Daniel wasn't home when she arrived, but his car was still parked in the driveway when she pulled in beside him, garage door rumbling as it sealed their vehicles in for the night. After a few minutes of searching the vacant house she felt her determination wane.
There had to be a reason he had not taken her yet, and it couldn't be simply because he believed torture to be akin to sexual gratification. Perhaps sober, the thought of her entirely undressed wasn't as appealing to him. It wasn't appealing to her, which is why she so often preferred fantasy to reality. Which is why she hadn't slept with a man in nearly two years.
Yet in a matter of days Daniel had made her ache, a constant pooling of desire evident in her panties. Had she wanted to take them off and throw them at him while screaming this was his fault? Yes.
Had he gotten her to pleasure him orally in her very office? Yes.
Would he keep pushing her limits? Was she allowed to push his?
A sharp knock at her back patio door shattered any hope she might have clung to about finding release this evening with Daniel. She shouldn't even want to find it with him, it could only lead to disaster. If things went south work would become a mess, she'd lose her home, and the people she called family would slowly wither away from her as Daniel would.
Sleeping with him wasn't an option.
Sliding the glass back, Mina looked at her neighbor, a grey haired woman with an equally grey haired husband. She adored them, a reflection of what she wanted when she was their age.
"You coming across the way?" She asked and Mina gave her a quizzical look which prompted her neighbor to explain, "To the cookout, dear, Daniel's already over there. The whole block nearly is, and then some. Didn't Daniel tell you about it?"
"Must have slipped his mind."
Mina quickly kicked off her heels and slid on a pair of sandals before following her neighbor down a twisted path through seagrass and onto her bustling patio alight with mingling guests, passed drinks, and the smoke from the grill which filled the air with a thick haze like fog rolling in.
Through it all she saw him.
Daniel had an elbow leaned against the rail as if his worries from this morning had dissipated. A lazy grin was on his face and amusement behind his eyes as a lean woman in a sheer sundress laughed and reached across to touch her hand to his.
There was no jealousy, only a sinking disappointment that he would have that woman tonight instead of her. He was easy enough to look at with his sturdy built and stubbled jaw. The saying about confidence inspiring attraction was constructed out of the English language just for him.
His eyes flickered to her, yet before she could see him return his attention to the woman, Mina turned from him and mingled. Had she not, maybe she would have akwanledge how that intensity from earlier was matched in their gaze, unspoken tension growing thicker as they ignored each other.
It wasn't until the sun had sank that her mind gave into him once more, the party having spread out along the beach like a tide. As if an anchor, the woman had hooked herself into Daniel's side, warning up to him as they stood around a roasting fire.
He didn't get to play with her. She wasn't an amusement for him. If he wanted to play at this, he would play to the end or not at all. Mina's fervor acted like a drunken state of mind, the beat of her heart a toxin making her breath catch as she decided she would only go to bed after Daniel had been in it.
Swaying up to him she tried his confidence on, the attitude a bit stifling. "Look at who is mingling after sunset. You may not know this, but there are rumors circulating that the great Daniel Reed is part of the undead."
Her hand went to his back, the pressure light.
The woman wrinkled her gaze and took a slight step back. "The undead, huh, what happens if you stay up until sun up?"
"I can tell you from personal experience, it's not pleasant seeing him during the daylight hours," Mina answered and felt the muscles in his back twitch.
"And you are?" The woman asked.
"Go on, Dan, who am I?"
"If I am the undead then she is my Van Helsing. Will you excuse us," he said clipped, his own arm going around her shoulders like dead weight as he pulled his arm from the woman and marched down the beach. "What are you doing?"
"Flirting."
"You're terrible at it."
"I know," she grinned and things felt normal for a moment until his large hands wrapped around her waist and he licked his lips like he was to devour her.
"I didn't tell you earlier, but you look really good today. Pink suits you."
"Then you'd love my panties."
His hands constricted, a breath leaving his chest.
"Would I?"
"They are pink," she purred and managed to feel sexy saying it. She filled them out more robustly than the woman he'd been speaking with. "Want to see?"
"What an offer."
Mina let her hands touch his as she moved them down her body, hiking up her skirt only enough to slip her hands under. She didn't reveal herself to him, instead hooked her fingers along the elastic and pulled them down her legs, the scent of her womanhood plumed around them, mixing with the salty sea air.
She gathered them in her hand, making sure when she handed them to him that the wettest part smothered his palm.
Stepping back she gave him cheshire smile - she wasn't faking it. "Enjoy your night," she said smoothly and turned in the direction of their house.
Her heart was racing by the time she climbed the steps to the patio, the crassness of her act making her question herself. How lude had she been to give Daniel a pair of her used panties? How wet were her thighs thinking of how she had left him stunned...
Gasping as hands fell on her, turning her into a strong build, her parted lips were soon covered by Daniel's as he pressed her into the sliding glass door. With any more intensity he would have shattered it.
Her arms looped around his neck, straining on her very tiptoes to keep pressed to him, tongue franetic against his as they fumbled through the initials throws. She felt his hand balled at the small of her back as it clutched her panties, the other under her skirt immediately, hand curving around her bare ass to pull her in tight.
She clawed at his shirt, finding a way under to smooth her palms up his back. Giving in and letting miniscule moans rise up from her throat.
Reluctantly the hand around her behind left to slide the door open as he swept her further into their house, a parade of lust as they lifted off items of clothing and dropped them to the floor in a path carved inward through the dark house.
Her skin exposed, pale even in the dark, soft under his hands. Breasts fell from their keep, silky and round, only the tiny pink nipples perky. A hand of his took the weight of a breast into his palm, locating the pebbled nipple and giving it a pinch and tug. She drew her lips from his to cry out. They were so sensitive and yearning to feel the hotness of his mouth around him.
"My room," she tugged at him.
"What's wrong with mine."
"I don't have time to list off the reasons," she panted and pressed her lips past the stubble of his chin to his neck. He complied so easily after that, pacing backwards until they ran into her door jam.
A soft oomph rolled off her tongue, fingers digging into his back as he trapped her, needy fingers on the zipper of her skirt. When he couldn't undo it he nearly shoved the material up, fingers between her thick thighs as he found her wet lips.
"The hottest thing," he muttered, biting her earlobe before he faced her, forehead against her own. "Is when when a woman is soaked and you've not even touched her yet."
