So I'm sitting there the other night having an argument with my Sam muse when Eric bursts in, waving this piece around and ranting about how I could have been so heartless to leave it out of the original post. He wouldn't leave me to work with Sam again until I posted this. So, here it is, the lost 'chapter', a continuation of glass.

Again, I own nothing save for glass, leather, and pearls, and I'm not making any money (yet) with those either.


So I'm boiling a glass sex toy in my Gran's sauce pan. I have to giggle. Bill's not around tonight so I've taken an extra long bath, shaved my legs, piled on the lotion, and am now standing in nothing but an apron, bending over the steaming pot. Like a witch's brew. I giggle again and check the clock. Five minutes are up. With a pair of tongs I lift it from the water and turn the stove off. I set the glass rod down on a dish towel and wait for it to cool off more. That's when I glance at the freezer.

Popsicle, huh?

Up in my room now, a few candles lit, covers pulled back to the end of the bed. The apron has been discarded and I'm waiting for the glass to come back up in temperature a bit – I guess I left it too long and it came out with frost on it. I lay back on the sheets, naked. What exactly is the type of girl who would wear panties to bed, Eric Northman? He's…

My fingers absently stroke my nipples and my eyes flutter shut, brining his face to the fore. I swallow, thickly, because I know that I can almost feel him touching me and I want it. So I slide a little further up the pillows, imagine him there before me, standing right at the end of my bed.

Sookie, he'd say. I want you to touch yourself. The way you want me to touch you. And he would say please.

My thighs are already trembling as my knees fall open. He cocks his head, murmurs at the sight of me, Så söt och skär. All för jag. I shudder at the reality of it because I know damn well I don't know Swedish but I know what he says. Pretty. Pink. All for him.

I nod, my eyes still closed, Eric still standing before me, watching me with that heated gaze he gets. Then my fingers are moving, one hand dropping between my thighs and I pretend to hear him groan at that. My other hand travels from one breast to the other, gently pulling at my nipples, making me cry out softly into the stillness of the house. I'm wet, borderline soaking, my thumb slides easily to find my clit and I circle it once…twice…

go like this…and the image of him standing before me at the shop, curling his fingers just so and then I've plunged two fingers into myself, gasping at the intrusion, wishing they were his. With a twist of my wrist, I feel it. Feel that spot, that sought after spot that Bill may have glanced once or twice but…oh my, it was not like this. I do see stars – white and blue and pink and purple and hot cold. Toes are curling. I tense my muscles.

breathe…I gasp, shaking and a sob tears from my throat. I've never made that sound, never so wanton and begging…touch your clit…and I obey him, moaning so loud, so low, I bite my lip at the sound. And he moans with me.

His name slips out from my lips in a breath before I can stop it but then I'm soaring on a wave, gasping, starting to shake and shudder. I rub harder. Faster. He watches, completely turned on. His fangs have dropped. I fell like…oh…I feel like I'm gonna… I grunt, press harder, chasing that end. So close. So fucking close. My hips buck.

your hips bucking

My back arches.

your back arching

Let it go Sookie, I plead with myself. Oh hell what is this and why does it feel so good and sweet and I'm so close so close so close almost there harder harder yes more faster gonna gonna gonna…

Gonna what?

I bought you that for a reason Sookie

Fantasy Eric is gazing at me, somewhat disappointed, and I remember the blue glass and I smirk. The initial pain of the stalled orgasm is ebbing nicely in my blood and I reach for the toy with the hand that had been at my breasts.

I settle further back, spreading my legs wider, tossing my hair across my breasts, half hiding them. Eric chuckles. I think he likes to be teased a little. Not given everything at once.

But he'll take without asking.

So I trail the tip – still cold, frigid from the freezer – across my lips, glancing it with my tongue and shivering at the cold there. Down my neck between my breasts and then rubbing over each nipple until they're red, standing hard and aching.

Yes. I do think about sex. A lot. I've come to find that I rather like it. Like the idea of being so…wanton and utterly sexy. He frees me; frees my mind and fuels my inhibition.

The cold glass glances off my clit, sliding down between wetness and warmth and lush folds of my sex. I hiss, the sensation is unravelling my will, and my hips bounce as my eyes close and I find Eric there, in my mind, watching, his hand gently stroking an impressive erection as he watches me.

"That's it," he sighs. He nods his encouragement and licks his lips. The rounded tip of cold glass slides home and my toes curl with a gasp and a shudder. I bite my lip sharply and let the glass slip from me, only to push back deeper, at a sharper angle. This time I sobbed harshly, my other hand falling directly to my clit.

I pump faster, heaving a cry and throwing my head back. My spine arches, my fingertips slip slip slide over and over my clit, barely touching, the nerves screaming. My thighs shake. I hear him growl, hear him mutter dirty things pretty pussy being fucked so well for me. My effort is doubled, my hand is a blur, and I'm trying to reach oblivion.

My breath is faster, heavier, panting, a name aching behind my lips, clawing at my throat, wanting out and into the air and real – "Eric!" I gasp! It's sharp and my stomach drops as my hips buck sharply and I'm coming. Hard. Shaking. Massive. And I whine his name, pant it, moan it, over and over again as my thighs clamp on my hand, my pussy throbs, my teeth are clenched. Satisfied. My hand is slick. I smile.