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Calling Cupid

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I gasped, dropping the vial and spilling the rich scent onto my chest. I darted back to my desk and bounced onto the seat, heart pounding and a flush starting to bloom across my skin. Proving I was more than some girl Hugh Young used to date was all I thought about—and my non-existent orgasm. I snorted to myself—Single and desperate for an orgasm.

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I stabbed the elevator button and waited. I trailed my fingers down to my thigh. Cupid had an orgy and shot his glitter spunk all over it—that was the only description for what I was seeing. Was it the oil? Cicada Restaurant formerly Rex Il Ristorante. I gasped, dropping the vial and spilling the rich scent onto my chest.

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. 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. 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. Didn't you go to lunch?

Keeping my sticky fingers hidden. Just hit my knee. 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. I'm heading to lunch now. I slumped into the chair, blowing out a relieved puff of air.

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. Hold the stone close to your heart and say: I call on thee to inspire what mine heart doth truly desire. I didn't need some cheap gimmick to tell me what I desired 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. Those same coils that taunted me with unfulfilled promises tightened low in my belly again.

But it was different this time, more urgent. I grabbed the small note and flipped it over. Effect will expire as you gain desire. My lit twitched, daring me to speak the words. Roman probably put it in there for a laugh. My clit twitched, pleading, desperate to try anything. I snorted and tossed the card back into the box. 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. 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. 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 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. I left my phone in my office. 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. I sucked in a breath, "I'm sorry, what? 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? 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. 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. A Prohibition-era speakeasy in its past life, the venue makes a cameo appearance during a scene with Gordon Gekko Michael Douglas and Bud Fox Charlie Sheen , where Gekko recommends the steak tartare.

If this old-school New Jersey diner is good enough to close out the hit HBO series, then you know it has some street cred. While the shop is known for its candy, milkshakes, and ice cream, make sure to save room for an order of the onion rings.

Quentin Tarantino chose to film two crucial sequences starring Melanie Laurent, Christoph Waltz, Daniel Bruhl, and a seemingly innocent plate of apple strudel in his movie at this real-life Parisian bistro. At this hidden gem in the 18th arrondissement, what you see on screen is what you get. From the spotted mirrors and stained glass to the Belle Epoque staircase, it retains its old-fashioned charm and still draws in the locals.

Three decades later, the famous scene still lives on inside the real San Diego watering hole in which it was filmed. Just remember to bring your wingman or woman. You probably recognize the green awning exterior of this famed steakhouse. Remember that hilarious scene when Robin Williams unsuccessfully alternates between playing Daniel Hillard for a business meeting and Mrs. Well, now you can re-live the action sans cayenne pepper CPR fiasco, hopefully in the same restaurant where it all went down.

Located in Danville, California, culinary mastermind Kevin Gin helms the kitchen, serving up dishes like the stir-fried Mexican prawns with Thai red curry sauce, cremini mushrooms, toasted peanuts, and crispy noodle cake. Alisha Prakash April 28, Katz's Delicatessen This year-old Kosher-style deli may be the site of Meg Ryan's famous fake orgasm scene in Rob Reiner's rom-com, but it also happens to be the place where you can find the best and biggest hand-carved pastrami sandwiches in New York City.

Cicada Restaurant formerly Rex Il Ristorante One of the most memorable moments in this Garry Marshall flick unfolds in a restaurant where Julia Roberts flings a snail across the room during an important business dinner.

Serendipity 3 This New York City eatery is as well-known for its role in the romantic comedy as it is for its famous Frrrozen Hot Chocolate, a decadent brain-freeze-inducing treat shared by Jonathan John Cusack and Sara Kate Beckinsale.

The Bluebird Cafe Made famous by the country music drama starring Connie Britton and Hayden Panettiere this Nashville club and restaurant is a must-visit. Bistrot La Renaissance Quentin Tarantino chose to film two crucial sequences starring Melanie Laurent, Christoph Waltz, Daniel Bruhl, and a seemingly innocent plate of apple strudel in his movie at this real-life Parisian bistro.

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Cicada Restaurant formerly Rex Il Ristorante. The heat that flushed beneath my skin intensified and the coils threatened to break.

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Skin touched skin, and my nostrils flared. I hissed and arched my back, desperately yelp matchmaking services that he would. My breast swelled until servicez lungs felt heavy and the air thick. Rock Star ex-boyfriends were popular news topics. Roman probably put it in there for a laugh. I didn't care how ugly my sex face was.