Page 19 of Miguel
Chapter Nine
Lorena
Ineverthoughttheterm “kissed stupid” was a real thing until it happened to me. Ever since Miguel pressed his lips against mine, his tongue stroking, demanding, dominating, like nothing I’d ever felt before, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. There was never a moment that it didn’t cross my mind. Where the feelings he’d evoked crawled over my skin, where his image appeared behind my eyes when I closed them.
I tried to focus on tasks at home but failed every time. Too engrossed in what it felt like to have his plump, warm lips against mine, I missed Desiree signing at me several times. She’d given me a pointed look, but when she asked what was wrong I didn’t tell her who I was thinking of.
Maybe I just wanted to keep that bit to myself. Maybe I just didn’t even understand it; why a kiss could touch me so deeply. Not just my body and between my legs, but deeper. Like he’d gone down to the recesses of my soul, my very being, and stroked a fire that had long since been dormant. If I’d even ever felt it at all.
I vowed I wouldn’t fall prey to it. To that charming smile and seductive timbre. I didn’t know him and he didn’t know me. He likely didn’t want anything beyond sex, as his promise had been very clear. I wouldn’t risk heartache with someone like him. And I knew heartache would come if I ever got involved.
I’d been to the compound; I’d seen the scantily clad women walking around. I knew what they were there for, and that sometimes men just gave into that. It wouldn’t do either of us any good to start something only to get hurt in the end.
But at least at home I could pretend. So that’s what I did.
When night blanketed over the sky, shrouding over the three mountains that framed our state in velvety blackness, I slid beneath my sheets. My skin was feverish to the touch, had been aching, demanding, wanting something I could never have.
With the lights in my bedroom off, a thick, purple dick in hand, I touched myself. With my fingers first. A light caress between the seam of my pussy, fingers sliding against the wetness that had already accumulated there. I circled it, sliding the dampness up to my clit with a groan. A zing of pleasure zapped through my spine as I began slow, torturous movements against my most sensitive area.
I didn’t need to ready myself. To play with my skin the way I liked to do.
For me, masturbation was a journey. It was a form of self-care. It was fun. For me it was more about the pathway rather than the reward, and yet this time, I couldn’t bring myself to wait. Not with how heavy my breasts had been feeling for hours, the puckered ache in my nipples. The heaviness between my thighs was desperate for touch.
I slid my wet fingers up my body, reaching for a nipple and pinching it to a painful peak until my hips shot up, gyrating against nothing at all.
I was so, so ready.
Holding the purple, ridged dick firmly in my hand, I slid it down to my opening. I teased myself with the blunted tip, twirling it against my seam just like I had with my fingers just before I lifted my hips and jerked my hand, shoving the faux cock deep inside myself. I groaned, crying out with abandon as it split me wide.
I wondered if Miguel would feel like this.
If he’d feel better.
Warmer.
What would he do to me if he had the chance to have me beneath him? What would I want him to do?
I could picture him so vividly now. His lips warm against mine, licking, nipping, sucking. I’d want him to bite. I’d want him to be rough.
He looked like he could be rough. Like he’d fuck me until I was aching in more ways than one. He’d smile unapologetically at me, wrap his fingers around my throat.
I’d let him choke me until I saw stars while his dick slid in and out of my channel.
I jerked my fist in a fast movement, angling my hips up as if he were above me, ramming into me. I went fast and hard, the ridges of the cock touching me in a way I knew a human man couldn’t. My palm slapped down against my pussy while the dick moved in and out of me. The sting against my clit nearly sent me spiraling.
I imagined it was Miguel’s hand. I imagined it was his dark eyes staring down at me, looking at my plump, ripe body that was wanting and ready.
“Eres mia,”he’d whisper. No, he’dgrowl. And that voice would rumble all the way down to my clit and set me off.
“Miguel!” I cried out, shoving the cock in and out while pleasure zoomed through my entire body. My orgasm crashed over me with so very little effort, and I trembled, jerking onto the piece of plastic, pulling my own hand away while electric shocks rumbled through my body. I jolted, my body suspended through a void of pleasure until the spasms stopped.
With a sigh, I sank back down into my mattress, slowly pulling the cock from my center and dropping it on the bed beside me.
A fantasy version of Miguel was just that. And it was all I could ever indulge in.
And I had a feeling I’d be indulging in him quite often. Maybe it wouldn’t compare to the real thing, but that was something I’d never know.
Something I didn’t think I’d ever find out.
