L. Marie Adeline- S.E.C.R.E.T

“Oh, Cassie,” he pleaded, my hair entwined in one of his hands, the other keeping his
balance on the stool above me. “Mother of God,” he whispered, as I felt myself pulling
the orgasm right out of him. He drew a sharp breath and stiened. Then he went
beautifully silent. After a few moments I felt him receding, and eventually sliding out of
my mouth. I kissed that lovely place where his torso met his thighs. Then I grabbed my
T-shirt from the oor and gently wiped my mouth. A feeling of triumph surged through
me, and I smiled up at him.
“Man alive, girl,” he gasped, stepping back from me. “You didn’t need any
instructions. That was … amazing.”
“Really?” I said, stepping up to him. We were chest to chest, and I could feel the
muscles of his chest against me.
“Really,” he said, touching his forehead to mine. “A. Maze. Ing.”
He had an astonished look on his face, and he was still breathing heavily. I was totally
naked and standing on my clothes. I looked down.
“Pretty fucking adorable. There’s a washroom behind the pantry there,” he said,
pointing.
I gathered my soccer mom uniform from the floor and began to walk away.
“Wait.”
I turned, and he stepped towards me and planted a long, rm kiss on my mouth. “That
was exactly what I needed,” he said.
In the washroom I shut the door behind me. Even this small room o the pantry was
lush and ornate, with gold taps and gold-velvet embossed wallpaper with burgundy
paisley. The sink’s pedestal was a woman’s arms owering out into hands that became
the basin. I splashed cold water on my face and around the back of my neck. I took a
mouthful of water and swallowed. Water dripped down my chest and into my cleavage.
I traced it with my ngers. I had given someone pleasure, been generous, for the sake of
doing it—and for no other reason.
I had begun to dress, when I heard a gentle knock on the door.
“It’s me, open up.”
Maybe unlike the masseur, Shawn wanted to say goodbye. I opened the door a crack.
He eased his body into the washroom, and I felt my pulse speed up. He turned me
around so that I was facing the mirror and he was behind me. Then he buried his head in
the crook of my neck as he had done in the kitchen.
“This is for you,” he said.
He had put his jeans back on, but I could feel him hard again behind me. And as I
reached my arms up and around the back of his neck, I felt his pelvis press against me,
the cool ceramic rim of the vanity on my thighs. I was wet in an instant. He bit into my
neck gently and then slipped one arm forward and between my thighs. My back arched
into his hand. I bent forward, closer to the mirror, and watched his reection, his eyes
closed, his hands moving down across my breasts, my stomach, his ngers fanning out.
Even this had a rhythm for him, like he was nding a strain of music in my body. He
was playing me, pulling me closer and closer, his ngers pulsing intensely inside me. To
feel wanted, to be taken and touched like this, it was like coming to life from the inside