tagRomanceCalling Cupid

Calling Cupid

byadeleknight©

Vibrations purred between my thighs and my hips arched. That sweet musky scent of arousal swirled beneath my nose and invaded my thoughts. Every instinct blurred expect the need to rock; to push and pull; to fuck myself until I burst.

A delicate coil twisted down low in my belly, winding outward and splintering until every nerve ending sparked. I was so close.

My thumb rolled over the smooth plastic button ready to send me over the edge. I pushed, and the veiny rubber cock gyrated. Round and round it stroked until I was swollen and aching for release. The coil tightened, and I bit down hard on my lips. This was it. I was going to come. Finally.

My hips rocked in time with each thrust; back and forth at that perfect tempo. Convulsions gripped my walls, refusing to let the toy go.

One more thrust.

Two more.

Three.

Wait.

The coils loosened and that tight, desperate sensation clawing inside fizzled to nothing. Noooooo!

The useless piece of junk flopped to the bed and I smacked my fists into the blanket. "Fuck. Fuck. Fuck."

Beep beep beep.

I stabbed a finger at the screeching alarm. "Fuck you phone. Fuck you orgasm." I threw the covers off and stomped to my feet. "And fuck you, Hugh Young."

It had been three months since we broke up. Three months without an orgasm.

Cold morning air prickled fueling my icy mood. Love fucking sucked.

White hot steam clouds billowed around me. I stepped beneath the shower and let the silky drops splash down my back. I was going to land this client, make myself come harder than I ever have before and prove to my broken vagina that we didn't need Hugh or his perfectly formed cock.

I stepped out of the shower, into some clothes and slammed the apartment door behind me. Red roses, pink hearts, and goofy smiles of every goddamn pedestrian burned my eyeballs.

I slid my sunglasses on blocking out the glare. It was Valentine's Day.

Fan-fucking-tastic.

***

"You forgot?" Josie moaned from behind her over-commercialized desk. Cupid had an orgy and shot his glitter spunk all over it—that was the only description for what I was seeing.

I hung my black coat up on the wooden vine stretching from the wall and smoothed my black skirt down my hips. "Pink isn't my color."

Josie tossed a t-shirt at me, "Good thing I ordered white."

I caught the soft cotton in one fist and held it up to my face. Chubby winged baby archers and red hearts made me want to gag. "I am not wearing this."

"Oh good Cassie, you have your shirt." Roman, my overweight, and over-joyful boss walked toward me. A tight red t-shirt curved over his rolling belly, distorting the chubby babies.

I puffed my cheeks into a grimace and waved the shirt in his direction as he disappeared into his office.

"Do I have to wear this?" I whined.

"Promotion." Josie whispered.

I frowned. I wanted that promotion. Proving I was more than some girl Hugh Young used to date was all I thought about—and my non-existent orgasm.

"Don't people know how to swipe right anymore?" I moaned and shuffled to the kitchenette.

Josie's hurried footsteps followed me "Says the woman whose career is romance."

Matchmaker. That was my job—creating romance for others while my love life consisted of a broken vagina and avoiding the gossip section of magazines. Rock Star ex-boyfriends were popular news topics.

Hugh's thick lips and sexy smile grinned up at me from the kitchen bench.

My clit pulsed, remembering the way those lips used to latch on. I flipped the magazine over and glanced down to my thighs. Traitor.

"I take it you don't have a Valentine either."

My heart clenched. Hugh always made Valentine's day special. He was the reason I decided to pursue a career in Matchmaking. I wanted everyone to be as happy as I was. I snorted to myself—Single and desperate for an orgasm. "I don't need a Valentine."

Josie frowned at me, but her phone pinged, cutting off her reply. She tapped the screen and groaned. "Oh no." She looked over her shoulder and back at the phone.

I tilted the jug and cream split the brown coffee in delicate coils—like the ones that fizzled away to nothing inside of me this morning. "What?"

"Mr. Dean rejected all the matches you emailed last night."

My stomach sunk. "No!"

Damn it. Robert Dean was the last client I had to sign this month. Matching never usually took this long and now I was down to the last day of the month. If I didn't sign Mr. Dean the promotion was a no-go. "It's Okay. I have back up profiles."

Nothing was going to stop me from getting that promotion.

Roman's throaty, stomach wobbling laugh rumbled down the hall toward us.

Our eyes widened at the same time. Josie grabbed the steaming mug from my hands, and I ripped off my blouse, rolling the t-shirt down my arms. It was tight and uncomfortable, and cupids butt stretched over one boob, his arrow aimed at my clit. Great.

Roman walked passed and noticed my shirt. Two thumbs up and an approving smile shot my way.

That promotion was mine.




Chapter 3

"How are the shirts?" Amy's fuzzy red curls poked around my door. Green eyes dropped to my chest, and her lips curled. The same shirt clung to her chest, her signature logo printed on the bottom right corner.

I jabbed at the ass on my boob and shook my head. "I love you, but did Cupids butt have to be so big?"

"How about a big fat 'I fucking love Valentine's Day' heart next year." She chuckled and leaned against the door frame.

"I hate you."

"No, you don't."

"I know. What are you doing here anyway?" I asked.

"I finally gave in."

I pulled my lips down into a grimace. "You didn't"

She shrugged. "It's a free lunch."

"But it's Steve with his greasy hair and foot fetish." My toes curled, remembering his leer whenever I passed the accounts department. "Let me make you a profile, run a few matches."

Amy shook her head. "I can't afford you. I'm barely making a profit. If it weren't for Roman's holiday t-shirt obsession, I'd be out of business already."

I rolled my eyes. "I'm not going to charge you."

She opened her mouth to reply, but Steve's beady black eyes appeared over her shoulder. They zeroed in on my black painted toes poking out beneath my desk. "Hello, Cassie."

I slowly slid my feet backward and tucked them safely into my heels. "Steve."

Amy pinched her smiling lips together. "I'll catch you later."

She waved goodbye and walked toward the elevator. Steve followed close behind, his eyes glued to her feet.

My shoulders convulsed. "Eww."

I turned back to the monitor and scanned the latest results. Eleven potential matches, varying from blond to brunette ranging between twenty-two and forty-nine years old. One of them had to be a match for Mr. Dean.

A notification pinged on the screen, and my stomach dropped.

Hugh's face seemed to be inescapable since his debut single went platinum. I avoided looking most of the time, but mutual friends made that problematic. Soft brown hair that angled in all directions and intoxicating blue eyes made my heart skip.

My eyes lingered on his sweet grin. He was as heartbreakingly gorgeous as the day we said goodbye. Which also happened to be the last orgasm I ever had. A slow burn crackled between my thighs, swelling the tiny bud. "You are a fucking traitor" I hissed down at my lap and squeezed my legs together but the pressure only amplified the deep unfulfilled ache.

Air rushed out of my mouth. I couldn't keep going like this, constantly wound tight without relief. I arched my neck and tried to peer outside of my door. The office sounded empty; most people would be at lunch.

I bit my lip and tiptoed to my door, pushing it closed with a silent click. I darted back to my desk and bounced onto the seat, heart pounding and a flush starting to bloom across my skin. Touching myself in my office was a crazy idea.

I pressed my thighs tighter together sending a surge of heat to my belly. The coils we're back, slowly tightening and making promises I couldn't ignore. Maybe the thrill of possibly getting caught was what I needed to send me over the edge. Hugh and I used to fuck wherever we felt like it—backstage, the car, his parent's bathroom. I always came within minutes.

The blush bloomed, swelling my chest and heating my nipples until they were hard and sensitive to the slightest touch. I brushed one palm over them and pinched. Sparks ricochetted down to my belly, and I hissed.

I trailed my fingers down to my thigh. Skin touched skin, and my nostrils flared. I curled my fingers beneath the fabric and traced a swirling pattern up my thigh. They parted in anticipation, urging my fingers closer.

Lace brushed against my fingertips, and my breath quivered. Heat pulsed from my core, sticky and wet. A moan rolled up my throat, but I swallowed it down. Masturbating on office hours was probably not the best use of my time.

But I couldn't stop. My body was wound tight, the need to come almost painful now. I hadn't orgasmed since I told Hugh that I couldn't move to LA with him.

An ache tightened my chest. But I ignored it. I shifted my hips forward, opened myself up more and played. My fingers stroked and teased, dipped beneath the lace and split my lips apart. Silky warmth enveloped my fingertips, and I pushed, edging closer to filling myself up.

The door rattled and jerked open. Josie strutted toward my desk, a pile of paperwork in her arms.

I jumped, snatching my hand out and smacking my knee against the roof of my desk. The yelp and rush of pain hid the embarrassed pink coloring my skin. "Hey. Hi. I...um...Didn't you go to lunch?"

"Just about to. Are you ok?" She dropped the paperwork and a small package on my desk.

I nodded. Keeping my sticky fingers hidden. "Yep. Just hit my knee. What's this?"

I picked up the small box and shook it. The rattle of something hard on the inside mimicked the smack of my heart against my ribs.

Calling Cupid was printed in pink cursive on the side, an elegant white bow tied on top.

Josie shrugged. "Found it in your mailbox. I'm heading to lunch now. Need anything?"

A good pounding. "Email that new list of profiles to Mr. Dean?"

"Sure" Josie nodded closing the door behind her.

I slumped into the chair, blowing out a relieved puff of air. That was close. Not orgasming had turned me stupid, or desperate.

I peered at the box, almost curious. Any distraction was better than sitting here thinking about my ex or my broken vagina.

The lid wobbled from side to side then popped off. A heart-shaped stone, a vial of oil and a small card sat nestled inside.

I turned the stone over in my hand. It was warm and light, nothing like what I expected. It felt almost fluffy, how I imagined a cloud would feel. "Wear the scent to draw him forth. Hold the stone close to your heart and say: I call on thee to inspire what mine heart doth truly desire."

I frowned. "What rubbish." I huffed, dropping the card. I didn't need some cheap gimmick to tell me what I desired...A fucking orgasm. How was a cloud rock, some nasty looking vial of who knows what and a piece of card-stock going to help me with that?

A thick, earthy scent curled beneath my nose. Vibrant and fresh, it reminded me of digging in the garden after a rainstorm. Was it the oil?

I grabbed the vial, popped open the lid and sniffed. An open field of freshly mowed lawn and sweet wildflowers invaded my office. The scent seemed to bind with the blood vessels flowing through my veins and kick them into a chaotic dance.

I gasped, dropping the vial and spilling the rich scent onto my chest. The cold liquid dripped into my cleavage, staining the shirt and soaking my skin. "Damn it."

I scrubbed, but the movement forced my skin to absorb the oil faster. Those same coils that taunted me with unfulfilled promises tightened low in my belly again. But it was different this time, more urgent. "Oh." I squeaked, my spine stiffening. "What the hell is in that oil?"

I spun the bottle between my fingers, searching for ingredients. None.

I grabbed the small note and flipped it over.

Warning: Effect will expire as you gain desire.

My lit twitched, daring me to speak the words. "It's just novelty holiday nonsense. Roman probably put it in there for a laugh."

The heady scent clung to my skin, and that slow-burning ache shifted to an intense sparking need. My clit twitched, pleading, desperate to try anything. "Fine."

I popped the cloud rock into my bra, nestled it close to where my heart drummed beneath and cleared my throat. "I call on thee to inspire what mine heart doth truly desire."

My brows arched and I scanned the roof for chubby floating babies with wings. I snorted and tossed the card back into the box. "Stupid gimmicks."

A fresh wave of perfume stirred the air beneath my nose, and another burst of arousal tightened my nipples. I fanned my face. Time for some air.

The floor was empty, the rest of the office including Josie, now at lunch. I stabbed the elevator button and waited.

And waited.

And waited.

I spun toward the stairs in a huff, the stairwell door slamming behind me. My heart jumped beneath my ribs, and I hurried down the stairs, hating the confined space. It was the same on airplanes, the tiny cabins and cramped seats made my anxiety worse. Hugh knew how to distract me with his fingers buried beneath a blanket.

I stumbled down to the next floor, almost wishing Hugh was here to distract me. He knew the exact way to touch me when I needed it. His tongue was the perfect wake up call and his smooth, veiny cock my nightly sedative. It was his fault I couldn't come anymore. We fucked so much that my body forgot how to reach that peak on it's own.

The air rushing around me wafted Cupid's oil back up my nose, and I whimpered. The heat that flushed beneath my skin intensified and the coils threatened to break. I was so desperate to come, but it was no use. I was going to die in a permanent state of arousal because my ex-boyfriend wrote a song about me.

Lights flickered and burnt out, blanketing me in complete darkness.

I flattened my hand against the wall, groping for balance. What the hell?

Footsteps sounded at the bottom of the stairwell, one after the other, slowly growing louder as the body stalked closer to me.

My heart drummed against my ribs, and cotton balls invaded my mouth—my tongue fat and dry, unable to form words. Stranded in a dark stairwell with a stranger...not good. "H...Hello."

The slap of his feet stop directly in front of me. I swallowed the panicked squeak and gripped the railing, prepared to haul myself backward and hide in a corner. That same wild, earthy scent perfuming my skin seemed to radiate from the stranger but raw and real, as though it ripened within him. My grip loosened and my heartbeat slowed. His scent fueled the hunger clawing at my insides until my breaths were ragged and my nipples bunched to hard points.

"You called." His voice rose at the end, almost in question, but the slight hum beneath the words was confident and expectant.

"Um, no. I left my phone in my office." I said, but my voice sounded husky.

This strangers proximity caused a flutter of butterflies in my stomach. I should have been scared, but there was something almost familiar about his voice, his presence.

Hot air rushed across my cheek, "You don't need me." He murmured.

I sucked in a breath, "I'm sorry, what?"

A trail of warm breath dipped into the crease between my breast. "But it would be so much fun if you did."

My throat thickened and I swallowed. "Who are you?"

The tip of his nose brushed the soft skin beneath my ear and his lips touched my neck.

Electricity splintered through my veins, fusing to the giant coil that promised to rock my world very soon. I could see that sweet, lust-quenching horizon. Was I finally going to come?

"Touch me." I breathed, unashamed at my brazen demand of this almost familiar stranger.

His lips pressed against my neck once more then pulled away "This body is not my own. I've done too much with it already."

A dozen questions peppered my thoughts, but my clit was swollen and my thighs trembling. I couldn't think straight enough to form the words. I gripped the railing to steady myself and locked my knees together as a flood of sticky heat coated my panties. "I need..."

"I know" He whispered. His fingers played along the edge of my shirt, tracing the outline of the heart-shaped rock nestled against my heart. His fingers slipped into my bra, plucking the stone from beneath the lace, barely touching my skin. I hissed and arched my back, desperately wishing that he would.

"Sit down and spread your legs." The stranger's seductive voice directed.

My legs collapsed, as though designed to follow his lead. Cold cement pressed into my back, but the heat burning in my veins kept me warm.

His breath hovered close to my ear making my spine shiver. "Slide your fingers between your thighs. They know what to do."

I hesitated. "Not anymore."

My stranger chuckled, a soft, sexy laugh. Familiarity prickled the skin on my arms and my heart clenched. I could almost picture Hugh standing above me, eyes dark and intense, fingers peeling his jeans open and his beautiful, orgasm-inducing cock on display. But he wasn't here.

"They've always known." He purred.

"Then why haven't I been able to come since..."

"Since Hugh left?"

I hissed in a breath. How did he know?

Calling Cupid. The verse on the card flashed in my head. Was this... "Cupid?"

I could almost feel the smile curling his lips. "I have many names, but you may call me by that one if you like."

If I like? The only thing I wanted right now was a well overdue, earth-shattering explosion. The type that made my eyes squeeze shut and my tongue roll out of my mouth like a panting dog. I didn't care how ugly my sex face was. I just wanted sex.

"Cassie." His voice was tight and his tone commanding, forcing me out of my head and into the present. "Push your panties to the side and touch your clit."

The eager little bud pulsed in agreement.

Anyone could push open the door to the stairwell, bathe the darkness in light and see exactly what was happening. I would also see my seductive stranger.

Images of a chubby diaper wearing cherub popped into my head. I rolled my eyes into the darkness. "You don't have an arrow pointed at me do you?"

His laughter was hot on my cheek. "You don't need my help falling in love."

A spasm tightened my chest. What did that mean?

"Relax, Cassie." He cooed, "And touch."

My fingers took control, sliding and stroking. The cold cement pressed into my back and shoulders but I didn't care. That tightness was curling low in my belly. Blood simmered beneath my skin, and a blush warmed every inch in the darkness. Two fingers plunged, in and out. Slow then harder and faster, a frantic, panicked rhythm taking over. I was desperate, and I didn't want to lose it. Not again.

I had to know that breaking up with Hugh was the right thing, that I didn't need him to be happy or to orgasm.

The twinge in my heart threatened to derail the motion of my fingers. Was I happy?

"Pinch your nipple." Cupid urged, and I pushed aside any thoughts of Hugh.

I reached one hand up and gripped my breast, pinching, and tugging. "Oh..." I bit my bottom lip, stifling the moan.

Heat swirled in my head, and a burst of colors flickered beneath my eyelids. My breast swelled until my lungs felt heavy and the air thick.

My fingers curled inside and my thumb flicked up, brushing and pressing. Sweet warmth boiled between my thighs then flowed down to my toes and up my spine. "Ahh..."

I rocked against my fingers, back and forth, riding out the sensations. A blissful release washed over me and a long forgotten calm settled in my bones.

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