Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
The cafe Billie had just walked into was one of the few places in London where she could go unnoticed. Small, tucked away, all dark wood and brass fittings. It was the sort of place where conversation remained low, and right now, it was exactly what she needed.
Ella usually claimed the corner table away from the window, and as Billie strode further inside and looked up, her best friend was already there, stirring sugar into her cappuccino with a smile on her face.
Billie envied her sometimes. That ease she had of someone who didn’t need to plan every breath they took.
“Christ, you look tired,” Ella said as Billie slid into the seat opposite. “Late night?”
“Busy morning,” Billie replied.
“Brown she hadn’t bothered this morning because she hadn’t known what would be in store for her at her appointment.
She ghosted her fingers over her slick lips, moaning into the room.
Every touch lingered on her skin, every whisper echoed in her mind, and as she rolled her fingertips over her swollen clit, she ached for something far more than her own hesitant strokes.
“God, Billie. Why won’t you touch me again?”
Closing her eyes, Debra allowed her memories with Billie to flood back.
Billie’s voice as she’d said, ‘Are you going to take it like a good girl?’, and Billie’s soft touches as they’d ignited her skin.
Now, alone, Debra whispered it into the silence of the room and eased two fingers inside herself.
Of course she imagined Billie’s fingers filling her instead.
Hers would be firmer, more insistent…pinching her clit just enough to make her gasp.
“Fuck.” Debra’s hips lifted off the couch. “Y-yes.”
She added a third finger and stretched herself with a low moan.
The slick sounds of her pussy filled the room, obscene and intimate, but it was all she could have right now.
The reminder of Billie kneeling between her legs, spreading her wide, that delicious tongue lapping her up before sucking her clit into her mouth.
Debra gripped the edge of the couch, her nails digging into the fabric as she fucked herself faster, chasing that ghost of sensation. Her walls clenched, greedy and aching for the real thing, but she’d had her chance, and now she could only live with the memory.
She imagined Billie wearing a strap on this time, fucking her over any surface she could. Debra would lie back and take it, so long as she got the opportunity to look into those eyes as she came.
But then their standoffish meeting today replayed in her mind like a taunt.
No invitation, no spark, just polite words and a gentle smile that left Debra burning for so much more.
She’d wanted to beg Billie to touch her, but fear had kept her silent in that moment.
Now, the fire was raging out of control.
She pressed the heel of her hand to her clit and whimpered, her body arching as pleasure coiled low in her belly. “Billie…”
In her mind, Billie was there, pushing her thighs apart, her fingers plunging deep while her mouth captured Debra’s in a bruising kiss. Then the fantasy shifted. Billie’s teeth grazing her nipple, twisting until Debra cried out, her pussy gushing around her slender fingers.
Sweat beaded on her forehead, her pants now shoved down to her knees, her legs spread wide. She thrust harder, the stretch burning so fucking sweetly as she rode her hand. “Fuck, yes.”
Her orgasm built, her breath coming in ragged as she pictured Billie’s eyes, dark with desire, locking onto hers as she drove Debra over the edge.
With a choked sob, it hit full force. Wave after wave crashed through her, her walls spasming around her fingers while her wetness coated her hand and thighs.
She kept moving, drawing it out, until she collapsed back, her chest heaving.
She may have taken the edge off, but the craving was deeper than ever now.
Debra lay there, her fingers still buried inside, staring at the ceiling. Billie was a drug she couldn’t quit, and this…this was just a pathetic substitute. Maybe she’d push at their next fitting. Maybe she’d make Billie see the need she’d ignited and refused to quench.
Or maybe she’d do nothing…and forever wonder about Billie Brown.