This week’s prompt of “Simply the best” for the awesome milestone of the 200th (woot woot!) Wicked Wednesday has had me stumped. I’ve only been blogging a couple of weeks, and publishing a few months. I don’t think anything I’ve written is good enough to be called “simply the best.”
So my thoughts turned in other directions. I’ve learned lots of lessons since engaging with the writing community. And I’ve had some really good orgasms.
Well, it is the TWO hundredth post, so I’ll serve up both. Here you go, my best wicked O, and my best writerly lesson learned.
Best Wicked O
I’m not adventurous when it comes to public sex. I never would have considered having an orgasm in public before I met him. Cruising down the highway in his convertible, top down, wind teasing my hair into wicked tangles, sun caressing bare skin on my shoulders, arms, thighs, I jumped when his hand settled on my knee.
“Your nipples are hard,” he said.
“Oops.” I looked down. Sure enough, the thin tank top revealed stiff peaks. “Sorry.”
“I love it. Turns me on.” His big hand moved up my leg, slightly rough fingertips raising gooseflesh on the inside of my thighs.
I clenched my legs closed automatically. “What are you doing?” I could hear the shock in my voice. Just as I expected, he laughed, that sexy chuckle that made my heart skip a beat because I knew what it meant. He was going to push my boundaries.
“Ever cum in a car before?”
“Only that time in your Suburban.”
“Doesn’t count,” he dismissed. “We were parked in the woods. I mean, while you were driving down the road.”
“No, of course not. People would see.” The muscles in his forearm bunched and his hand moved deeper between my thighs. Closer to the part of my body that didn’t care we were in public. It wanted his touch. How did he always get me so hot?
“There’s no one else on the road,” he pointed out.
I looked around. True, the highway was deserted, but… “Right now there isn’t, but for how long?”
“How long would it take you to cum?” He grinned and pushed the edge of his palm against the seam of my shorts. Even with the bad angle, it sent a jolt of lust rocketing through me.
“Don’t,” I said. The wind tattered my weak protest. He ignored it anyway and turned his palm slightly to wedge me open. I grumbled even as I parted my legs.
“You keep a watch out for cars,” he suggested. “I’ll play with your pussy”
“You’re so bad,” I said, trying to sound cool, calm and collected. Hard to do when the last word turned into a moan. He rubbed firmly and I thought, Holy crap. I think he’s going to make me cum in a convertible going 70 miles an hour on the highway.
I checked over my shoulder. No cars on the horizon. The strip of trees dividing the eastbound and westbound freeway meant we only had to worry about our two lanes.
“You’re already wet,” he said. “Take off your shorts, let me play with you. I want my fingers inside.”
Can you orgasm just from someone’s words? Their voice? He’s always followed up his words with deeds, so I haven’t found out if it’s possible yet.
I didn’t bother protesting. Just unsnapped, unzipped, lifted my hips and wriggled everything down to my ankles. The sensuous touch of warm leather on my bare butt made me dance in place, rubbing my sex against it.
“Are you getting my seat dirty?”
He grabbed a rag from the back seat and handed it to me. “For clean up later. And in case we spot a car, you can cover yourself.”
My sexy boy scout. Always prepared.
His hand went back between my legs and I spread them as wide as I could, turning slightly, one knee up on the seat, forgetting all about keeping a watch for passing motorists in the pleasure of his touch. His fingers slid over the slippery wet nub, then a thumb stayed behind while the rest went exploring.
“Someone coming,” he said.
“Yesss,” I said, arching my back.
“No. I mean, there’s a car.” His hand withdrew, our car rocked slightly as he tried to do too many things at once. He dropped the rag over my lap just as an SUV blew past us. It didn’t even slow down.
I thought my heart would stop from shock, then the rush of relief set me giggling. He laughed, a kind of growl, and said, “I’m so turned on I want to pull over and fuck you.”
“You did this to yourself,” I said. “No nookie for you until we get to the hotel. Now finish me off, big boy.”
“You’re such a wench,” he complained, but his hand went back between my legs. This time he went for broke, two fingers pushing inside and curling toward the front, knowing what would bring me off fast.
“Oh, yes, that’s good, right there,” I encouraged, head back, sunshine caressing my skin like another lover. My hips pumped against him, legs straining to open more.
“Fuck, another one is coming,” he said, voice tense.
“I don’t care. Don’t you stop,” I moaned, tilting to get just the right angle, the right flick of a fingertip… Oh my God yes right there yes so damn good.
“You just came all over my fingers,” he said.
“Yep.” I said, head resting against the top of the door, relaxed, sweating from heat and lust.
“I’m fucking you so hard tonight,” he said.
And now for a lesson learned…
Invest in your book cover. I never realized how big a deal the cover is until I started publishing, and readers commented in their reviews about what they didn’t like about the covers I put together. I’m in the process of replacing my covers, and have summarized what I’ve learned about three methods of purchasing ebook covers here. If you have advice or resources, please share in the comments section on that page.
Check out other posts for Wicked Wednesday 200.