Belle Delphine Fingering Herself Novels & Stories

Bella grabbed her coffee and escaped to the backyard, her hands shaking so badly she had to set the mug down. Not yet. As if it was inevitable. As if they were all just waiting for the right moment to cross a line that should never be crossed. She paced the small patio, trying to sort through the tangle in her chest. Guilt. Anger. Confusion. And underneath it all, something she didn't want to name. Want. Her phone buzzed. Unknown Number: Is this Bella Black? She frowned. Yes. Who is this?

"That's none of my business! You should pay my money first or I will also chop your head off!" Felipe's eyes scanned Delilah. She was dressed like a nerdy. It was such an ugly dress. Delilah noticed that Felipe was looking at her disrespectfully. Therefore, she stepped backward. She covered her upper body by lingering with her hands. Felipe smirked mischievously as he grabbed Delilah's hand to drag her into his room.

A gun in his hand , he aim at iris and Delphine's direction determinely. " Oh shit! " Delphine swore under her breathe as she urge Iris who was stunned to see a gun aimed at her way. The two Ladies continue, trying to survive but just as fate would have it. Nature take it's course on Delphine when a shot rang out again, sweeping pass Iris and then hit Delphine just by her stomach.

"I need to take some measurements and it might be easier without an audience." My mother flutters and fusses but eventually retreats to the waiting area, leaving me alone in the private fitting room with Delphine and my twelve-thousand-dollar lie. "Step down," Delphine says, offering her hand to help me off the platform. "Let's get you out of this and take a proper look." Her fingers are cool against mine. She's older than me - maybe forty, forty-five - with dark hair shot through with silver, pulled back in a low ponytail.

DAPHNE ======= His mouth was warm. Slick. Insanely wet. His tongue rolled around my left? Right? I didn't know but it curled around one of my nipples, whilst his finger pinched the other. I arched, pushing my nipples deeper into his mouth. Another sinful moan slipped from my lips. I pushed my fingers into his scalp, clutching his hair tightly, like it was the only thing keeping me sane. Maybe it was. I felt his teeth pressed against my nipple grinding them as he sucked. “ Fuckkkkk…” I rasped, my voice so loud it surprised me.

Her eyes were a strange color of icy gray, framed by thick lashes, with a long gray hair that flowed over her shoulders like liquid silk. She didn't move. Didn't glance at me. I wondered if she was even breathing. I blinked. Was she even real? She wore all black. Black tight fitted jeans, black ankle boots, and black leather jacket. The only visible skin was her white face. An antique reverse cross hung from her neck, which I found odd, and a Sapphire ring was fitted into her index finger. Everything about her was odd. She seemed like someone who didn't belong to this age. I swallowed.

Her question hangs in the air like a whimsical melody. Taking a deep breath, I inhale her perfume, hairspray, and presence. It’s a concoction I could easily grow accustomed to. “It’s springtime in New York. The possibilities are limitless.” Although I don’t want to do it, I take a step back and allow her to pass. Before she does, she leaves one last chaste kiss on my cheek. Our fingers graze one another’s as she gives me a final smile over her shoulder and heads into the ladies’ room.

Not curious. Eager. The magic here was ancient, hungry, and attuned to want. And right now, it wanted what I wanted. It felt what I felt. And that made it infinitely more dangerous. Delphine leaned in, just slightly, her lips parting with the softest intake of breath. She didn’t speak. She didn’t pull away. Her eyes—storm grey and blazing—stayed locked on mine like she could see straight through to the moment I nearly kissed her.

She was pressing his head tight to her chest mewling and needy for more. Delfina was flushed and sweating as he tugged her dress upwards to bunch around her waist. She let go of his head to slip her fingers between them to undo his belt buckle and then the button and zipper of his trousers. Her hands slid into his briefs and a visceral moan left her lips at the girth in her grasp. He was big. Bigger than she’d experienced and a short, momentary lapse in her insanity got her questioning if he’d fit but then he was pushing the thin string of her thong panties to the side plunging his fingers inside her and all coherent thought was gone.

Naomi looked up, then down at her plate, then back at the stage—and smiled, tentative and true. Delphine drifted toward the alley like a woman who had remembered she left the oven on, and not because she saw a shadow detach from the transformer pole. She didn’t run. She didn’t tip her hand. She simply arrived in the mouth of the alley at the same time as a man in cuffed trousers and slick shoes finished writing something on a clipboard that no city insignia had asked for. “Evenin’,” Delphine said, sweet as a blade. “You lost?”