Suck on your clit, make you cum all over my face.
As soon as you cum, turn you over and spread your ass cheeks, take you from behind. But you have to cum again.
Reach around and pinch your clit while I fuck you from behind. So deep, so deep you have to cum again before I do.
You can cum first, I tell her. You cum every time I tell you to, until you can’t cum anymore.
Because you’re mine.
You’re all mine.
Chapter 1
Dahlia
As I'm changing out of my work clothes, I hear someone knocking on the front door. I kick off my patent leather pumps and wiggle quickly out of my pencil skirt, practically ripping off buttons as I try to take off my pink silk blouse. In just a few seconds I'm back in snug jeans and a white tank top, pulling my dark blonde hair back into a bun on top of my head.
The doorbell goes off, then twice more.
“I'm coming! I’m coming!” I holler as I rush down the front hallway, but then stop. I can see the top of Bunny's head in the diamond-shaped glass as she pushes up on her toes and tries to peek inside. I don't need to rush, not for Bunny.
I stand behind the closed door, glaring at it for a few more seconds until she rings the bell yet again. Then I open it so fast she practically falls inside.
“What are you doing, laying on my doorbell like that? Are you insane?”
She stumbles for a few seconds and then stands up, shrugging and rolling her eyes. “What. You told me that I’m not supposed to just come in anymore, right? I’m being polite.”
Still, she just walks inside and strolls off down the hall, ducking into the kitchen without waiting for me to ask. It's true, we've been friends since kindergarten, but she doesn't actually live here. I think that information would come as a bit of surprise to her. She seems to think our houses are interchangeable.
“Don't eat my potato chips!” I yell out as I hear the plastic bag crinkling. By the time I make it to the kitchen, she's already got the bag open and one dusty red chip poised in front of her open mouth.
“What did you say?”
“I said, don't eat my potato chips!” I insist, snatching the bag away from her and rolling down the open top.
The bag is torn on one side, a jagged bolt of lightning splitting the plastic dangerously close to the top level of potato chips. She knows I hate that. I've been known to open the bags with scissors, even. I hate it when the bag tears down the side.
“Oh my frigging God, Bunny. You’re a savage, I swear.”
She pops the chip into her mouth and chews loudly for a moment. Then she pouts, sticking her lower lip out as she watches me hiding the chips in a cupboard. She bats those big brown eyes at me and I pretend not to notice.
“But I'm starving, Dahlia,” she whispers. “You invited me over for dinner, remember?”
“I invited you over so you could you could help me make dinner,” I sniff. “I just got home. I haven't even had time to shop or do anything.”
“Oh, I'm supposed to do chores? You're a terrible date, Dahlia.”
I open the refrigerator and stick my head into it so I don't have to look at her. I know she's playing around with me and expects me to laugh, but I just got home from work. I'm tired. I'm cranky. I'm not in the mood for her sass right now.
I remember when I was a kid, my mom would complain about coming home from work and being tired, and I just did not get it. After all, her job was office manager for a real estate company. It was pretty much the coolest thing in the wo
rld, I thought. They had air conditioning and multi-line phones and a whole closet full of office supplies. Heaven! I just loved it. I couldn't imagine what she found so exhausting.
Now I get it, but of course, it's too late to tell her. She passed away three years ago already, before I even graduated high school.
“Okay,” I remark into the open fridge. “I've got chicken, a couple of steaks, some kind of leftover rice thing… any of that sound good to you?” I call out, scanning the shelves for some sign of inspiration.
“I'm a vegetarian now,” she announces.