Dry Spell Vi Keeland ~ Page 1

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Sex.

Three simple letters.

A myriad of complications.

I was ready to have sex. And not just sex. Clawing, scratching, biting, pull my hair hard, sweat till we"re slippery, all night marathon sex. Was that too much to ask for"

It had been way too long.

Way, way too long.

The kind of dry spell that left me scratching my head trying to remember the last time I"d even been with a man.

A year"

Could it really be that long"

No wonder I was finally taking matters into my own hands. Well, actually, I"d taken matters into my own hands for far too long in that department. Now it was time someone else"s hands got involved. Although a hand was not nearly enough to quell the craving I had.

I needed a man.

A full, thick, rock hard, grab me by the hair and fuck me against the wall, night with a man.

I just hoped Evan Little was the right man for the job. More than that, I hoped I would soon find out his last name was ironic, rather than an aptly titled prelude.

Evan had taken me out five times. We"d met on opposite sides of the courtroom. After two weeks of arguing over a high profile case, the sparks burning so hot, I thought for sure the dapper district attorney would nail me to the wall when we stepped into the elevator alone at the end of the trial.

But he was a gentleman. Instead he shook my hand, congratulated me, and asked me out to dinner. It had been six weeks since the first date. Weeks filled with expensive dinners, nice conversation, and all the makings of a chivalrous courtship we could someday tell our grandchildren about.

It was sweet. But all chivalry and no sex makes Evan a dull boy. And keeps Ava buying the mega pack of batteries on sale at Target.

I just didn"t get it. I"d even went back to his place the last few times after dinner"in hopes of a little dessert. But nothing. A perfect gentleman. Even when the banging and groans started again on the other side of the wall in his apartment, he continued chatting away about crimes of moral turpitude. Apparently, Evan wasn"t as affected as I was listening to the noisy neighbor shake the walls. The sound of that breathy grunt made me cross and re-cross my legs a few times to calm the swell between my legs.

Since it was clear Evan wasn"t taking my subtle hints, I decided it was time for a more direct approach. It was two thousand and eighteen, not nineteen fifty-two anymore. Why should I sit at home and wait for a man to take the lead" I was a woman of the millennium, for God"s sake. I owned a vibrator. I used the word fuck in casual conversation with as much flare as any man. My nightstand was well stocked with condoms. I am woman, hear me roar.

Pep talk complete, I parked my brand new Mercedes and stepped into the cool night air in front of Evan"s tall apartment building. It was an unusually chilly evening for Boston in June, which helped to make the raincoat I was wearing slightly less conspicuous.

The clock showed 11:52 pm, I was a few minutes early, still eight minutes to go until Evan"s twenty-ninth birthday. But the elevator in his pre-war high-rise was often slow, and I was undeniably anxious.

Fastening the belt on my black full length Burberry coat, I looked up at Evan"s apartment from the street. Corner apartment, top floor. His bedroom light was still on.

A surge of adrenaline shot through my veins as I thought about what Evan might do when I let my coat slip seductively from my shoulders. I"d chosen black lace purposefully, since tonight I was playing the aggressor. Normally, I"d prefer something more girly and soft, but tonight I looked like what I was"the vixen.

The black lace corset barely contained my voluptuous breasts, the matching G-string bottom left even less to the imagination. Thigh high black stockings, with garters and five-inch stilettos, took the outfit from sexy to sinful. I"d even gone the extra mile and done my hair and makeup over the top"blowing my thick blonde hair upside down to get maximum body and applying an extra coat of dark mascara that made my pale blue eyes even more startling than usual.

At the ripe young age of only twenty-eight, at work I was the boss. I"d started my own firm right out of law school. Five years later, fourteen men and women called my firm home. I loved being in charge at the office; I couldn"t even imagine it any other way. But in the bedroom I"d always preferred a strong man that took control. Surrendering to the wanton desires of a lover somehow gave me balance.

Unfortunately, I"d run out of patience with Evan. I was hoping that my surprise visit, donning a birthday present I hoped he would enjoy unwrapping, might give him a hint to leave his perfunctory manners at the door.

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