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“I don’t know. Tell me, Gwyneth, what are the sexual urges you need the not-some-normal bike kid for?”
“K-kissing, for starters.”
“Kissing.”
“Yeah, with tongue and groping.”
“And?”
I can feel the fire spreading all over my neck and ears, but I don’t stop. I can’t. “Then he’d finger me.”
“How?”
“Huh?”
“How would he do it? Would his fingers be deep inside you, making you all full?”
Holy shit. I am now. All full, I mean, and it only took his words. They’re not really words anymore. They’ve gained a dimension and are now living inside me, touching me, making me all stuffed with him.
“Yeah…and they feel so good, too.”
“They do, huh?”
Everything in me clenches—my chest, my stomach, and my pussy. It’s clenching so hard, as if I’m trying to keep his fingers there.
“How good?” The rigidness in his voice and posture doesn’t go away. He sounds like he’s on the verge of something. What, I have no clue.
“Very.”
“Describe it.”
“I…can’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because I can only feel it. And that only happens in the moment.” This moment, apparently, because I’m so hot and bothered, I’d only need to touch myself for a few seconds to get my much-needed relief.
“Show me then.”
My head whips up so fast, it hits the wall. But I don’t feel the pain, because his words are still swirling around my head.
“What did you just say?”
I don’t get to see his face or focus on his reaction, because my feet give out and the world turns upside down. No, it’s not my feet or the world. It’s him as he picks me up and throws me over his shoulder.
“You’ll show me all those sexual urges. Now.”
16
Gwyneth
Gravity seems to have left the building.
Or maybe it’s my sanity.
Maybe it’s both.
Because I don’t feel either of them—neither gravity nor my sanity. I’m floating on air and unable to land.
