It’s still not enough.
My body aches, jerking with each roll of my hips, but I need more.
Harder faster firmer
I need Dominus.
I groan, rolling back onto my back and repositioning both hands between my legs. With one hand I tease at the lips of my pussy, soft, gentle brushes of my fingers as I pull myself open wider and sink my fingers back inside.
Giving up on mimicking Dominus, the image of him watching me forms in my mind. He’s sitting on the edge of my bed, urging me to touch myself, to please myself for him.
I imagine his rough, robotic voice when he told me it would please him very much, and I settle two fingers over my clit, then begin to rub, teasing at first, as if he’s watching.
The euphoric sensation begins to bloom outward from the base of my spine, turning my blood to molten lava as I pump my fingers in and out quickly, matching the speed with the other hand and rubbing my clit until my body bucks upward.
“Oh fuck,” I moan, “please.”
“Come for me,”Dominus says in my mind, and I obey.
The sun is bright when I exit my car, leaving it with the valet and praying someone here will validate the ticket. I’ve dressed in my best ‘I only golf once a year’ outfit which has apparently shrunk since last year, or the ten pounds I’ve put on in that time have something to do with the snug fit around my backside.
But after snoozing my alarm three times, then spending far too long imagining my masked man's hand between my legs, I left myself little time to get ready and arrive on time. Definitely not enough time to find a completely new outfit.
Anderson waits for me near one golf cart in a long line of many, dressed in an old timey golf outfit, complete with Scottish cap, puff ball on top included.
“Stop,” I say as I reach him, grinning at his getup. “This is even better than last year.”
Anderson laughs, then hands me a massive Styrofoam cup.
“Who all’s here this year?” I bring the straw to my lips. “What’s this?” I ask, then take a sip. After a long pull, I widen my eyes. “This entire thing is champagne?”
“It’s a mimosa, and you’re welcome.”
I lift one brow.
My cousin laughs. “What? There’s juice in there.”
I take another sip. “Are you sure?”
He shrugs. “The essence of citrus, anyway. I sort of just walked by the orange grove over there on my way over here.” He nudges the cup toward my lips. “Drink up. You’ll need it.”
I freeze. “What does that mean?”
His gaze flicks past me and he winces, then leans in to whisper, “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Pulling back, he perks up, grinning widely at whomever approaches behind us.
“Morning,” a familiar male voice says from behind me.
Unwarranted—very,veryunwarranted—a shiver runs down my spine. I wish I could blame it on the weather, but it’s only nine o’clock and the morning sun is already beating down on us. My eyes narrow on Anderson, but he’s no help. He just remains smiling as Max steps into my line of vision.
I reluctantly turn to greet him. “Oh, it’s you.”
Max’s eyebrows fly up his forehead. “Oh, it’s me? Is that how they say ‘hello’ where you’re from?”
I bite back a retort and sip my mimosa, taking Anderson’s advice because he’s right; I am going to need this.
“You two already set up in a foursome?” Max asks, looking back and forth between my cousin and me.
“Yes!” I blurt, just as Anderson says, “No.”
