Page 38 of Afternoon Delight
“Nope. Shut up. I’m leaving.” He plucked his toy from my weak grasp. “I hope you’re happy because you have ruined sex for me forever.”
The door jangled, and he was gone.
I burst out laughing.
Chapter 20
Meg
I was still snickering over Zak’s reaction as I unwrapped the toy and gave it a wash on my way to bed. Mom was already asleep. Roddie was in the basement, gaming online with a friend, noise-canceling headphones on. He occasionally shouted out a curse, but was very much in his own world.
I locked my door and climbed into bed, thinking only of Zak. His sister was striking, sure, but sibling sex was a taboo too far. Besides, I’d never truly been into women. I could admire curves and great hair, but any flicker of desire was always dimmed by envy. Four months from turning forty, I was still grappling with my love-hate relationship with this body I’d been given. It was time I learned to celebrate it.
Would Zak celebrate it? Men his age tended to be drawn to bouncy twenty-five-year-olds, not breasts that flattened when I was on my back or a stomach that possessed the tension of a deflated balloon.
I should get a wax, I mused while applying lube to my inner labia. I'd let the bush grow through the divorce, more out of laziness than defiance. I shouldn’t cave to impossible beauty standards—but if Zak ever went down on me, I’d want a clean slate.
I clicked the toy on low. It nestled neatly in my palm, the small ring pulsing gently. I traced it around my nipples, imagining it was Zak’s fingers teasing them erect. His mouth sucking them, sending heat curling into my belly.
My other hand moved between my legs, spreading lube, feeling how much warmer and wetter I was getting as I played with my clit.
Would he push my legs apart and lick me here? I guided the toy into place. There was a sharp, pleasurable jolt as I fitted the ring over my clit. Ripples of need surged through my pelvis. My pussy clenched on nothing, feeling achingly empty. I wished I’d kept a dildo within reach.
Oh, fuck. I was about to come.
I rolled onto my side and pinned the toy between my thighs, muffling my groan in the pillow as a hard orgasm rocked my pelvis.
Holy hell. I had to pull the toy away—it was too much. I let it buzz along my inner thigh, then over my outer lips. It kept me turned on. I imagined Zak eating me from behind as I lay like this, rubbing the toy in the tight space between my thighs, amping up the friction between my lips.
Fresh arousal twisted through my abdomen. I bit my lip and brought the toy back to my clit. I reached back to play with my wet hole as I imagined his tongue there. His fingers.
Oh, fuuuck. I came again, eyes clenched, hips thrusting into the toy that I held pinned to my clit.
I could hardly catch my breath, but I still wanted more. I rolled onto my stomach, one knee raised. I humped that toy with my sopping pussy, reawakening the nerve endings until I was ready for the bite and tickle on my clit again.
I imagined Zak doing filthy things to me. Joel and I had tried anal a couple of times. I hadn’t liked it, but I fantasized that Zak was playing with my asshole. Fingering it. Licking it. That’s why my pussy was so neglected. He was holding my shoulder and shoving his cock up my ass. Fucking me hard.
Oh, fuck. I nearly screamed—I came so hard.
As I lay there panting in the aftermath, trying to find the energy to turn off the toy, I wondered how I would face Zak after what he had just done to me.
Chapter 21
Meg
Mom had unearthed a few choice pieces from the thrift shop, so she was busy arranging them while I was unpacking shipments in the storage room—receiving packages, as Zak would put it.
I was still tender from last night’s friction burns and kind of dying to tell him. When I heard the door at the front of the shop, I half-expected it was him, but it was a woman’s voice.
“Oh.” The voice had a tense, stridently cheerful tone. “Hello, Vickie.”
“Barbara.” Mom sounded equally nonplussed. “How did you know I was here?”
“I didn’t.”
I came into the shop to see one of Mom’s friends from the thrift store. They’d all come by the house at different times when Dad had been ill, and I’d seen them all again later, at his service.
“Hi, Barbara,” I greeted.
