And then I stilled. Relishing the full feeling of the dildo buried deep. Forcing my breathing to stay calm, even as my body quivered with the mounting pressure.
I pulled it out, then plunged it back in, my pulse spiking again. My pussy clenching around the glass. I began pumping it in and out, moaning at the thickness, and that unrelenting size.
I closed my eyes, picturing Landon on top of me, his arms braced on either side of my head, his skin damp with sweat as he grunted, thrusting into me, burying himself to the hilt. I moaned at the image, reaching up with my free hand and twisting my nipple. Imagining it was him biting it, sucking hard enough to leave a bruise.
Part of me ached with the need of him—another part ached at the loss of him.
My pace quickened, the glass growing wetter, the dildo plunging so deep it almost hurt. My hand moved to my other breast, and I twisted that nipple hard. I wanted Landon more than ever, wanted his hot skin pressed into mine, wanted him to suck on the side of my neck as he forced my legs up higher, as he fucked me harder and harder.
My breathing grew labored, my body got hotter. I plunged the glass in and out, in and out, still twisting my nipple as pleasure hit me, harder and fierce. My pussy clenched around the glass, then again and again, until I felt as if my whole body was shaking.
Only when it stopped did I slip the dildo out of my body, pulling the covers up to my shoulders as my breathing slowed.
And as I drifted off to sleep, I wondered what Landon would think if he’d seen me, if he’d watched me take my own pleasure. Because the thought of watching him take himself in his hand, watching him bring himself to climax, was enough to make me want to find the dildo again, buried somewhere in the sheets.
By the time I hung up my white lab coat the following day, I was worn out—yet somehow energized. It had been months since I’d worked in a lab, and while I was more than a little lost, it also felt like coming home. This was where I was meant to be. This was the version of myself I was happiest being.
The other students had hit the ground running that morning, scattering to various stations and setting to work. Even though I’d read all of the materials on the plane, it didn’t replace the actual orientation the others had taken. It took me most of the day to get to know where all of the supplies were, and figure out how to work the locks on some of the cabinets.
I drifted out of the lab, digging out the bus schedule I’d snagged this morning on my way off the bus. There was a stop two blocks away, but I wasn’t sure how long it would take for the next one to arrive.
I walked down the sidewalk, my bag slung over my shoulder and the schedule unfolded—as big as a map—when someone fell into step beside me.
“Hey. It’s Taryn, right?” he said. I glanced up, taking in the bright blue eyes of one of the other interns. He had floppy, boyish blonde hair, but his height and broad shoulders marked him as being at least my age.
“Yeah. I’m sorry, I didn’t catch--“
“Ben,” he supplied.
“Ben. Right. Hi.” I said, grinning. “Thanks for your help getting that cabinet open today.”
“Sure. You’ll get it down in no time.”
“Thanks,” I said, hoping he was right.
“Some of us are going out tonight. Blow off some steam. Want to join us?”
I blinked, not expecting this, Part of me wanted to just go back to the apartment, take a long hot bath. “Oh, I don’t know--“
“Come on. It’s Friday. Surely you don’t have something better to do?”
I thought of the tiny little apartment I’m supposed to return to. Of the half-strength signal I’d managed to tap into that, if I loaded a Netflix show and then paused it for an hour, I could manage to watch one show before it crapped out.
No, I had nothing better to do.
“Um, I guess not. But I don’t have transportation,” I said, waggling the bus schedule. “How are you guys getting there?”
He held up his key ring. “I can drive you.”
“You rented a car?”
“No, I’m from Arizona. I drove here from home.”
“Oh, okay. Cool.” I folded the schedule back up, shoving it into my bag. “Which way?”
I followed him across the lot, to a not-quite-shiny Chevy SUV. He held the door open for me, and I stepped up onto the running board and then slid into the seat.
He was starting the vehicle and pulling out before he spoke again. “So what school do you go to?”
I opened my mouth, about to explain that I was actually a drop out, then stopped myself. He didn’t need to know that, and I wanted to be peers with these people. I wanted them to take me seriously, not look at me like some pity hire. “Um, University of Washington. You?”
“Arizona State. I was thinking of UW for graduate school. Do you like it?”