice had Irish notes.

I smiled. I didn't correct her. “Let me buy you a drink and I'll call it a gift.”

There was a pause, during which I fell over, burst into tears, apologized profusely, tore my clothes off and lay down on the ground and stopped moving.

“Yeah. Sure. Five o'clock?”

I breathed out and released the moon from where I'd stuck it in orbit, let the tides return to normal and the birds sing again.

I placed the brooch on the table between us. The fake jewels glittered under lights in the bar.

“It's not worth anything much,” I said, tasting the froth of the beer on my lips, watching to see if she'd lick hers. Wondering how her smile tasted. Knowing it would be moreish. “Still want it?”

I followed her into the ladies'. Against the full-length mirror, I pushed her flat out, pinned her shoulders, placed her straight and delicate with her back to the glass. I kissed the crook of her neck, the inside of her elbows, the top of her knees. I wanted her splayed across my bed. Spatchcock. How many times had she done this before? Was I counting?

When I gathered my purse from the table and left with her hand tucked into mine, I felt like a shoplifter. Like I'd stolen an exotic specimen from a private aviary.

But: “Come to mine. It's closer,” she said, and I followed.

At her building, we ascended in a lift like a gold cage. She had me against the bars, trapped my hands between her lips and bit, gently. I feathered my eyelashes against her cheek, cooed softly. She called my name. A bell rang. We'd arrived.

She offered me a bowl of sunflower seeds, dripped wine into my mouth and let it spill over my lips, run down my throat with a tickle.

Silent, I shed coat, boots, blouse, skirt and socks and let them fall to the floor. I sat there in my underwear,
pink and shell colored, shivering. My skin was goose bumped. Her mouth was warm. She drew herself over me like a counterpane. We drifted onto the sofa; I nestled into her corners. The point between her legs was shaved, a little prickly against my cheek. I nuzzled. She smelled of just baked bread and melted butter. I nibbled. Slipped my tongue into a roll, curled it around inside her. I heard her cry out, sing with a full-throated cry.

 

We hid indoors for two days, pecking inquisitively, opening each other up and looking inside. She gave me a necklace of love bites. I gave her a few secrets, thinly wrapped and not all that shiny once I looked at them in daylight. Mostly, we tried to feed on each other; mouths attached to cunt, breast or mouth; fingers tugging, working, playing; heartbeats rising and falling as we passed orgasms back and forth, dipping into each other like inkwells, writing stories on each other's flesh.

 

On Tuesday I tried to leave, with my trinkets and my keys wrapped in a silk handkerchief. The floor was wet with her tears. I slipped, turned an ankle. Limped back to bed, where she fed me with pity and promises. I grew fat. We made a chorus of mews like birds imitating cats. Howled all night. Scratched a little. Yes, even the prettiest peahens have claws. And if not beaks, then teeth, always something hard and sharp.

She spat curses at me while I slept. I woke up feverish, tried to wash myself in her future, kissed her
until my mouth was numb and my lips were red. I knew, of course, the way home, though the thought made me shake. I had to leave by the window. Naked. Trust my bones not to be brittle, my rubber heart to bounce, my wings to suddenly feather and grow strong. I rocked on the sill. The breeze tugged.

Midair, I called her name, but it came out a strangled crow-squawk. As I tumbled toward the ground, the long, lovesick song fell from my mouth like a skylark's, a hundred invisible silk parachutes, in tatters and rags.

 

 

 

 

 

T
his garden sure is beautiful. I'd love to live here,” said my girlfriend, Izzy, as we walked hand in hand down the gravel path.

“What, out here?” I joked. “You might get a little chilly in the winter!”

“No, silly.” She nudged me. “I mean I'd love to live in the house and have this as my back garden.”

Izzy turned to face the building we'd recently exited. I turned too. She was absolutely right, of course. An old manor house open to the public, Newberry House was all high ceilings, four-poster beds and creaking floorboards. A quaint old pile that many people would love to call home.

“It
is
lovely, sweetheart,” I said, tucking my arm into Izzy's and steering her round so we could continue our
exploration of the grounds. “If I won the lottery, I'd buy you whatever house you wanted.”

“Aww, we can but dream, eh?”

“Mmm.” I said, nodding and falling into step with her as we continued our stroll in a companionable silence for a while, enjoying the scenery. Every now and again we'd glance back toward the house to see it from different angles. Soon, though, we moved into a part of the grounds where that view was lost.

High hedges lined the path on one side, and a mixture of trees and undergrowth adorned the other. It was a beautiful day. I sighed contentedly, drawing a smile from Izzy and a squeeze of my hand. I squeezed back. Seconds later, I received an entirely spontaneous pressure on my fingers, and Izzy crowded in close to me, her eyes wide and hand covering her mouth.

“Whatever's the matter?” I said, thinking at first she'd seen a spider or something. But she didn't look scared, merely shocked.

She pointed straight ahead. Before us was an alcove set into the hedge. Within it stood a beautiful white statue on a plinth. Judging from Izzy's reaction, though, the beauty of the piece wasn't what had attracted her attention.

“What's up, Izz?” I said, confused now.

“Look at it!” she breathed, her eyes still betraying her surprise. “She's…she's naked!”

I frowned. “Um…yes? What's the problem with that?”

“Well, you can see…everything! And she's touching herself.”

Izzy's statement wasn't strictly true. You could see most of the subject's body, including high rounded breasts and curvy stomach and thighs, but the hand crammed between her legs meant that whatever delights lay between them were hidden.

I was reeling with shock that my girlfriend, who'd seen and touched my naked feminine form on countless occasions, was offended by a statue in the grounds of a stately home.

“Izz, what's the problem?”

“Well, it's just that…anyone could see!”

I shook my head, still disbelieving. “Oh, don't be such a Little Miss Goody Two-Shoes. You've seen enough tits, pussy and ass to not be shocked by this, surely!”

She looked at me then, the hurt expression in her eyes enough to make me feel bad. Not bad enough to backtrack—I still thought she was bonkers—but enough for me to want to make her feel better.

I took Izzy's hand and tugged her with me into the alcove, slipping behind the statue. From there, of course, we could see the statue's perfectly molded asscheeks, and the beautiful arch of her back.

“Come on, Izz,” I said, indicating what I was admiring, “don't you think she's beautiful?”

Slipping an arm around my girl's waist and pulling her tightly to me, I murmured in her ear, “Wouldn't you
like to grip those asscheeks as you kissed her? Feel those tits pressing against yours?”

I drew closer still and flicked my tongue in Izzy's ear, making her squirm in my grasp. “Wouldn't you like to pull her hand away and replace it with yours? Stroke her clit, her pussy? Slip your fingers inside her hot, wet hole and pump her until she came?”

By now, the arm I'd had around her waist had moved, my hand slipping down my girl's back, over her ass and between her legs. I flipped up the hem of her pretty summer dress, cupping her crotch through her panties. I could feel the delicious heat of her pussy through the cotton underwear, and when I rubbed my flattened hand against her vulva, Izzy moaned.

The sound sent an insane shock of want zipping through my body. I tried to tell myself that it wasn't the time or the place to get frisky, but when Izzy rocked her hips, trying to get more friction from my hand, I couldn't help myself.

I grabbed Izzy and pulled her to me, pressing my lips forcefully to hers. She opened her mouth immediately, eager to deepen our kiss. I responded, my tongue exploring my girl's beautiful mouth until she suddenly yanked away, murmuring a single word.

“More…”

I pushed her backward until her body was pressed up against the statue's plinth. Then I dropped to my knees in the gravel, pushing her dress up. I lightly slapped the insides of her calves, indicating she should open her legs.

Obeying, Izzy moved her feet apart a little. I caught the scent of her arousal and immediately had to taste it. There was no time for teasing. I was determined to lick my girl's pussy until she came on my face. I pulled her knickers roughly to one side and pushed my face between her thighs. My mouth went to where she needed it most, the soft skin already slick with juices. I slipped my tongue between her labia, moans and groans issuing from above as I pleasured my girl with my lips, teeth and tongue. I grinned inwardly at the sounds she was making; it appeared she was so lost to lust she'd completely forgotten where she was. I just hoped I could make her come before we got caught.

I alternately flicked and sucked at Izzy's clit, every now and again dipping my tongue down to slurp up the sweet juices that slid from her hot pussy. Before long, the telltale signs of her approaching orgasm became apparent. Her thighs tensed and she bucked against my face, silently urging me to go faster. I obliged, pulling her distended clit into my mouth and sucking it for all I was worth.

Izzy stiffened. Her back arched as she edged toward the precipice, then toppled off, her fall indicated by her wail of ecstasy and the way her hands suddenly gripped my hair and held my face tightly to her cunt. I could do nothing but let her ride it out, my tongue delving in her folds as her pussy twitched and spasmed and her cream ran into my eager mouth.