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Jacqui started kissing my neck. She didn’t say it, but I think she knew that I was on the phone with my girlfriend. It was as if she was testing me to see who I wanted. I knew who I wanted. It was time to make a change.
“Gotta go,” I said.
Jacqui looked at me and smiled a wicked little grin. “Who was that, your girl?”
“No. Where are you taking me tomorrow?”
“I told you, the mall. I saw this orange dress that would look sharp as hell on you.”
There wasn’t anything in my closet that came close to orange. This was going to be quite a change. I kissed Jacqui on the lips. ?
?Sounds good to me!”
Jolie du Pré is an African-American author of erotica and erotic romance. Her work has appeared on the Internet, in eBook and in Best Lesbian Erotica 2007 and other print anthologies. Jolie is the editor of Iridescence: Sensuous Shades of Lesbian Erotica, published by Alyson Books. She is also the founder of GLBT Promo, a promotional group for gay, lesbian, bisexual and transgender erotica and erotic romance. Visit her website at www.joliedupre.com.
At Last
Kimberly Kaye Terry
S erena gratefully lowered her aching body into the bar stool and closed her eyes, blowing a tired breath of air from her partially opened lips. With a sigh, she raised two fingers to her temple, massaging away the nagging headache that had been hovering for the last hour. Her back and feet ached from standing all day at the convention, talking to various company execs, trying her damndest to keep the smile and the charm flowing as she attended the marketing convention the pharmaceutical company she worked for had sent her on.
She glanced around the deserted bar before she eased her feet out of her pumps.
As soon as she’d been able to escape the convention, she’d driven the small rental back to her hotel, one she’d chosen that was far away from the convention site, having no desire to mingle with the conventioneers, to snatch off the itchy pantyhose, conservative navy blue suit and matching pumps. After undressing, she’d taken a long, leisurely shower, allowing the hot water to sluice over her skin and ease the hard knot of tension away from her aching muscles.
The tension she felt came from both the hassle of networking at the conference, as well as from the doubts she’d been having of late, with increasing frequency, about her relationship with Reggie. Doubts she’d tried to express to her mother which had, in turn, caused an ugly fight between them. Her mother, as usual, reminded Serena that Reggie was a man any woman would beg, borrow, and steal to land.
He had everything a woman could ask for in a man. Her mother had scolded her, as though she were a child; her lips pinched, her brow furrowed in anger.
As her mother ran down his dossier, Serena had turned away, tuning her out, and refrained from telling her to mind her own business for once and allow her to live her life, to choose her own mate, without her mother constantly trying to arrange her life.
Yes, Reggie had it all. No doubt about it. Fine as hell, intelligent, U.S. Naval Captain with a bright future ahead of him, chiseled, sculpted body—and a dick the size of Mt. Everest.
And the man knew how to wield that beautiful thick cock like the soldier he was, Serena thought, remembering their previous night’s marathon sex session before she left for her convention.
Yes, the man definitely knew what to do to get a woman wet, willing, and ready. But for all of that, there was an ache, an unfulfilled need in her that Reggie hadn’t been able to fulfill. One that no man ever had.
No. It wasn’t Reggie. Damn. If only it were that easy, Serena thought glumly.
It was her. All her. She’d shrugged off the disturbing thoughts and had raised her face to the stinging water raining down on her from the shower head.
Once the water began to cool, with reluctance, she’d turned the shower off and stepped out of the tub, wrapping her body in one of the thick, monogrammed hotel towels. Padding over to the small mirror mounted above the sink, she’d allowed the towel to slip from her body and stood naked in front of the mirror, examining herself.
She’d stared at her reflection, scrunching her nose at the image that stared back. She ran her fingers over her face, run along the tired lines that softly bracketed her wide mouth and noticed that—despite her deep chocolate-brown complexion—dark shadows underscored her eyes.
She needed to make some decisions about her life, and the longer she waited, the harder it would be.
Slowly her hands dropped away from her face and she lowered them to her breasts. Her breath quickened as she lightly cupped the small mounds, running her thumb over her nipples. She gazed at her breasts in the mirror, watching the twin, plumb-colored nipples tighten as she manipulated them.
She eased one hand away from one of her breasts, sliding over her moist skin, down to the V of her legs, her fingers delving between her moist folds. As she rubbed her clit, she continued to stare at her reflection, her lids dropping low, her tongue coming out to moisten her lower rim. Her skin grew uncomfortably tight, her breathing increased as she worked her clit, dipping two fingers inside and pumping them in and out until she felt the unmistakable sensation of an orgasm swamp her body.
With a small gasp, Serena came, her body jerking as she released, removing her hand from her pussy and planting both on the edge of the counter, gripping the basin tightly as her self-induced pleasure washed over her. Once her body relaxed, her breathing back to normal, she’d turned on the faucet and washed her trembling hands.
Blowing out a breath of air, she’d unclipped her hair, allowing the freed strands to tumble to her shoulders. She picked up the brush lying on the ceramic counter, and ran it haphazardly through her hair before securing it with a coated band.
She quickly left the bathroom and slipped into a short black skirt and silk blouse, and with key and purse in hand, headed to the bar downstairs in the hotel lobby. She needed a drink. Badly.
“Miss…can I get you something for that?”
