Page 51 of Sterling Clay

Mavis is amazing. The look in her eyes. The innocence in her voice yet the confidence in her demands. With a little prodding, she told me exactly what she wanted, and I’ve never been so eager to please. What I liked best—she took control. The sheer power of not having to make a decision by letting her lead, was such a turn-on.

And I wanted to feel that way again.

Only when I reach my house, the guest room door is closed, and while I leave my bedroom door open, I’ll be sleeping alone, like I always do.

Dammit.

+ + +

The weekend following the Harvest Festival is Halle and Knox’s Halloween party. Essentially, it’s an open house where neighbors come and go. Halle felt terrible a year ago this summer when she hadn’t known Mavis and all that she’d been through. So, Halle wanted to make certain she knew everyone on her block and then some, including family and the new friends she’d made when she’d returned to Sterling Falls.

I still wasn’t certain I knew everything there was to know about Mavis yet, but I wasn’t giving up on her.

Mavis had to work earlier in the day, but she had plenty of time to prepare for the party. She wanted to bring a dish to share although Halle told her it wasn’t necessary. Mavis insisted but her movements were rushed, her aura edgy as she mixed ingredients in my kitchen. Fifteen minutes before leaving the house, her nerves were getting the better of her.

“Hey, Dutton, I need to see your mama in my room a second. Help with my costume.” I was a terrible liar, but Dutton seemed content on the couch watching a Halloween special involving his beloved Princess Power girls. And I needed a minute with Mavis.

From her position at the counter, she glances up at me, startled by the request. “I need to put the cheese on this function dip.”

The term is a fancy name for taco dip, I think.

“It can wait,” I suggest, holding out my hand which she eventually takes and allows me to lead her to my bedroom. Once inside, I close the door until there is just a sliver of a crack.

“What do you need?” I ask.

Her eyes widen, shoulders stiff. “I don’t know what you—”

Holding up my hand, I stop her. “I know what I need.” I run my gaze up and down her body in that damn formfitting, black body suit, outlining every curve and dip. Her hair is pinned up again in those two tight buns. She doesn’t have the butterfly shawl on yet, but I’ve had visions all week of her riding me again wearing nothing but that gauzy material.

“Clay,” she whispers, glancing toward the door.

“Ask me. Command me.” Maybe if I give her permission, she’ll take away this damn pressure between us. Between her job and mine, plus Dutton, it’s been a week of circling each other. I’m desperate to reclaim the connection we had on my desk a week ago.

Clasping my hand, she tugs me toward my bathroom, shuts the door behind us and locks it. Turning to face the mirror over the sink, she meets my eyes through the reflection.

“Get me off.” Her expression remains tight. “Don’t remove my costume.”

Her demand is like a starting gun. The stopwatch clicking as my heart races from zero to sixty in less than a minute. My dick is on board just as fast. Her sultry voice, her fierce command. She has no idea what it does for me. How it surprisingly calms me while the rest of my body is jacked up.

With her dressed like Catwoman, the material skintight over her body, touching her will be easy enough, and I take my time to coast my hands over the curve of her hips and the dip of her waist. Standing behind her, I cup her breasts and tug her back to my chest.

“Want me to get you off,” I repeat her demand, nuzzling into her neck. “Want to get wet on this suit. Feel the dampness all night. Know my fingers have touched you there.”

My hand rushes down her body and between her legs. Her hips jolt backward, crashing her ass into my cock, already stiff and standing erect with need.

“I’ve missed you, butterfly.” Can I say that to her? She’s in control but I still want her to know how much she’s made me crave her.

“Tell me what to do,” I whisper against her neck.

“Touch me. Make me come.” Her boldness is like an electric current straight to my dick and I nudge my hips forward, letting her feel what she does to me. She presses back, taunting with that ass, with every inch of her body outlined in this costume.

With my hand between her legs, I easily find her clit and rub hard in tight circles. She spreads her thighs and purrs. Arching her back, she leans forward, grinding her backside harder against me.

“Fuck, Mavis,” I hiss. “I want to be inside you again.”

“Yes.”

“I want to lick your pretty pussy.”