Her pulse raced at the thought, and knew she had to do it. Reaching for the clasp at her neck, she released her hair and let it flow down her shoulders and across her breasts. Then she slowly undid the button and pulled her dress down, sliding the silk against her already swollen nipples.
She gasped at the sensation of the soft fabric massaging her skin, and glanced again at the mirror. Her hair covered her breasts and she looked like a modern Lady Godiva. She swept her hair behind her back and examined her breasts.
They were swollen, as were her nipples. Her breasts might be small, but she had nice nipples. Little pink areolas and large rounded nipples that were extremely sensitive to touch.
Most especially sensitive to Aidan's touch. Her nipples tingled as she recalled his hands, much larger than hers, sweeping over her breasts, enticing the buds to stand up and beg for his mouth.
Oh, she wanted his mouth on her aching breasts so much right now.
But, Aidan wasn't there. So she'd have to imagine him there, wish for him there, want him there. At least in her mind. She closed her eyes and conjured up a vision of him, standing with her in the bathroom.
What she wouldn't give to make that vision a reality.
A sudden shock of electric desire coursed through her body. Nearly painful in its intense pleasure, it rocked her until she had to brace herself to keep from wobbling.
Wow. What was that? Was she so turned on at the mere thought of Aidan that just picturing him and wishing for him could set her senses on fire?
The room heated suddenly, as if all the air had been sucked out through the vents. A fine sheen of perspiration settled between Melissa's breasts as the humidity in the room rose.
She was hot. Burning up inside and out, but she couldn't, wouldn't stop. Sliding her hands over her stomach, she pushed the dress down her hips, letting it puddle on the floor. Then she turned to the full-length mirror and surveyed her body.
A patch of fine, blonde hair covered her mound. She shaved everywhere else, preferring smooth pussy lips despite the fact that they were rarely seen, touched or kissed by a man. But Aidan had touched her there.
And now, she would as well. Only her touch would be his. She spread her legs and looked in the mirror as she moved her hands toward her sex, teasing herself just a little, knowing what was going to happen but wanting to delay the pleasure for a few more seconds.
The room was covered in a fine mist. Humid droplets rained down on her hair and face, covering her breasts and lower. She could barely breathe from the blanket of heat surrounding the room.
But still she didn't stop.
Tentatively, she eased her fingers between the folds of her labia, jumping when they slid over her clit. She paused there, circling the erect nub with her thumb a few times, then threw her head back and moaned with the wicked delight of sensations spiraling through her.
Her pussy was damp, like the rest of her, her juices flowing over her fingers as she slid a couple between the soft folds and stroked.
"Why aren't you here, Aidan?" she whispered to the empty room. "I need you to touch me."
No one answered, but the mist enveloped her, briefly cooling her heated skin. It seemed to soak deep inside her, becoming a part of her.
She gasped when another shock of pleasure raced through her, and quickened the pace of her fingers along the folds of her pussy. Every time she brushed her clit she sucked in her bottom lip and whimpered, wanting desperately for Aidan's lips to cover the swollen nub and suck it deep inside.
"Oh dear God," she moaned when a wet warmth surrounded her clit, almost as if in answer to her silent pleas.
With relentless pursuit of a climax she continued on, her movements increasing in time to the pressure against her sensitive bud. Pressure she wasn't putting there, but remained nonetheless. She'd given up trying to figure out where the incredible sensations came from, only that it was as intense as anything she'd ever felt.
Unable to stand upright any longer, she leaned over the bathroom counter and braced her hands on the cool, misty marble.
Then she spied the wooden hairbrush near the sink, peering at her reflection through the wet fog.
Yes, she needed something inside her pussy, something to pound away at the ache that wouldn't go away, something hard to take her over the edge before she dropped to the floor in sexual agony.
She smiled at the wicked woman in the mirror and reached for the brush, its smooth, thick handle a cool relief as she grasped the bristled end in her palm and brought the brush behind her.
Bending over at the waist, she slipped the brush over her buttocks and further down, knowing as soon as she'd found the mark she sought. The brush slid easily between the wet folds of her pussy, and without another thought she slipped it inside.
Oh, it was heaven. Heaven and hell and sweet, blissful torture. She pulled it out, just a little, stroked her clit and lips, then slid it back in a little further this time.
"Yes, like that," she whimpered, not sure to whom she was speaking, but wishing that she could look in the mirror and find Aidan's handsome face smiling behind her, his hands holding her hips steady as he rocked his hard shaft deep inside.
The brush was his cock sliding inside her. Long and thick filling her until she could take no more. She imagined Aidan's grip intensifying on her hips as she pulled back the brush and thrust again. Her body sucked the handle deeper inside, refusing to let it go.
"Fuck me, Aidan," she whispered. "Fuck me hard."
The huge object plunged deep inside, eliciting a scream of pleasure from her. She pushed back against the imaginary Aidan, rewarded when she imagined hearing a male grunt of pleasure.
"Yes, oh yes, harder, "she cried. " Make me come, Aidan."
The hands on her buttocks squeezed hard, ramming the long, thick member so deep inside she felt it in her belly. She gave what she got, bucking back against him as the first waves of her climax washed over her.
The mist began to fall like a soft rain, soaking her skin, her hair, the entire room as jolt after jolt of pleasure arced through her. Her pussy flooded with the juices of her orgasm and the hard object inside strained. The Aidan she imagined in her fantasies groaned loudly and shot a hot stream of come deep into her core.
She panted, nearly breathless, and held on to the countertop until the world stopped spinning. When she finally opened her eyes and peered in the mirror, she was completely dry. Her skin, other than a fine veil of sweat, had no more been rained on than the dry French Quarter outside. There was no storm, no thunder, no lightning, no rain--inside or outside.
The hairbrush, soaked with her juices, lay on the floor next to her feet.
She was completely alone in the room, having had an incredibly real fantasy that had caught her up in a maelstrom of earth shattering delight until she couldn't tell fantasy from reality.
With a sigh she turned on the shower. While she waited for the water to heat up, she heard the sound of distant t
hunder.
Maybe a storm was coming after all.
Chapter Seven
Bound and determined to change things between her and Aidan, Melissa charged into the hotel's conference room. She was tired of being alone, tired of masturbating herself to orgasm, and was more than ready for some rip-roaring sex of the Aidan Storm variety.
Yes, she'd screwed up with Aidan. She should have taken the hot sex he offered instead of worrying about where it would lead.
It wasn't going to lead anywhere. They both knew that, and it was time she stopped trying to make a relationship out of a little casual fling. He wanted the sex, she sure as hell needed it, and she was going to get it.
She'd even dressed a little differently today. A suit as usual, but this time she'd chosen one with a little more color. The green matched her eyes, and the skirt was a tad on the short side. Which was just fine. The more skin she revealed, the better. Instead of her usual short-sleeved silk blouse, she'd slipped on a white silk camisole that hugged her breasts.
Today might be a working day, but that was no reason to miss an opportunity for a little seduction. By the end of the day she'd have Aidan ready and willing to fuck her until she screamed.
She set her briefcase on the table and looked around, disappointed that he wasn't there waiting for her. The smell of strong coffee sailed under her nostrils and she strolled to the bar and poured a cup. She turned quickly and smiled as the door opened.
Only it wasn't Aidan, it was Shannon.
"Morning," she waved and grinned. "I thought I smelled coffee in here and the pot by my office is empty. I started a brew but I was too lazy and too desperate for caffeine to wait. And why am I explaining all this in such boring detail, anyway?"
Melissa laughed. "I know the feeling. I have a tendency to over-explain myself on a regular basis."
"Mind if I sit?" Shannon asked, pointing to one of the empty chairs.
"Not at all."
Shannon slipped in to a chair. She looked so cool and professional, no matter what time of the day or night Melissa saw her. Today she was dressed in a pale blue dress. Simple, yet very crisp. Her hair, thick and soft like fine sable, lay straight against her shoulders.
"How goes the marketing plan?" Shannon asked.
"Slow," Melissa admitted. "We have so much leg work to do first to make sure we have all our ducks in a row, that we haven't really settled on the official strategy yet."