“Put those fingers to use and find out.”
Being so sleep deprived, so starved of even an iota of self-care navigating life as a single mom, my sex life felt like a luxury I couldn’t afford. Besides, up until now, the only person who’d conjured those feelings in me had been Atlas. It almost seemed easier to chip away that facet of myself—the one that used to fuck unashamed in the moonlight.
When was the last time I’d even felt like that witch?
“You still there, Wicked? Need me to send some encouragement?”
“Please don’t!” I said much too quickly, not ready for another punishing pleasure wave to smack my witchy bits. “Just give me a moment. I’m very out of practice with this.”
“You think this is something I practice often?”
“Probably.” I laughed, shaking my head. “Have you seen yourself?”
“I have.” He chuckled in response, running a hand through his hair. “But this isn’t something I make a habit of.”
“What are you going to do?” I asked, awkwardly. Was he going to stand there while I did this? How would I even look him in the eye tomorrow, or Saros for that matter?
“I’m going to enjoy the show, Wicked.”
“But you can’t even see.” My gaze dropped to my drapey dress that left much to the imagination.
“I don’t need to. I can feel you.”
Empath vibes.“All the way from there?”
“What do you think?” he taunted. A tsunami of want washed through me, and I clenched my thighs tighter.
This was going to take some getting used to. Not that there would necessarily be more after tonight. Maybe there wouldn’t be. I didn’t know, and that was both scary and part of the allure.
Be brave, Oakley.
He was all the way across the cul-de-sac and could sense if I needed to stop. I knew he wouldn’t push me to do anything if I said no, even if my insides—my Desire—was shouting at me to take him into the pines.
He unbuckled the belt of his jeans, pulling down at the waist until a long, thick outline bobbed in the window. I suddenly wished there wasn’t a cul-de-sac or these stupid walls between us. “Now fuck that pretty pussy and tell me how soaked you are.”
His words, his desire, were like a bolt of adrenaline striking me deep. Silently, I obeyed, gripping the skirt of my maxi and bunching the fabric in one hand until it was at my thigh. My free hand trailed the skin there, body aching for it to go higher. I lifted the dress a few more inches, gaze dropping when my fingers came to a halt at the crop of curls settled at my center.
I probably could do with a shave. Or wax. My core winced at the thought.
“Eyes on me, Wicked.”
And just like that, my attention snapped back up to Lynx’s illuminated perfection in the window. Somehow, he looked even larger than he had a moment ago, his body shifting so I could see the full length of him. He gripped himself, giving a long, mouth-watering stroke.
Scraps of lust floated giddily up my tummy, warming my chest, cheering at the sight. My gift wanted him.
But more importantly,Iwanted him.
Dipping tentatively into my folds, I steadied my leg on the windowseat, my other hand holding my dress high enough to reach without putting myself on display.
But he was.
He twisted up and down his shaft in rough, commanding movements that made me slick. I brushed along my seam, sinking two fingers inside of myself. My thumb strummed experimentally at my clit, playing with the pressure while I curled my fingers in time with his strokes. His upper arm flexed, muscles taut in the coppery moonlight, and I could hear his breath quicken through the phone.
“You like it, don’t you?” he teased, tone flooded with mirth. “Seeing what you do to me.”
My exhales came out in ragged spurts, intensity building deliciously under my touch. “I do.”
Pulsing against my clit in quick succession, my breath caught, legs starting to quiver. I was getting close.
