Can't Get Enough by Harper Bliss

Author:Harper Bliss
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Ladylit

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Olivia slipped one hand between her hot skin and the sheet. She tried to hold on to the remnants of the dream she just woke from. A faceless woman with a pleading voice repeating the words over and over again, “Yes? Can I? Yes? Can I?” She attempted to block out the early morning sunlight by screwing her eyes shut, stubbornly ignoring the beginning of a new day alone, but she was unable to find the feverish state of half-dreaming and half-waking again. The woman was gone and so was her spell on Olivia.

Her fingers reached the part of her belly where nerves seemed to multiply, the first step on that straight path to a bliss she’d been denied for too long. She tried stroking herself, tentatively but with plenty of purpose. With two fingers she pulled her lips apart, the sudden exposure of her pussy to a rush of morning air covering her in goosebumps. She wanted to come, she needed the quick release, but the prospect of another almost mechanical and passionless climax hardly enticed her to continue. She sighed, her usual stop sign, but just in case, mentally checked her excitement levels. The string of fantasies she was used to relying on seemed buried too deep inside her mind. Imagination wasn’t cutting it anymore. She needed some real life experience, an event so exhilarating its memory could effortlessly feed her orgasms for months to come.

* * *

Véronique had disappeared four months ago, leaving Olivia’s bed cold and empty. She’d just gone, back to Bordeaux or wherever it was she came from—that particular piece of information had always remained vague between them, as if it needed to be kept secret for their transient affair to work.

“I am unattached,” Véronique would say, her words English but the sounds unmistakably French. “I’ll stay for a while, but not forever.”

She stayed for two years, certainly long enough for Olivia to get attached to her unattachedness. Véro drifted in and out of her life, sometimes lingering for days on end. Days filled with smoking cigarettes while hanging out of the window of Olivia’s fourth floor flat on the Rue Madame. Olivia clung to Véro’s irrationality and all the parts of her she couldn’t tie down. Maybe it wasn’t love—at least not the kind Olivia had thought she was after—but it sure had a close resemblance to it. The way it hurt when Véro walked out of the door, usually on a Sunday night well past midnight, and Olivia could tell, just by the way Véro held herself, that she wouldn’t see her lover for days, maybe even weeks. Until one last Sunday four months ago when Véronique had curved her neck so her lips couldn’t be closer to Olivia’s ear and said, “Je t’aime.” Not something you would expect unattached people to say.

Olivia had roamed the city throughout winter, a messy wet season in Paris. She’d braved the cold and stuck her head in cafés she’d otherwise avoid, in search of Véronique.

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