When Neta was fully dressed she looked in the mirror. She slowly spun around in a circle, looking over her shoulders at her reflection. Hell no, she thought, there�s no way I�m wearing this outfit.
The shirt was nice. It was black, long sleeved, and form fitting. It went down to just above her navel. The back was a different thing. It was shredded beyond belief. It fell it tatters along her back, only a few stitches holding it together. She faced the mirror and bit her lip. She smoothed her hands down the front of the short purple and black plaid skirt. She ran her hands down the back and thought, Damn Lance. The fucking thing was so short it barely covered her ass.
Short wasn�t even the right word. This skirt made short look long. This thing was a fucking scarf wrapped around her hips in a cheap imitation of a skirt.
There was so fucking way she was going to wear this in public.
Lance knocked at the door. �You ok in there?�
She opened the door wide enough to peek out and glared at him. �No, I am not ok.�
Lance smirked. �Need me to come in there and give you a hand.�
�No! I�ll be out in a minute, anyways. We�re not getting this.�
�Why not?�
�It�s too short,� she hissed.
He smirked. �Let me see.�
�No.� He made a grab for the door and she pulled back. �You are not coming in here.�
�Oh, yes I am,� he replied.
He grabbed the door. She struggled but her hand slipped and the door fell open. She backed up to let him in, muttering obscenities under her breath, and turned around to glare at him. Lance�s eyebrows shot up and he looked her slowly up and down. He motioned for her to turn around and she did, frowning. They were not going to get this.
�Fuck,� whispered Lance, voice low and coarse.
Then again, she thought.
�It�s too short,� she argued.
�It�s perfect.�
�Lance, there�s no way on earth that I�m wearing this out in public.�
�No one ever said anything about wearing it in public,� he replied. She quirked an eyebrow at him and he smiled. �A nice,� he licked his lips, looking her up and down again, �private viewing would be fine with me.�
Neta grinned. �Yeah?�
�Yeah,� he repeated, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling until her back was flush to his chest. He set his chin on her shoulder, rubbing his whiskers over bare skin, and whispered, �Besides, you promised me that if I wore that kilt the true Scottish way that I could pick out any outfit I wanted for you to wear.�
�Yeah, but I didn�t�� her words were cut short when he placed a finger over her lips.
�Didn�t you?� he asked, voice stern. She nodded and he grinned, eyes twinkling with mirth.
He let his finger trail down her chin, along her neck, and down the front of her shirt, stopping to caress the patch of skin showing. He placed his palm flat against her tummy and began rubbing in soft circles. Neta�s eyes fluttered shut and he chuckled, low and soft in her ear.
�You know what�s so great about this skirt,� he whispered. She shook her head and he let his hand wander further down. He stole his hand up and under the material, gripped her upper thigh between strong fingers, and said. �Easy access.�
She gasped, eyes snapping open, and hissed, �Lance, we can�t.�
�Why not?� he asked, voice teasing.
�Because,� she whispered, �there are people here.�
�The only people I see are you and I,� he answered, finger trailing up and down her thigh.
�You know damn well what I mean,� she hissed, glaring at him in the mirror.
�Heh,� he chuckled in her ear, voice throaty and deep. He licked the side of her neck and suckled on her skin. He nibbled up to her ear and whispered, �Don�t tell me you don�t want to.�
He bumped his hips forward, his erection pressing into the small of her back, and groaned softly against her neck. She gripped his jean-clad thighs and moaned softly, �Lance, please��
�Please what?� he asked. He licked the whorl of her ear just as his finger skimmed the line of her panties. �Please yes or please no.�
�Yes,� she breathed.
He smiled against her neck in triumph. He nipped at the hidden spot behind her ear and she cried out. �Shh,� he whispered. �You have to be quiet. Can you do that for me, Neta?�
She nodded and he kissed the side of her neck as his finger slipped under the elastic of her panties. She fisted her hands in his jeans and bit her lip hard as his finger ran teasingly up and down her slick folds. The digit slipped inside just a bit, testing the slickness, before coming up to rub softly against her clit.
�Damn,� Lance breathed, his breath hot against her ear.
She whimpered softly when two slender fingers slid into her, rubbing at her walls. Someone knocked at the door and she jumped, forcing his fingers in deeper and she had to bit down hard to suppress the moan rising in the back of her throat.
�Everything ok in there?�
�Yeah, everything�s fine,� answered Lance, smirking at Neta in the mirror. �I�m just helping her with the ties on the shirt.�
It was silent for a moment before the voice answered, sounding as if she didn�t believe him, �Ok. Just let me know if you need anything.�
When she was sure that the lady was gone, Neta glared at Lance and hissed, �Evil bastard.�
He crooked his fingers and pushed in deeper, thumb coming up to rub against her clit. Her head fell back against his shoulder as she took a deep, shuddering breath. He kissed her cheek and smirked. �What was that?�
She looked at him from underneath her lashes, his emerald eyes gazing back intently, and began panting as his thumb slowly began circling her clit softly, changing directions every so often. He spread his legs a little wider and pulled her tighter against him, erection pressed against the small of her back. He bit down gently against the end of her jaw and flicked his tongue out to lap the offended skin.
His eyes slowly scanned her body. Her cheeks were flushed, and her mouth was parted just enough for her tongue to dart out to wet her lips. Her nipples stood out against the tight shirt and her chest heaved up and down with every intake of breath.
When he looked lower he cursed softly under his breath. Due to the short length of the skirt and the way she leaned back against him, he could see his fingers pumping in and out, slick with her wetness.
�So fucking wet,� he growled.
She gasped and her grip tightened. Her thighs began shaking with tension and she struggled to breath. They locked eyes as he pressed his thumb down onto her clit and she made a desperate noise in the back of her throat. His fingers pulled out to pluck at the swollen nub and she struggled to keep eye contact.
He thrust his fingers back inside and she gripped him tightly. He closed his eyes and pressed his face against her neck, muffling the soft groan. �So damn tight.�
Neta fisted her hands tighter at his thighs as his fingers began thrusting faster, the tips barely brushing up against the spot. He pushed his fingers deeper, thumb pressing hard against her clit, and her legs gave out.
Lance�s grip around her waist tightened, keeping her from falling, and he whispered huskily, �Zayditx za mnoy.� He nuzzled his nose into her cheek and breathed, �Come for me, Neta.�
Her eyes squeezed shut as she threw her head back, gasping for breath. Her slick walls spasmed around his fingers and she cried out sharply as she came, lights bursting before her eyes. His fingers worked slowly until every last wave flowed through her body. His other hand rubbed soothing circles over her stomach, and he pressed his face against her neck, whispering endearments she couldn't understand that burned through her.
When she was still and could finally open her eyes, he pulled his fingers from her body, raised them to his mouth, and lapped at them. He stared at her intently and one by one he sucked the digits into his mouth until they were clean. �Ocheiv horosho,� he whispered.
Russian Translation: 'Zayditx za mnoy' means 'Come for me'
'Ocheiv horosho' means 'Tastes Good'