Novels by Precious

The thunderstorm returned on the day I had him take his shirt off.It arrived in the late afternoon, turning the sky the color of wet slate and driving the last of the staff out of the building the moment the final bell rang. I watched the parking lot empty from my window, counting the cars as they left until only two remained: mine and his. The rain came down hard enough to blur the glass. I left the overhead lights off and switched on the old brass desk lamp I usually kept for show. Its warm circle of light made the rest of the office feel farther away than it was.He knocked once, then opened the door when I called. Water darkened the shoulders of his jacket. He carried no folders this time, no props. Just himself and a careful expression that tried to look neutral and failed.“You’re soaked,” I said.“I forgot an umbrella. It started while I was still in the classroom.”I nodded toward the coat rack near the door. “Hang it up. Then come here.”He did as he was told, movements prec

Sarah’s fingers slid lower when I pressed her hand. She found me still wet and open, and the quiet sound she made against my shoulder was almost a laugh.“Still?”“Yeah.”She turned onto her side, propped on one elbow, and watched my face while two fingers pushed inside. Slow. Testing. I exhaled through my nose and let my knees fall open wider.“You’re sore.”“I know.”“Want me to stop?”I shook my head once. Sarah kissed the corner of my mouth, then reached over to the nightstand. A drawer opened. Plastic clicked. She came back with a slim vibrator, the kind that fit in one hand. She didn’t ask again. She simply switched it on. The low buzz filled the quiet room.She settled between my legs, cock already hard again, and rubbed the head through my folds until I lifted to meet it. When she pushed in this time the stretch burned sharper than before. I gritted my teeth. Sarah paused halfway.“Breathe.”“I’m trying.”She waited, one hand steady on my hip, the other resting the vibrator ag

Sarah’s bedroom was dim and uncluttered. A wide bed with dark sheets. One low lamp casting a warm circle across the floor. She led me inside and closed the door with her foot. The click of the latch sounded ordinary. Everything about the moment felt anything but.She kissed me again before I could speak. This time there was no careful testing. Her mouth was open and sure, tongue sliding against mine, one hand already under the back of my sweater. The heat of her palm on my bare skin made my breath catch. I answered the kiss with equal force, fingers curling into the soft fabric of her t-shirt.Sarah walked me backward until the backs of my knees hit the mattress. Instead of letting me fall she bent, hooked an arm under my thighs, and lifted me clean off the floor. The strength of it surprised a short sound out of me. She was solid and steady, carrying my weight without strain. Two steps and she set me down on the bed, following immediately so her body covered mine.The mattress dipped

The car smelled like her.Cedar and clean soap and the faint trace of what we had done still clung to the upholstery. I sat in the passenger seat with my hands folded in my lap, staring straight ahead through the windshield while the city slid past in ordinary daylight. Sarah drove the same way she had on the way to the salon: steady, quiet, one hand on the wheel. She did not turn on the radio.My body still throbbed. Between my legs I felt the residual stretch, the slick heat that had nothing to do with the dress I now wore again. Every shift of my hips reminded me of the mirror, the cool glass against my breasts, the thick length of her pushing into me while her hand covered my mouth. The memory arrived in sharp, unwanted flashes. I pressed my thighs together and tried to make it stop.Guilt settled over everything like a second skin.I had cheated on Mark. Not with a stranger in a bar. Not with some half-forgotten ex. With his sister. In a bridal fitting room, two months before our

The curtain whispered shut behind Elise, leaving only the low hum of the salon’s air conditioning and the soft glow of the vanity bulbs.Sarah didn’t move away. She stayed close enough that the heat of her body reached me through the open back of the dress. Her fingers still rested at the base of the zipper, two cool points against my skin.“You’re shaking,” she said.I wasn’t cold. The fitting room was warm, almost too warm, the air thick with the scent of new fabric and the cedar note that clung to her sweater. I watched our reflections in the three-way mirror—my bare shoulders, the ivory satin pooled at my hips, Sarah standing behind me in black, her expression unreadable.She drew the zipper the rest of the way down. The dress loosened and slid. I caught it against my chest, holding the fabric in place. Sarah’s hands settled on my waist, steadying the fall of the skirt until it dropped to the carpet in a soft heap. I stood in only a strapless bra and simple panties, the mirror sho

I was two months from walking down the aisle and my friends cancelled on the dress appointment with less than three hours’ notice.One had a work emergency. One had a sick kid. The third simply stopped answering her phone. I sat on the edge of the bed in the apartment I already shared with Mark, staring at the confirmation email from the bridal salon, and felt the familiar tight knot of disappointment settle under my ribs. Mark was at the office. When I called him he sounded genuinely sorry, then hesitated.“My sister’s free today,” he said. “Sarah. She’s been asking if she can help with anything. I can text her.”Sarah.I had met her only four times since Mark and I got engaged. She was thirty, two years older than him, quiet in groups, with a dry sense of humour that appeared only when she felt safe. Mark had once mentioned, almost casually, that she was bisexual and that it had caused a few tense Christmases when they were younger. I had filed the information away and never thought