Chapter 1 - Noelle
Noelle
Fuck me—I’ve been stood up on Valentine’s Day.
Chris was supposed to pick me up an hour ago, and I’ve been home, twiddling my thumbs, waiting for a call, a text—something!
—but when nothing comes, I finally take a peek at his social media account out of curiosity.
Twenty minutes ago, he posted a selfie with his arm around a sexy woman with the caption, “Best Valentine’s date EVER!
” underneath it. I flatten my lips and my pulse speeds up the longer I stare at the picture.
The stupid thing is I didn’t even WANT to go on this date.
I met him at a party last week—the first party I’ve gone to in ages—and my friend was trying to set us up.
Chris joked he was going to be all alone for Valentine’s Day and my friend practically forced him to ask me out.
At that point, I felt obligated to say yes, but it’s not as if I wanted to be alone on Valentine’s Day either.
I’ve had a string of bad luck and I’m choosing to be single for a while, so the idea of a fun, no-strings-attached evening appealed to me.
Chris is hot, and a small part of me thought it was possible we’d end up in bed.
Which is why, under my short red dress, I’m wearing a matching black lace panty and bra set.
Yeah, okay, that’s a lie. I planned on fucking his brains out. I even went as far as getting a Brazilian wax this week and a mani/pedi. Christ, what does a girl have to do to get laid around here? It’s been far too long since I’ve had sex and my honey pot needs attention.
I plop down on my couch with a sigh. Motherfucker. Now what am I going to do? Glancing down at my strappy sandals, I contemplate my red-painted toes. I went through a lot of trouble for this date and it seems like such a waste to climb into bed alone and go at it with my toys.
My pussy twinges when I think about not having sex tonight, and I know I have to satisfy my itch.
I’ve been a wet, needy mess for days and was expecting a good boning after many long, dry months—or I think it’s been months.
Over Christmas I fell asleep at my parents’ house and had a really odd lifelike dream where I visited a fantasy winter wonderland.
I met this hot British guy named Nick and we fucked like rabbits for two hours.
Dream Nick gave me the best orgasm I’ve had in years.
But that couldn’t have been real. I mean, magical lands don’t exist..
.right? I’ve tried to avoid thinking about how, when I woke from my dream, my panties were missing.
If there is no fantasy land, then I was sleepwalking and removed my panties and must have stuffed them in an odd location at my parents’ house.
Years from now, my mom will pull out some sexy lingerie from a cupboard and wonder whose they are and how they got there.
I hope she doesn’t get pissed at my dad when she finds them.
Brushing aside the thoughts of my missing panties from that night, I flush when I think of Nick and absentmindedly caress my bare arm. Why can’t I meet someone like that in my city? Hell, I’d be willing to move for someone like him. That voice—God, that sexy British voice.
Slipping my hands between my thighs, I push my dress up and rub myself through the thin black lace covering my pussy.
Thoughts of Nick and all the delicious things he did to me in my dream flit through my mind as I spread my legs further and slip my fingers underneath the edge of my panties.
Maybe staying home won’t be so bad after all?
In a few minutes, I’ll move to my bedroom and pull out a selection of sex toys.
When I push my favorite toy deep inside of me, I’ll be thinking about Nick again—like I’ve been doing for weeks now every time I play with myself.
I caress my clit, close my eyes, and moan, swirling my fingers around my swollen bean faster.
Fuck, at this rate, I might come once right here on the couch before I move to my bed.
There’s no need to be quiet since I live alone and my apartment has thick walls, and as I edge closer to my orgasm, I groan out, “Oh, my god.”
A cough and someone clearing their throat freaks me out and my eyes fly open.
I scream out, “What the fuck!!!”
Standing in front of me is a slender young guy who is barely a day over 18.
Since he’s staring straight at my cooch, he damn well better be 18.
He’s wearing a white toga draped around his shoulder, and strapped to his back is a golden bow and arrow.
Nestled into his blonde, curly hair is a crown of green leaves that are obviously real and smell freshly-cut.
He’s adorable and if I were 10 years younger, he’d be just my type, but no way in hell am I interested in a guy his age when I just turned 30.
Realizing my legs are still wide open, I remove my fingers from my pussy and snap my knees closed.
“What the hell are you doing in my apartment?”
I don’t even bother to address the strange-ass outfit he’s wearing for Valentine’s Day. Whatever kinkiness he’s into is not my business, though a small part of me is impressed that a guy his age would explore his sexuality. Most people don’t do that until they’re older.
He smiles at me, his eyes twinkling. “I’m here to take you with me, of course.”
Oh, hell no. I’m not going anywhere with this dude.
I’m about to bark at him to get the fuck out of my apartment when I realize the wall across the room has an heart-shaped portal, big enough for a person to walk through.
On the other side, bright sunlight filters through and everything looks pink from my vantage point on the couch. Uh, what’s this?
The guy must have sensed my confusion because his grin widens. “You don’t want to keep Nick waiting, do you?”
Oh fuck, yes! Excitement zips through me and I spring up, dashing towards the portal as fast as my strappy sandals will allow. The weird guy can come along if he wants, but last time I only got two hours with Nick and if that’s what’s happening now, I’m not wasting a second of it.