Amanda Good

The steam from the espresso machine hissed in the background as I wiped down the Starbucks counter for the umpteenth time that afternoon.

My body still throbbed with the dull ache from last night's disaster with my ex-boyfriend—his clumsy thrusts that barely grazed my clit, leaving me frustrated and untouched, my pussy clenching around nothing but disappointment.

At 24, I craved something real, something that would make my skin flush and my nipples harden with genuine want. But here I was, in my green apron, forcing a smile for the endless line of caffeine addicts, my slender frame hidden under the uniform that did nothing to hide my soft curves.

The door chimed, and she walked in. A stunning blonde in her mid-30s, her piercing blue eyes scanning the menu board with effortless poise. My heart slammed against my ribs the moment I saw her—flawless skin glowing under the fluorescent lights, full lips curved in a subtle, knowing smile.

She moved like liquid silk, her hips swaying gently in fitted jeans that hugged the curve of her ass, her blouse dipping just low enough to hint at the swell of her breasts.

I froze, my hands gripping the edge of the counter, heat pooling low in my belly as I imagined those elegant fingers tracing my thighs instead of reaching for her phone.

She stepped up to the counter, and I swallowed hard, trying to steady my breathing. Up close, she was even more intoxicating—her perfume a faint, musky floral that made my mouth water, stirring thoughts of burying my face in her neck and inhaling deeply.

'What can I get for you?' I managed, my voice coming out breathier than intended, my cheeks burning as I met her gaze. Those eyes locked onto mine, sharp and inviting, like they could see right through my shy facade to the hunger twisting inside me.