*Olivia*
I am unable to sleep. I can’t quite rid myself of the image of my tongue playing over Jack Moondancer’s skin. How exactly would it feel… would it taste? Although I am alone in my bed, alone in my room, I still feel self-conscious when I bring my hand up and lick the back of it. I do not think he would be so silky or taste so pure.
Would he lick me in return? I imagine that he would. That he would start at the tip of my toes and slowly slip along my flesh, perhaps stopping to detour around to the back of my knees, before journeying along the insides of my thighs…
I fling back the covers, desperate to relieve the heat. But my thoughts won’t be cooled. I envision him at my hip, taking a leisurely sojourn toward my breasts. I clamp my hands over them as though that is all I need
