Wetness pools in my knickers, but I make no move to peel those from my body, instead reaching for a spare pillow and straddling it, knees spread and sinking into the soft mattress beneath.
Slowly, ever so slowly, I grind down on the edge of the pillow, searching for that spot to—
There.
Holy fuck.
I gasp and hum – the sound loud in my otherwise silent apartment.
Cupping the entire weight of my breast with my left hand, I gather my hair up and off my neck with the other hand.
It’s easy, a littletooeasy, to imagine it’s Hudson behind me; his much larger hand holding my hair, the soft strands slipping between his fingers, his grip becoming just on the side of painful when he becomes lost in pleasure.
The pleasure he’s giving me…
The pleasure he’s losing himself in…
I want it, I want it, I want—
I don’t try to hold back the hiss escaping past my lips as I rub my clit back and forth, back and forth, back and forth against the pillow. It feels so fucking good, addictive, the silk texture of my knickers gliding against the folds of my pussy, only adding to the heightened sensation.
The cold feel of my gold ring bites into the sensitive flesh of my breast from where I’m touching myself, but I pay it no heed.
I’m too focused on my need to come.
My breathing becomes choppy and uneven as I move my body, unconscious about the way I look, or the rolls of flesh my skin is creating. My body does so much for me – allowing me to dance, hug those I love the most in this world and create ecstasy so deep it’s practically addictive.
The cheap bedframe creaks beneath me, my knees slip, lacking purchase in the tangled cotton bedsheets and a subtle ache begins to grow in my inner thighs. But I don’t stop, I can’t, humping into the pillow until my stomach tightens and I fall forward, stomach swooping low, pressing my face into the mattress, and biting down on my blanket, hard, with a choked sound.
My pussy spasms, soaking my underwear and the pillow beneath, sending shocks of pleasure up and down my body until I’m boneless.
Barely, just barely, I manage to repress the whisper of Hudson’s name that oh so desperately wants to taint the air around me.
To remind me exactlywhoI want thinking of in my make-believe fantasy.
Fucking hell.
I pant into the sheets, my ears ringing with the force of my orgasm.
Only when my feet begin to tingle with numbness, do I force myself, shakily, up onto my hands and knees, peering down for a second at the visible wet spot staining my pillowcase. Evidence of just how hard I came.
I toss it off the side of the bed with a harsh exhale, crawling until I can settle against the headboard, knickers still sticky wet, and pat the rumpled sheets in the search for my phone.
Keying in my code, my social media app opens up to the last page I’d been looking at.
That photograph.
That kiss.
It’s like you’re the only two people in the world.
I miss that feeling.
My body chooses that moment to strike, my stomach swooping low and reminding me, with a not-so-subtle nudge, of all the pain a kiss like that can bring. A mixture of cloud nine happiness and terror all rolled into one.
Because a kiss that like is never simple. It’s a risk.Thatkind of kiss brings with it feelings and emotions and its own kind of baggage.
A rush of mixed emotions washes over me, the realisation of what I’ve just done beginning to settle in now the hormones and endorphins in my body are calming down.
