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First published by the Good Vibrations Magazine: http://magazine.goodvibes.com
This is an excerpt from “Second Bite of the Cherry”, an erotic novel in progress.
It is the evening of Lizzie’s birthday, and Ravi, her ex, has surprised her by turning up after closing time at the lingerie store where she works.
Lizzie walked from the changing rooms into the dimly lit store only to find Ravi wearing one of the new, velvet blindfolds and fingering the nighties on a nearby stand. In spite of the fact the corset she was wearing was tight, she managed to give an explosive laugh. “Ravi Patel! I thought you dared me to model the kinky gear.
He turned towards her with a sheepish grin, raising the blindfold. “I’m testing the theory that blind people have heightened senses.” As Lizzie explained that even if this was true, donning a blindfold missed the point, he ran his gaze down her body, greeting her get-up with a wide-eyed admiration. “Oh honey,” he sighed, stepping towards her, “you’re gorgeous.”
“I should hope so.” She fingered the price tag. “We charge enough. On my salary, I’ll never afford it.” Turning sideways and sticking out her hip, she raised her hand dramatically like a fainting woman who needs shielding from the sun. “Darling, this is ‘Hourglass Lingerie’. Everyone looks like a filmstar.”
Ravi laughed, slowing circling her, laying a hand in the small of her back. She tingled at his touch, especially when he kept sliding his palm along the boned silk. He played with the tendrils of hair that had tumbled from their clips, his touch brushing her nape. For a moment, he stood so close she felt his breath on her cheek and smelt the bitter chocolate they’d shared. He touched her shoulder with a fingertip. “Strapless.”
“You like strapless.”
“I like strapless on you.”
Thrown by her longing for him, she turned towards the mirror. The basque was one she’d been wanting to try for ages – strapless, white silk with black panels down the back and front, and covered buttons that gave it a Cabaret look. The corset was available in Lizzie’s larger size because she’d nagged her boss, Georgia, for months: “We’re called ‘Hourglass’, for heaven’s sake – we’re meant to be all about curves. Are you comfortable employing someone who can’t wear most of your stock?” Finally her boss had given a throaty laugh and said,
“All right, you’re promoted. Sort it out.”
And with hot determination, Lizzie had done just that.
Ravi was right in front of her now – she could feel the heat coming off his body – or was she the one that was burning? He placed both hands on her hips and slid them down her curves, telling her she was the only woman he’d ever truly wanted. She felt drugged, bound, unable to pull away, covered in the scent of him – like hot sun on pine. When he opened his mouth on hers, he pressed a hand to the back of her head, pulling her towards him until she returned the kiss. He pushed her towards the rail of nighties, and she gave way to his pressure instinctively. Back when they were dating, Lizzie and Ravi had played so much ‘Truth and Dare’ that it had become second nature – and when he’d turned up tonight and she’d thrown her arms around him, she’d known, instinctively, that he’d dare her into a corset. Well so what? This was her birthday, dammit, plus she’d missed Ravi like hell. Sure, he’d left her because he was scared of commitment, but maybe he’d changed.
Her back met the rail and the nighties danced against her, hangers clinking – lace, satin and gauzy net stroked against her skin, as she kissed Ravi more fiercely. He slid his hands over her breasts, catching his breath, saying, “They’re perfect,” and when he raised her leg pressing his sex against hers, his hardness made her quiver. She pushed him off her, ripped his shirt open, and laughed when one of the buttons flew right off and pinged against the counter; but Ravi wasn’t smiling – his gaze seared onto hers. Leaning in, he began sliding the clips from her hair, and she let him, aroused by his preening.
Running a hand over his chest, she said, “I missed this.”
He kissed her forehead. “Shake out your hair.”
When she did, she felt her curls tumbling round her shoulders, and in a moment, he was forcing her backwards again, playbiting the curve of her ear.
“Always you,” he whispered. He gripped her breast harder so her nipples stiffened, and her briefs felt slick against her slit where the slipperier she grew, the more sweetly they rubbed; and as Ravi gripped her round the waist, grasping the boned corset, she gasped, “Do it.” He steadily backed away, his stare growing dark on hers. God, she’d needed this for months – ever since they’d last screwed.
He pulled open his jeans, a button at a time, each making a tiny phut noise as he eased it free. “Oh Rav,” gasped Lizzie, her sex aching sweetly, as his fingers plucked. She stared down at the gap he was opening towards her, and the sight of the mound within his lycra boxers was so sexy she had to hold the rail to steady herself. She was thirsty for this – her favourite game: Ravi the predator, moving towards her, opening his jeans to show her what he had.
“Nobody does it better,” she breathed, luxuriating against the bar. How she burned to see him reach into his boxers! “Use it on me. Please.”
He moved in close, dipped his hand into her briefs, and massaged her so perfectly that she writhed and groaned; but once she was on the shuddering brink, gasping for him to screw her, he stepped away again and reached into his boxers, producing the long, hard sex that had always driven her mad. “You want this?” he asked, wielding it before her.
“Sure you can cope with it?”
“Every damn inch.” She ran the side of her shoe down his leg, and with that, he pushed her back, swept aside the silk of her briefs, and in one perfect movement, forced himself into her, filling her completely with a single lunge. Lizzie cried out, her tremours shaking the rail. She kept begging him to fuck her?and holy shit, he did! Lace nighties tumbled round them with every jolt, their hangers rattling, and she grasped him inside her like she’d never let him go. He bit her neck, twined his fingers through hers and slid his free hand into the cup of her corset, staring down as he rubbed her pale breast.
“You make everything beautiful,” he told her. “Even when it’s lewd.”
Mind swirling, Lizzie ran her hands down his chest, feeling the slender muscles she’d once known so well. The lace nighties stroked her cheek as she arched backwards. “Rav, go harder!” With his so-firm sex, he gave a crescendo of thrusts, before lifting her breast from its satin cup and groaning uncontrollably. Nighties fell to the floor, hangers clattered, the rail gave a heave as if about to snap – and his final string of lunges burned so fiercely that she gave way to a beautiful nothingness, the high searing through her, spinning her mind.
When she came to, he was smiling, still inside her, wiping the edge of her mouth. “You drooled, baby.”
She laughed. “And who’s to blame?”
He lowered his mouth to hers, kissing her gently, and whispering that she was the only one, and had never been so ready to commit. “I was crazy to have left you,” he said, pulling her gently towards him, his sex sliding out of her, light as a caress. “Can you forgive me?”
“Well, buster, now’s a good time to ask.”
With a smile, he laid a line of kisses across her top lip, before pressing his cheek to hers and staying there a while. Her hand found his, their fingers interweaving as he whispered, “Be mine again. Please.”