My crazy neighbor lying naked in the produce section of a grocery store.
The sting of a knife as it slices through my flesh.
Now I know why they say life is never easy.
The soft touch of Tria’s hand against my chest is the only thing that keeps me going, but there are consequences. As a fighter, I should be able to deal with anything life throws at me, but there is one circumstance I simply can’t handle.
I only have one coping mechanism: a tube around my arm and a needle in my vein.
Shay Savage lives in Cincinnati, Ohio with her family and a variety of household pets. She is an accomplished public speaker, and holds the rank of Distinguished Toastmaster from Toastmasters International. When not writing, she enjoys science fiction movies, masquerading as a zombie, is a HUGE Star Wars fan, and member of the 501st Legion of Stormtroopers. When the geek fun runs out, she also loves soccer in any and all forms - especially the Columbus Crew, Arsenal and Bayern Munich - and anxiously awaits the 2014 World Cup. Savage holds a degree in psychology, and she brings a lot of that knowledge into the characters within her stories.
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Open mouthed, I moved from her lips, up the line of her jaw, to her ear, and back again. With my free hand, I crept from her hip up her side, and my thumb stroked the skin of her stomach. I felt her hand over mine.
I started to pull away, assuming her intent was to tell me to stop, but her grip on my fingers tightened. Opening my eyes, I looked down at her and watched her tongue dart out over her lips before she slowly pushed my hand upwards.
“You sure?” I breathed, hating myself for even asking the question instead of jumping on the opportunity. In response, Tria rose up just enough to pull her shirt up over her head.
My cock tried to jump right through the material of my jeans to tit fuck her right there in her bra.
I had to physically restrain myself from the action as she settled back above me on her knees. The bra itself wasn’t unfamiliar—I’d seen all of her clothes in the drawers before—but having the lacy white material wrapped around her smooth breasts laid out before me was completely different.
I sat up and moved her with me until she was flat on her back on the couch, and I was hovering over her. I moistened my lips as I gazed down at the pale flesh before me with only a slight curve visible at the top of the lacy front.
As slowly as I could endure, I traced her skin from the edge of the thin strap around her shoulder and down to the mound of flesh against the lace edge. Barely touching her, I outlined from one edge over the curve, down into the slight dip, and back over again. My fingertip completed the trek back up to her other shoulder, and then began to make its way down again.Once it hit the center of the dip again, I fanned out my fingers—still keeping my touch ultra-light—and stroked slowly toward the outside of her breast. I could feel my own breathing increasing in tempo with hers as I touched her through the thin material. I mimicked the motion with my other hand and the other breast, leaning in to kiss her shoulder as I moved.