Page 48 of Diners, Damsels & Wolves

After locking the door, she checked the windows. His car was gone. In the kitchen, she filled a glass with tap water and started chugging. A hot flush had worked its way over her skin.

“Your friend seems lovely.” Rachel sat at the kitchen table.

“Yeah, he is, isn’t he?” She refilled her glass.

“Well, I’m going to take a book and go lay in bed.” Rachel took a book off the shelf at random, then shuffled off to her room. “Have a good night, Claire, don’t stay up too late, you’ve got school in the morning.”

“Good night, aunty.” Standing in the kitchen, she drummed her fingers on the counter. At this rate, she wasn’t going to get any sleep.

After brushing her teeth, she went into her room, locked the door, and stripped. Keyed up and restless, she yanked back the purple floral covers and lay naked and uncovered atop her bed.

The chill of the room caught up to her, goose bumps crept over her flesh. It felt good. A welcome contrast to the heat she felt boiling up in her.

Her already erect nipples turned hard in the chill. She wondered what Tom’s mouth would feel like on them, warm and wet, eagerly suckling.

Groaning, she curled her fingers into the sheet beneath her. She wondered what else he would do. Getting more flustered by the second, she realized this was entirely the wrong path to let her mind take.

Well, just because he wasn’t there, didn’t mean she couldn’t do it her damn self. Though, if she was being honest, she was sick and tired of having to do it herself. But this was an emergency; Clarissa thought she was about to explode.

Licking her first two fingers, she warmed them up and coated them in her saliva. She relaxed her legs and moved her hand down. Spreading her labia open, she pressed against herself.

Letting out a sigh, she found the spot. The wonderful location where her nerves clustered and sent thrills through her like waves of charged pleasure. Moving her fingers back and forth, she leaned her head back into her pillow. Squeezing her eyes shut, she bit her lip and moved her fingers faster.

Temperature rising, a light sheen of sweat built over her as she changed the pattern of her movements. Firm and circular. She moaned, the anticipation growing in her pelvis. She wondered what Tom’s mouth would feel like pressing into her lips, trailing kisses over her skin, down to her legs, his mouth settling in between her thighs, tongue exploring her.

Panting, she teased her nipples. They were sensitive from something other than the cold. She pressed against herself until her legs twitched and a strangled gasp caught in her throat. But it wasn’t enough.

Reaching further down, she twisted her wrist and pushed her fingers inside. She altered the angle, moving until her thumb pressed against her outside just right.

Breath coming fast, she held her thumb against her clitoris while pushing her fingers in and out. With a muffled cry, she slid a third finger inside.

Keeping her thumb steady, she moved her fingers faster and faster until her back arched off the mattress, her toes curled, finding her release again and again.

After using the hand sanitizer on her bedside table, she lay back down and pulled the covers over her. Turning to her side, she burrowed into her blankets. As she fell asleep, she wondered what would happen on Friday.

* * *

Thursday at the diner passed slower than usual. Despite knowing Tom wasn’t able to make an appearance, Clarissa couldn’t help watching the door.

Around five in the afternoon, a few early suppers trickled in, and she finally stopped looking up every time the door opened.

“Hi, Clarissa.” Jordan came in from the back, tying his apron on. His uniform looked like the top half of a waitress’s dress had been cut off and paired with black slacks. She couldn’t tell if the end result was classic or funny looking.

“Afternoon, Jordan,” she greeted him, filling the coffee maker and giving it a whack.

“How late you working today?”

“Just another hour.”

“Alright cool, any update on the current tables?”

“Three of them already ordered, four others just sat down.” She gave him a rundown of each table and their orders.

“What about the corner booth?” he asked.

She glowered at the occupants in Tom’s usual spot. “They have been here all day. Every few hours, another one shows up and one leaves. It’s bizarre, but they’ve been paying and ordering, so I haven’t pressed the issue.”

“Huh, guess they just really like greasy diner food. Well, I’ll take this half and start seeing who’s ready to place orders.”