Their marriage has been dead for weeks, months—oh, who the hell is she kidding? It’s been dead for years.

They’re still friends, but they stopped being lovers a long time ago. She has tried the sexy teddies, the dirty talk, but nothing seems to animate him. His response is…well, it’s less than impassioned.

I’m okay with it, is her standard response when her girlfriends ask. She has said it so many times that she is almost convinced.


When she’s honest, she admits she wants a hand to caress her body, a breathy voice to tell her she’s wanted. Needed. She can’t remember the last time she felt needed.

To satisfy the urges, to relieve some of the tension that builds between her thighs, she scans through Tumblr, selecting gifs that reflect her fantasies. She perverts each stream into an image of him with her, can all but feel him push apart her thighs.

Not the one she has, you understand, but the one she wants. The one who wants her.

He would moan, she imagines, as his open mouth presses against her labia, his full lips sucking on her clit.

“Is this what you want, sweetheart?”

“Yes.” One syllable is all she can manage as her fingers clench his hair, tangle in dense curls.

She can hardly keep a thought in her head as his fingers push into her, stroke in and out, tapping that most sensitive spot, pushing her to the edge.

She whimpers when he pulls his hand away and she feels his lips smile against her.

“Tell me,” he says, as his wet fingers stroke her ass, tease the pink rosebud, “is this what you need?”

Easy, gentle, he presses into her and she opens her thighs wider, pushes her hips up. His mouth is hungry against her, dragging her up, building the pressure. His finger slides in and out of her in slow, tortuous strokes.

“Mmm, sweetheart? Is this what you need?”

“Fuck, yes.” The orgasm is powerful and her cunt throbs with it as she pulses around the finger that continues to slide in and out of her ass.

“Good,” he says. “We’re just getting started.”

She closes her eyes, alone in the quiet darkness of her bedroom, waits until the pulsing stops before she turns on her vibrator once more.

NYC - Part 8

NOTE: The NYC Series starts with Face to Face. If you haven't been following along, you may want to start there.

* * *

Saying goodbye to Sarah was bittersweet. Emily had enjoyed being with her, enjoyed the softness of her long, lean body wrapped around her own. But she wanted to spend her last day alone with Steve.

It was selfish, she knew, but she wanted this memory of just the two of them, wanted to savor it, hold it close to her heart, bring it out when she was home alone.


“Come here.” Steve patted the bed next to him.

Eager, ready, Emily crawled next to him. He pulled her close, cradled her body next to his.

“I’m glad you came down for a visit. It was more than I imagined.” He chuckled. “And I imagined it a lot.”

He pressed his open mouth against the back of her neck, flicked his tongue against her skin. He knew, now, that this was her strongest erogenous zone, and he smiled when she arched against him, rubbed her ass against his cock. He shifted, nudged, until the shaft rested between her firm cheeks.

“I like this,” he murmured against her ear.

Emily sighed in response. He was already saying goodbye.

As if he could read her thoughts, he wrapped an arm around her and whispered, “We don’t have much time.”

“No, we don’t.”

“How do you want to spend your last few hours here?”

She turned to him, pressed her lips against his. She meant it to be a simple kiss, void of emotion, but he groaned against her mouth and she melted. Saying nothing, she poured herself into the moment and his reaction was immediate. Teeth scraped against lips, teased and tugged.

It wasn’t rushed and frantic like before, when each of them was desperate to devour the other, impatient to learn, eager to know. They had spent the last two days doing just that. Now it was tranquil and languid, a hypnotic journey of pleasure.

His hands skimmed her hips, her fingers tangled in his hair. Her hands trailed up and down his back, his fingers pinched eager nipples. Their mouths never parted, until he broke the connection and trailed his lips down her throat.

She moaned, fell back against the bed. “Steve.” His name was nothing but a sigh.

His hand skimmed across her belly. “I have to do this,” he said against her mouth. Thick fingers pushed through the wet folds of her pussy. “I can’t wait.”

“Neither can I,” she panted.

Taking his time, he pushed apart her thighs, pressed open her lips. His head dipped down and she caught her bottom lip between her teeth, anticipating the thrill, bracing for the punch when his mouth devoured her cunt in greedy laps.

Steve bent forward and pressed his open mouth against her. “Mmmmm.” His quiet hum sent tiny shock waves through her, but he didn’t move. She shifted, tried to grind her pussy against his mouth, but he held her fast. “Just enjoy, baby.”

He stroked her thighs with his fingers until she relaxed into the bed. Only then, did he move his tongue.

It was delicious torture as he traced lines between the wet folds of her pussy, nipped at the tender skin inside her thighs. He traced lazy circles around the swollen nub, as blood pulsed. He blew warm air against her clit, but never touched.

“Steve,” she panted. “Please, Steve.”

It’s what he’d been waiting for…to hear her beg for him one last time.

His fingers had difficulty finding purchase—she was so fucking wet—but he managed to spread her open, take in the glistening lips for a few seconds, before clamping his mouth onto her.

“Oh, fuck,” she groaned, but kept still, as if she knew he would stop if she moved.

His lips pulled on her clit, making soft, sucking noises, as his fingers stroked her labia. No longer able to control herself, her hips moved. Not the desperate thrusting from before, but a gentle rocking, matching the tempo of his mouth and tongue.

“That’s it, baby.” Steve pressed a finger into her cunt and Emily bit back a cry. He pulled out and came back with two thick fingers, pushed them in and out of her, kept the slow, easy pace, as Emily chanted his name over and over.

Her cunt pulsed around his fingers when she came and he sucked the juices from them.

She was still a little dazed from the orgasm, the emotion of it, when he lay next to her, spooning as they had when Susan left.

“I’m going to be selfish now,” he said and he lifted her leg, pressed into her from behind.

He held her as his hips rocked against her ass, his cock sliding easily into her cunt, dragging her up again.

“Don’t forget this, baby,” he said. He stroked her clit with one hand and the next orgasm ripped through her.

“Not a chance,” she said.

* * *

This is the last chapter of the NYC series. I appreciate the comments (both private and posted). I love to hear from readers, so don't be shy. And if there's something you'd like me to write about, please ask...I'll gladly consider it. I do enjoy a challenge.