Southern Bombshell (North Carolina Highlands 5)

I’m thirty-five. I do not wake up like this. Then again, Reese and I haven’t had sex in a while.

My balls ache. I need to take care of this. Now.

Grabbing the bottle of lube on the bottom shelf of my nightstand, I squeeze a dollop onto my hand and sit on the edge of the bed. I don’t waste time.

I wrap my fingers around my root and, firming my grip, work myself in an upward stroke. It feels so good—I’m so sensitive—I see stars.

“Fuck,” I grunt, my eyes rolling to the back of my head.

I pump my fist, twirling my wrist so I get a little bit of a circular motion over my head, and my hips buck off the bed. I put my other hand on the mattress behind me, using it for leverage. Then I dig my toes into the rug and thrust into my hand. Slowly at first, then faster and faster, moaning, cursing as my balls tighten. My dick makes a sticky sound as it glides in and out, in and out, the skin glistening with lube and pre-cum.

I wish

I wish this

I wish this was her, I wish—

Digging my teeth into my bottom lip, I make an O with my index finger and thumb and hike it up just underneath my head. I look down to see pearlescent liquid dripping from the slit there. Need pounds through me. Need, and something else.

Something that makes my mind slip out from under me. I close my eyes and surrender, my dick throbbing in my hand.

I wish she were here. I wanna be fucked with. Fuck with me. Please, please be with me.

I firm my grip to the point of pain, flexing the muscles in my ass to deepen my strokes as my hips piston upward. Sensation coils in my root, threatening to spill over, to shoot up my length in a release I crave but also want to fend off.

When was the last time I was this turned on? I legitimately can’t remember.

My cock feels heavy in my hand. My thrusts become uneven, my breathing jagged, and the prickly, white-hot heat coiling between my legs becomes unbearable.

I’m in her mouth. She sucks my dick like she knows I need it, her tongue soft, her throat softer. Soft and hot. I tuck her hair behind her ear, cupping her chin, and she meets my eyes.

Sweet.

So. I thrust. Fucking. I squeeze. Sweet.

I come.

It takes me a long time to catch my breath. My heart hammers inside my chest. It must be well under sixty degrees in the room, but my forehead and temples are damp with sweat.

When I finally come back to earth, I land with a thud. Opening my eyes, I blink, terrified for a beat that I’m somewhere I shouldn’t be.

I let out a sigh of relief when I discover I’m still in my bed in my house.

Phew.

But that begs the question, where the fuck did I think I was? And the girl sucking my dick—

“Reese,” I say aloud, breathing hard. “It was Reese.”

It was. I don’t exactly remember her face, but I do remember how safe I felt with her. How cared for.

I mean, it had to be Reese. Who else?

Ignoring the way my hands shake, I clean up in the bathroom. I splash my face with cold water, then settle my hands on the lip of the sink and glance in the mirror. I don’t know what I’m looking for as I search my expression, but I must find it because an unpleasant sensation catches inside my gut and my head.

Coffee.

I slept late, and now I’m getting a caffeine withdrawal headache. That’s what this must be.

Heading back into my room, I grab my phone from my nightstand and call Reese. I curse when it goes to voicemail, and then I drop the phone from my ear and shoot her a text.

Missed you this morning. Wanna meet at that coffee shop by your place? The Gaping Goat I think is the name?

I tug a hand through my hair as I wait for her reply. Glancing at my bed, I curse again because I got cum all over the sheets. Seriously, what is going on with me today?

I gotta get out of here.

I nearly jump out of my skin when my phone chimes. It’s Reese.

Sorry I bailed! Ended up going home because I needed a solid night’s sleep after all this travel. Heading to spin class now. Can meet for lunch tho?

“Lucy!” I call. “We’re going to town.”

I’d planned to head downtown anyway today. Might as well kill two birds with one stone and check out my favorite bookstore, which just so happens to have a great little coffee place beside it. I can easily hook up with Reese whenever she’s done.

Malaprop’s storefront occupies pride of place on a busy side street in downtown Asheville. Its red awning flaps in the brisk breeze, and I suck in a lungful of cold mountain air as I hop out of my truck and head for the sidewalk. I already feel better. More centered. Lucy trots beside me on her leash, a big old smile on her face—yes, dogs do smile—at being included in this morning’s impromptu excursion.