Pack Mistress #3 (Quick 'n' Dirty Erotic Paranormal Romance) by Evelyn Lafont Page B

blouse. I used my wet digit to tease her
nipple, first gliding over it gently, then rolling it slowly
between my finger and thumb.
    Becky moaned and then eased forward again. I
could feel her silky hair against my thigh as she began to lick the
inside of my long, smooth leg, working her way toward my pussy.
When her tongue began to stroke the crease between my thigh and my
mound, I could feel her smooth, soft face rubbing up and down. It
was sweet and had a heartbreakingly intimate quality that I wasn’t
used to. It was as though being loved by someone of my own gender
was somehow more whole—more emotionally complete—than when I got
fucked by a man.
     
    By this time, I’d stopped reciprocating and
no longer touched Becky’s breast, my hands now back on the chair,
gripping the arms tightly. I was too caught up in these new
sensations to even consider returning the favor. Becky brought her
hands to my thighs and pushed them further apart, then used her
tongue to explore my folds. Her small nose and delicate chin
occasionally bumped or rubbed the perfect spot and I found myself
trying to delay my orgasm so that these sensations could go on even
longer. Eventually, her tongue stopped teasing and got down to the
business of exploring my clit and its surrounding area, and she
moved one of her smooth fingers into me. She focused her finger on
my G-spot and her tongue on my clit and I lost any ability to think
or try and delay the inevitable, and I came, squeezing my thighs
closed around her head and shaking from the force.
    When I was done and too sensitive for any
more touching, she gently withdrew her finger and moved away from
me, leaving a trail of sweet kisses down my thigh.
    I straightened my back, moved my skirt back
down to regain my modesty, and opened my eyes slightly, daring to
look at her. Becky was still on her knees in front of me, smiling
like the cat that ate the pack mistress. I smiled back, my feelings
of shyness and discomfort returning as the edges of my orgasm
faded.
    Becky reached forward and stroked my face.
She started to rise and leaned toward my ear and whispered, “Next
time, you’ll keep your eyes open.” Then she kissed me, and I tasted
the tang of my own juice on her smooth, plump lips.

    ***
     
    Afterward, I felt awkward and could barely
make eye contact with Becky. It’s not that I was ashamed of what
we’d done, but in a way it was like being a virgin who’d had sex
for the first time and didn’t know what to do when it was all
over.
    “I want to reciprocate, I’m just—I’m not
prepared. I mean, I’m not sure I know what to do.”
    Becky smiled and patted my knee. “Don’t
worry. This gives you something to think about, and I loved fucking
you with my mouth so I got what I came for. Besides, I know what I
like, so I’ll help you when it’s my turn.”
    I nodded and folded my hands in my lap, then
watched my fingers twisting around each other. Becky rose and said
she should leave, and after a brief but comforting hug, she did.
Afterward, I showered and changed into jeans and a T-shirt. I tried
to paint but I couldn’t call my inspiration to the forefront and
ended up fondling brushes and staring at the canvas.
    At around one I left to get my mail and stop
at our little Quick-and-Go mart for milk and eggs. I entered the
large, echo-ey post office and as I was walking to my box, I heard
whispers coming from a row of boxes behind mine.
    I tried not to listen. In our small
community, everyone can usually pick up on everyone else’s problems
pretty easily without the unnecessary rudeness of eavesdropping,
but I was drawn in by the rushed, frantic quality of the
conversation, as though it were a revolving drain and I was a speck
of dust caught in it. I crept forward as quietly as possible, using
my toes to grip my sandals and control their flip-flopping. I
stopped moving as soon as I could clearly hear the hushed
conversation.
    “Well, that didn’t work, either. She