Page 40 of Cupid Calamity
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SABRINA
The moment the cell slides open, his hands frame my face and his tongue is sliding against mine. We’ve been at the station way too long, it’s nearly two in the morning. But my night is far from over. I need to be with this man in every possible way until I leave for the airport at six. I wrap my arms around his neck, and we kiss as if he’s been off serving our country or actually in jail for years. There’s desperation from our slight separation. His hands settle on my hips, and he murmurs against my lips, “God, you taste good. I missed this.”
Such an odd thought, but I missed him too. My tongue is frantic, trying to move into his mouth permanently and searching for a place to take up residence. My tongue is mentally packing boxes and picking out a new couch. He’s volleying with mine, then his hands curl around to the top of my ass, and he pulls me closer. I feel his erection, then the nice policeman clears his throat. I jump back from him, and everyone clearly feels awkward.
I tuck my hair behind my ears. I have severe pussy ache now, so I do a couple of lopsided laps around the small room to calm myself down while he handles his paperwork.
We step out into the cold, and I say, “How does freedom taste?”
He turns and scoops me to him. “Like I need to taste you as soon as humanly fucking possible.”
I peck his lips. “Seems like a good plan, and I know just the bed. Come with me.” And then, as if on cue, a horse and carriage pull up. I look around, and he’s as skeptical as I am.
The driver bellows, “Yo. Yo. You Sabrina?” I don’t say a word. “Are you Sabrina Faire and Patrick Donovan?”
We walk hand in hand towards him. He says, “Yes. What’s going on here?”
“I’m here to take yous on a ride. I should be fucking sleeping so get in. I’m doing a big ask for my, let’s call him, uh, a cousin.”
Patrick shrugs and climbs up, pulling me with him. I nestle under the big fuzzy blanket.
“Where yous headed?”
I answer before Patrick can. “The Plaza, please.” His head whips around as he glides under the blanket. “It’s a long story but my sister got me this baller suite for tonight.”
Patrick laughs. “For Ricky?” I laugh too.
“So how do yous know my bookie, I mean cousin, Ricky?”
Patrick says, “Wait. Ricky arranged this?”
“Yeah, he felt bad for his hot head. Said he don’t want nothing to do with the cops and wanted to smooth things out with yous two, so everything stays buried.”
I blurt, “How the fuck does my sister know Ricky?”
Patrick laughs. “Tell Ricky thanks. We’re ready to go. Thanks, man.”
I snuggle into him as a chilly New York passes around us, but all I hear are the clip-clop of the horse and his heartbeat. He kisses the top of my head, and I feel a bit like a displaced Hallmark movie. My thoughts aren’t closed door, but this is wildly romantic.
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PATRICK
It’s two in the morning and the door is barely closed when I whip off my jacket and coat and throw them on the floor. She’s taking hers off in a panic as well. I need closer. I need naked. I need to let my cock do what I promised him all night. Her body slams into mine. She goes for my belt buckle, and I hike up her skirt. My hands reach into her thong at the exact moment her delicate fingers wrap themselves around my cock. We both groan.
“Now,” she rasps at me. She unbuttons my shirt. I loosen my tie and whip both over my head. Her hands rake down my chest. I pull her dress down, exposing her bra, and get the full view of this matching set. Fuck me. I thrust my hand back into her thong and feel for her swollen and wanting slit. I grind my palm into her clit, and she moans.
“Make that noise again. Fucking do it again.” I slide my fingers down and thrust into her, and she moans loudly.
