Chapter 5 Olivia #2
I immediately shut off my vibrator. “No! Fuck you, Isaac. You don’t get to own my orgasms anymore, asshole!” I shout to the abyss. He’s not an asshole, but he’s definitely the last man I should be touching myself to. Still, his words from years ago pierce my ears. “I’m yours, always.”
This is bullshit.
Faceless man eating me on his desk.
This isn’t hard, just pretend he’s blond or something.
I can do this.
After several grounding breaths, I turn on my vibe, and submerge it in the water again, imagining a man with no glasses, no beard, no floppy hair, no dimple, no voice that makes my knees weak…
Except that’s exactly what I want.
It isn’t like he’d know.
What’s the difference between this time or the other hundred times fucking myself thinking of him? Who’s counting?
I’d give literally anything for Isaac to call me a good fucking girl—even if it’s imaginary. So what if I’m touching myself thinking about my ex-boyfriend who ruined me for all other men?
“That’s right, babygirl, show me how wet you are for me,” he whispers beside my ear, but it doesn’t feel like something he’d say to me.
I try again. “Such a good fucking girl, begging on your knees. Look how hard I am for you, Livy, and I haven’t even touched you yet.
” While it’s also not something he’d say, honestly it doesn’t matter at this point.
It’s definitely doing something for me—I just need to come.
“Yes,” I breathe, turning up the intensity on the vibe. Not caring that I’m talking to myself, I tell fictional Isaac, “I want you in my mouth.”
“Don’t tempt me, babygirl. I’ll happily shove it down your throat, but we both know what you need.”
“And what’s that, Daddy?”
“You want me to breed you.”
What. The. Actual. Fuck.
No. Nope. Absolutely the fuck not.
Shoving his cum back inside me? Hot. But full-on knocking me up? Not on my watch, even if it’s all just pretend. I am not manifesting that for me. Maybe one day, but not today. I need to start over. One more try, then I’m resorting to audio erotica.
Maybe this isn’t working because I’m thinking of Isaac.
Closing my eyes again, I imagine being bound to my bed, told by my usual faceless man, “You look so pretty tied up.” The mild praise holds me over as I drag the vibe lower, teasing and pushing inside me.
Just an inch. But Isaac’s stupidly beautiful face pops up from between my thighs to tell me, “Fuck, Livy, you taste too good.”
“Fuck! Shit! Damn it!”
That’s it, off to my usual…
My phone is too far away and I’m too lazy to get out of the tub.
I’m going about this all wrong. Isaac was the best sex I ever had because it was never just sex with him.
He wasn’t Daddy Isaac by any stretch of the imagination, it was more about how he took his time and worshiped me as if the sole reason he was put here on this earth was to bring me pleasure. He made me feel safe. Loved.
There is no way in hell I’d survive seeing him in person and not having my entire soul shatter into a thousand pieces.
When we were younger, each and every time he kissed me, my entire body would light up.
Even after all these years, if he dared to so much as look at me again, my pussy would fucking flutter, just like it did when I listened to his voicemail before calling him back.
I hate that my breath still catches after all these years just hearing his name.
Attending the summit in person would be catastrophic for me—emotionally, mentally, physically… all of it.
But what if I did?
The moment he saw me, if we were alone, would he pin me against the wall?
Maybe a commanding hand on my throat? Chests heavy, he’d tell me something ominous like, “Time’s irrelevant.
” I wouldn’t have a moment to figure out what he meant as his lips crash into mine.
Then, after I’m breathless, he’d admit, speaking into my mouth, “You’re still mine, Livy. ”
Okay. I can work with this.
Sliding my vibrator between my legs again, I tease my clit, imagining Isaac locking the door, then placing me onto a large conference table.
He’d work in silence, sliding his hands up my thighs as he pushes up my skirt.
With heat and hunger in his eyes, he’d lower his mouth to the inside of my thigh. A little nip is all he’ll give me.
“I can mark you here, and no one but us would know.”
The way I’d tattoo his bite marks there if he did it.
I slide my vibe lower, pressing it inside me slowly until the little rabbit ears are on my clit.
Adjusting the setting, the shaft begins wiggling inside me, and it takes a few clicks until I find my favorite—steady pulse tapping my G-spot.
I imagine him sinking his teeth into my flesh, sucking until my skin is bright red but not quite purple.
A whimper escapes me, needing his mouth and fingers instead of this stupid vibrator.
Just like hundreds of times before, I continue to fuck myself, wishing it was him.
I used to feel shame, but it’s become more of a guilty pleasure I’m addicted to.
As he pulls me closer until my ass is at the edge of the table, a desperate plea slips past my lips, “Please, Isaac.”
“I’ve waited years to touch you again. You’re going to be my good girl and let me take my time.”
The ache in my core builds, and even with Isaac’s fictional commands, I can’t bring myself to disobey them.
It’s all just pretend—there’s no harm in leaning into the fantasy.
As promised, he tortures me with feather-light kisses up my legs, murmuring sweet praises as he makes his way to my center.
Through his imaginary licks, I increase the intensity of my toy, and I’m so wound up, my orgasm tears through me before my imagination can catch up with it.
“I told you to wait, babygirl,” he chuckles darkly.
Keeping the vibe in place, I envision it’s his tongue on my clit as I ride out my high.
Guilt creeps in as I pull the vibrator from my pussy and shut it off.
For all the times I’ve touched myself thinking of him, I’ve never regretted using him to get off like this.
It could be from the stress of the election or from talking to Isaac briefly on the phone.
If I’m going to get through the next few months before meeting with him—even if it’s only remotely—I need to stop imagining his face between my legs… and should probably get laid.