Chapter 16 Felicity
Felicity
What am I doing what am I doing what am I doing what am I doing?
I might look like I know what I’m doing right now, but it’s all a facade.
I don’t really know what I’m doing—I just know I need something.
A distraction. And Cupid’s right here, and he’s so sweet and handsome and attentive.
After remembering distinctly what it felt like to be ignored, to be nothing more than a blip on someone’s radar—in someone’s life—after they made themselves the center of mine, I’m wantonly craving attention.
I want to let go, but I need to feel wanted. And Cupid offered to fill that void.
Is it a good idea? Probably not.
Am I out of my depth? Definitely so.
But am I also insanely turned on and horny for this guy who makes me feel so comfortable in his presence?
God, yes.
I’m happy I have an excuse, in the form of an arrow, to fall back on when I remember this a few days from now. I will tell myself it wasn’t because I might actually be attracted to Cupid, that I might actually like like him. No, not me. It was the arrow that did it. Case closed!
So under those false pretenses, I am giving in to every temptation I’ve had since last night—since the night we met, if I’m being entirely truthful.
See, there aren’t many things I can commend Bryan for, but I did learn one very important lesson from being with him: If I want something, I need to speak up for it.
Right now, I want Cupid. And I want control.
Forget all the other stuff—I’m getting what I want.
I untangle myself from Cupid, hop off the bed, and take a deep breath. I can do this. I’ve always wanted to do this.
I haven’t had many sexual partners in my lifetime.
The ones I have had never took an interest in my pleasure, not really.
Sure, they would pretend at it. Do all the things they thought I should want without checking if it was what I actually wanted.
Bryan was the worst of them, but for him, I gave infinite chances.
Bryan was the kind of guy who always wanted to be in charge, which meant I was always supposed to submit—even in the bedroom.
Especially in the bedroom. I learned early on that I didn’t enjoy being submissive in that way.
There was an unexplored side of me that wanted to be the dominant one for once, just to see…
I could never get Bryan to agree. He’d laugh and tell me it’s cute that I wanted to try new things in the bedroom, but I should leave it up to him to initiate. He was more experienced, after all, and he knew what I really wanted.
Bryan never did understand that being older didn’t mean being better in bed.
I will myself to move, get into position. Now I’m standing at the foot of the bed. Here, Cupid is framed perfectly by the plush bedding, the ornate headboard. He looks hot as hell as he sits in the center waiting for my instructions.
“Take off your clothes,” I say, voice slightly shaky as I try to embody a Felicity who demands what she wants.
With slow, steady hands, Cupid begins to disrobe without breaking eye contact.
His jacket first, which he tosses to the ground.
Then his shirt—thrown aside. Now the belt.
Pants next. He lifts his hips and slips out of the stiff denim.
The room resonant with the sound of fabric rustling and our steady breaths.
Underneath those clothes—his armor, he called it—is a lean, tan body.
He’s not quite lanky, not quite bulky, but strong nonetheless.
He gives the impression of being coiled tight like a spring—that at any moment he could uncoil.
I swallow when he pauses, hands hovering over the elastic of his boxers in a question. Keep going?
I nod yes.
Cupid tucks his thumbs into the fabric and bares himself to me, cock already half-hard. He rests his hands behind his head, waiting for my direction.
A heat builds in my lower belly as I watch.
“Crawl to me.”
This time, the command comes out more self-assured.
If Cupid is turned off by this request, he hides it well. He simply tilts his head the slightest bit and smirks before getting on all fours and slinking toward me. My gaze flits over the shape of his shoulders and takes in how his arm muscles shift as he moves toward me.
He pauses at the foot of the bed and stays crouched, as imposing as a mountain lion, waiting. Ready to pounce—but only at my bidding.
Now what? I didn’t really plan this far ahead. My face heats, and I can feel the creeping blush of embarrassment taking over.
I’m overwhelmed. Out of my depth. Just considering giving up this charade when Cupid says, “Let go, Love. Take what you need.”
His eyes hold mine, telling me it’s okay, to keep going.
I clear my throat. “Did I say you could speak?”
Cupid smiles, then winks at me. “No,” he says.
“That’s right,” I reply, slipping back into the role-play.
“Kneel.” I point to the foot of the bed. “Right here. And put your hands behind your back.”
He does as he’s told immediately. I can feel myself growing hotter, more aroused, as I watch him follow my demands. Cupid is clearly experiencing the same thing. I see his length, thick and fully erect, twitch when I hike up my skirt and shimmy out of my lacy underwear.
“Maybe this will keep you quiet,” I say.
With one hand, I grab the back of Cupid’s neck and sink my fingernails into his skin.
Just hard enough to sting a bit. With a tug, I pull at his hair, forcing his head back at an angle, and then bring my other hand—the one holding the ball of thin red fabric—to his lips. I push my panties into his mouth.
He grunts. I look down just in time to see his cock pulse again.
Okay, this might be something.
With Cupid’s head still pulled back, I shift forward and lick the flat of my tongue from the base of his throat to the underside of his chin, slowly enough to feel the movement of his throat as he swallows.
“Mm,” I murmur, nibbling my way back down his throat. “I knew you’d taste good.”
I scratch the nail of my index finger across his clavicle, down the middle of his chest. “I wonder if all of you tastes this good.” My finger pauses at the base of his shaft, circling the short, dark hairs there, barely making contact.
“Would you like me to taste all of you, Cupid?”
He lets out a muffled “mmph” and seems to vibrate under my attention.
“I think,” I say, wrapping my hand lightly around his length, “that meant yes.”
With one hand to his chest, I shove Cupid back into the center of the bed.
He bounces once, then settles like a star on top of the lush covers.
I climb over him and straddle his torso.
His eyes are twin blazes as he watches my every move.
Then I set out to do exactly what I said I would do: I start tasting him. Every inch.
I pull his fingers into my mouth, one at a time, and suck.
I bite at his wrists, the delicate skin inside his elbow, the tender flesh at the backs of his biceps.
My tongue runs over his chest, teeth nibbling at each nipple before lavishing it with the warmth of my mouth.
I move deliberately, methodically from body part to body part—touching every part of him but his hard cock.
Cupid writhes as I sink my teeth into the hard muscle of his thighs, burrow my nails against his ass and rake them to the tops of his knees.
I feel his body react as my hair tickles his sensitive, pebbled skin.
And when I pinch the arch of his feet between my front teeth, I swear he moans my name, muted only by the panties still trapped in his mouth.
I feel as if I’m on cloud nine as I control Cupid’s pleasure in this moment. I’m intoxicated with it, high on the knowledge that I am having this effect on him.
“You like it, don’t you?” I say, nearly breathless. “A god submitting to a mortal. I guess I’m your goddess now.”
“Mmphh hmmm,” is all I hear, and I chuckle. Who knew I had this in me? And that Cupid would be game for this, exactly what I’ve been looking for.
My body is on fire. My skin is prickling with a new kind of desire—one I’ve never felt before. Not to be possessed by a man, but to possess a man so fully that all he’s thinking about is me.
Rather than ignore that impulse, I lean into it.
“I tasted you.” I strip so I’m fully nude—and at this, Cupid whimpers quietly. With finger and thumb, I pull my soaked panties out of Cupid’s mouth and toss them onto his stomach. He stays silent, watching me, chin glistening from his saliva.
“Now you taste me.”