Free More Muffia (The Muffia Book 2) by Ann Royal Nicholas Page B

wasn’t even Thursday.
    I know, I know; he’s married. But please don’t judge me too harshly. I’m working on it. I have some of my profile written. And anyway, it’s my karma that will be affected, not yours. If he wanted me this bad, I must be doing something good. He said his wife doesn’t like sex, so perhaps I’m actually being charitable.
    “Oh, my God, that’s good,” he said. I don’t question his God.
    I told myself this wouldn’t happen, and I do feel weak, but I needed some loving after being confronted with those pictures and the possibility of losing my livelihood. Any normal person would need a tension release. And, due to my ankle, neither dance class nor the treadmill was an option. Perhaps those of you who are single, with stressful careers like mine, with a shortage of romance, might relate. Or maybe you’d just say I’m rationalizing my bad behavior.
    Thrust and hold .
    “Oooooh.”
    “Ahhhh.” Yes, this could get me there.
    Thrust .
    Madelyn told me, after Steven and I broke up the first time, that I should just use a vibrator to release tension. We even had a date to go vibrator shopping, but I blew her off to go on another bad date with an actor; how tacky of me.
    Thrust .
    I did finally buy a vibrator but...
    “Oh, yeah!”
    “Oh, God —I just can’t get the hang of the thing. And it’s called The Rabbit, which—”“Oh, Quinn, you’re so wet!”
    —“I’m sorry, even with the clitoral—stimu—it’s not a... ”
    “Fuck—”
    “I look at the thing, and it’s like having sex with the Easter Bunny, all pink and—”
    Thrust
    —“which, in turn makes me think of a lot of little kids in pinafores watching and pointing, counting their jelly beans.”
    Thrust
    Suffice it to say, I remain weak where Steven’s concerned. I want my very own man, but my options for this kind of release are—
    “Oh!”
    — limited. None of the Muffs knew I’d taken back up with him; I was too embarrassed to—
    Thrust.
    Ahh —tell them.
    “ Oooooohhhhh ,” he moaned; thrust .
    Yup—you got it; weak again.
    “Aaahhhhhh.” So good.
    Thrust—thrust—thrust—
    He started moving in that way that told me he was about to come— it’s not that hard to tell. And lately—well, probably since we made love for the fourth time, actually, he comes pretty quickly, and often—like today—leaves me in the dust. Then he says, “I love you,” in a perfunctory manner and gets dressed, while I pick my clothes off the floor.
    Oh, but the feeling! Thrust . . . thrust . . . shudder . . . drive. In and out, make me feel alive!
    I didn’t want to stop him. I didn’t want to stop myself. Truth be told, I’ve never been one for three-hour sex. I have too many things to do. I think ten minutes is just about perfect.
    “You feel outrageous,” he said, moaning.
    But one minute?
    “You’re so hard,” I moaned back. “So... hard .”
    “Oh, my God. I’m gonna—”
    “No, don’t—”
    “I’m going to—”
    “Not yet—”
    “Going to—”
    “—No, don’t—”
    “I’m going to—Oh!”
    “—come yet, please—”
    “Here I—”
    “No—”
    “—come!! I—”
    “Please, not—”
    “Yes!”
    “Not, oh—”
    “I’m cooommmming.”
    “Ohhh, God, you—”
    “I’m coooomming.”
    “—kill me—”
    “I’m coming .”
    “Wait!”
    “Here I come—”
    “Please... ”
    Thrust. “Aghhhhhh!”
    “Oh!”
    “Rrruhh—” Thrust.
    “Not yeeehh… ”
    Thrust. “Fuhbla…ahhh… eyaiischloooeee—”
    “Arghhhh!”
    Deeper, longer thrust . . . shudderrrrr.
    I hadn’t come.
    “Sorry. I couldn’t stop myself. But that was amazing,” he said, amazingly. “You had me so riled up, and I love this piece of furniture.”
    After another minute, he swept the hair from my face, leaned down, and caressed my lips with his own. “I love you, you know.”
    “ MMMmmm, ” I mmmmmmd , noncommittally.
    He really was a sweet man, even if he lied like a corporate titan.