Last Salute

by Tracey Richardson

  Trish spoke softly. “I’m not anyone’s property to take or own.”

  “I know. I’m sorry. Bad choice of words. I was afraid I was only in love with you because Laura had been in love with you, and that’s not fair to you or to me.”

  “Laura gave up on me a long, long time ago. She couldn’t commit to me or to anyone. Is that the way you want to be too?”

  No, Pam wanted to shout. She was not like Laura in that respect. She would never give up on someone she loved. “I was also afraid,” Pam continued, “that you might only be loving me because I reminded you of Laura. That if you couldn’t have her, then at least you could have me.”

  A wry smile twitched on Trish’s full lips. “Like you’re the consolation prize?”

  “Something like that.”

  The smile disappeared and the clouds rolled in. “When are you going to start believing how wonderful you are? How deserving, how loving, how giving, how good and decent you are? When are you going to start believing that it’s you I want? It’s you I always should have wanted, not Laura.”

  Pam expelled a short laugh. “Except you would have been thrown in jail.”

  Trish rolled her eyes. “You know what I mean. God, Pam, it’s you who will be the last thought in my head when I die. It’s you I’ll always feel I was meant to be with. And if you decide…” She blinked hard, visibly swallowed once, twice. “If you decide you don’t want me…or if anything happens to you…you will always be my greatest loss, not Laura.”

  The force of Trish’s words pushed Pam back a step. They took a moment to register, like a stone sinking slowly, steadily, to the bottom of a lake, finally landing with a hard, final thud.

  “Are you sure it’s me you want?” Pam said it more to herself than to Trish, as though she still couldn’t quite believe it.

  “Yes,” Trish said, stepping up to her. “You were the one I was waiting for all this time, Pam. You. I made a mistake with Laura. I realize that now.”

  Tears pricked at Pam’s eyes. Someone—no, not just someone, Trish—wanted her, had always wanted her. Her! Not her brash, brave, dashing, adventurous, handsome, smart, athletic, charming older sister.

  Trish touched her lips to Pam’s for an instant. “Are you sure about all of this?”

  Pam returned the quick kiss. A wave of heat had begun sweeping up her body. She felt fevered. “Am I sure of what?”

  “Me.”

  “Oh yes.” She felt Trish’s arms move around her, felt her hands loosely drawing circles on her back. Heat flashed hard and deep through her. “Yes, I’m most definitely sure.”

  Trish’s lips pressed softly against her neck, her throat. Oh, God. Pam closed her eyes, feverish in the glow of Trish’s touch. Trish’s lips moved north, to the underside of Pam’s jaw, and her tongue flicked out, tracing the outline of Pam’s lips. Oh, God.

  “Do you want me?” Trish said quietly, breathlessly.

  The vibration of her lips against Pam’s ratcheted her heat up another dozen degrees. “God, yes.”

  Trish wound her fingers through Pam’s hair, then pulled her head closer and kissed her hard, deeply and with a surprising urgency. They were both breathing hard, both kissing with a level of desperation and hunger Pam had never known before. Her skin, her lips, were on fire. Her hands itched and burned to touch Trish’s bare skin, which she imagined to be cool and impossibly soft.

  “How much?” Trish whispered.

  Pam’s mind labored to decipher the words. “How much what?”

  Trish kissed her again. Their mouths fought a battle of complete conquest—pressing, occupying, exploring, remembering. Oh how sweet is victory, Pam thought. Defeat too. Hell, one was as good as the other in this case. She wanted to take and be taken, receive as much as give.

  “How much,” Trish said between searing kisses, “do you want me?”

  Oh, Jesus. How much do I want you? Is there a way to describe how much? No, she decided, there wasn’t, because she wanted her as much as she wanted to breathe, as much as she wanted to live. She’d wanted her this way for a long time, but now it meant everything, because Trish wanted her too. “I’m not going to tell you.”

  Trish pulled back and looked at her quizzically.

  “Nope,” Pam said, suddenly scooping Trish off her feet. “Not telling you.”

  Trish squealed, threw her head back and laughed as Pam carried her the few feet to one of the beds. “Showing me, then?”

  Pam deposited her on the small bed, stood and looked down at her for a long moment, wanting to savor this dark-haired beauty who looked up at her with desire, with love, with a chest heaving and straining against a tight shirt, the top two buttons undone, inviting her, tempting her. Oh, God, Pam thought again. I want you so much, Trish Tomlinson. So much it hurts.

  She fell to her knees, reached over and brushed Trish’s wavy hair from her forehead. “I will never,” she said, looking deeply into Trish’s eyes, “want another woman the way I want you. You are the only woman I’ve wanted, who touches me to my very core, whose love and friendship gives my whole life meaning. And…” She rose up slowly, climbed on the bed beside Trish and leaned over her until her face was mere inches from that luscious cleavage. She breathed Trish in, licked her lips teasingly. “I’ve never wanted to rip the clothes off a woman the way I do you.” She let her eyes wander over every inch of Trish’s body. “God. The way I want to kiss and taste and suck every inch of your body. The way I want to make you tremble and shake all over. The way I want you to cry out my name and beg for more.” She smiled at Trish. “And a few other things along the way.”

  Trish gasped. Pressed her legs together. “God, you’re killing me, Pam.”

  “Oh no. The torture’s only just begun.” She moved her palm to the flat of Trish’s stomach, felt it quiver in anticipation. That gorgeous chest heaved harder too, and Pam couldn’t wait to get her first real look at those full breasts, her first real touch. They looked like perfect round sculptures, stiff peaks where her nipples rose majestically, and Pam imagined them almost melting inside the velvety warmth of her mouth.

  Shit, she thought. Now I’m the one who needs to press my legs together before my clit explodes.

  “You’re not…” Trish pushed up on to her elbows, breathing hard, her brown eyes nearly opaque with lust.

  “Not what, sweetheart?” Pam whispered, stretching out and pressing her body against the length of Trish’s.

  “Not.” Trish spread her legs, allowing space for Pam’s hips to settle. “Not going to stop, are you?”

  Pam smiled, feeling a little evil. “Do you want me to?”

  Trish’s eyes widened. “God, no!”

  “You want me to make love to you.” It was a statement, not a question. As an exclamation mark, Pam reached inside Trish’s shirt to stroke her stomach. It was taut and quivered in response, like harp strings vibrating against the plucking of expert fingers.

  Trish nodded twice, squeezed her eyes shut. Her chest rose and fell quickly, the middle button of her shirt—the next one down that was still closed—nearly popping under the strain. Her nipples looked so damned tight, hard as nails. Pam needed to touch them, and automatically her hand slid to the clothed, soft underside of Trish’s breast.

  “How much?” Pam said, turning up the heat, the torture. Her thumb brushed against the edge of Trish’s nipple, and her whole body twitched at the simple touch.

  “Oh, God. How much what?”

  This time Pam’s thumb began to draw circles around the base of Trish’s nipple. Harder, then faster. “How much do you want me to make love to you?”

  Trish moaned, moved her hands toward the buttons of her shirt in an attempt to expose her breasts. Pam caught her hands, halted them. “Oh no you don’t. Not until you tell me.”

  “Jesus,” Trish said, her eyes narrow slits, her mouth fighting for air. “I’m going to fucking die, right here, right now, if you don’t make love to me, Pamela Wright. Do you understand me? You’re killing me,
baby. Killing me. I need you to make me come. I need you to make me come so bad, it hurts.”

  Pam smiled, pushed Trish’s hands against the thin mattress, and roughly popped the remaining buttons.

  “Oh, God, yes,” Trish said, arching her back to give Pam better access to her breasts.

  Pam didn’t need the hint. She asked and was given permission to remove the necklace with Laura’s ring on it. Next, she pulled at Trish’s bra, but it wasn’t budging. The clasp was somewhere in the back. Dammit! She didn’t have time to screw around with it, so she tore the bra, ripped it right down the middle. And oh, how it was worth it! Freed, Trish’s breasts rose up toward her, straining for Pam’s touch. Pam dipped her face into the soft valley between them, closed her eyes, breathed in the earthy, floral scent of Trish’s skin, felt Trish’s hands in her hair, pressing. Like jail wardens, Trish’s hands were not about to let Pam’s mouth her stray from her chest. Not yet. Not until she got what she wanted, and oh, how Pam was going to give her what she wanted.

  Pam’s mouth claimed a breast—sucking, licking, devouring, sucking again. With her right hand she cupped the fullness and pushed it deeper into her mouth, heard Trish moan in response. Her tongue sprang into action. Stiffly, precisely, quickly, she licked the hardened nipple, flicked her tongue hard against it, felt Trish’s fingers dig into her scalp, felt Trish’s body heave against her. She sucked again, stroked with her tongue, sucked, nipped with her teeth, stroked and sucked some more.

  “I’ve never,” Trish said between gulps of air, “wanted…anyone…so…very much. Oh, Jesus…I want you, Pam.”

  Pam stopped to look into Trish’s eyes, wanting to be sure she heard correctly. “Not anyone?” Not even Laura?

  Trish thrashed her head from side to side. “God, no. Not anyone. Never like this.”

  Pam felt her clit stiffen, felt herself become impossibly wet and turned on. “Oh, darling. I love you so much.”

  “I love you too,” Trish blurted out before pushing Pam’s head back to her breasts.

  Priorities, Pam thought with a chuckle. She took turns with each breast, lovingly, hungrily, suckling them, cupping them, stroking them with her tongue and her fingers. She loved the fullness of them, how they were both firm and soft at the same time. Much more interesting than her own small breasts, she decided. She could spend all day making love to these breasts, but there was more to explore. Much more to love.

  She trailed her tongue, her lips down Trish’s stomach, stopping to kiss the soft skin there. Trish’s hands were still tangled in her hair, and it wasn’t long before they were urging her further south. Pam was happy to oblige, but first she needed to get those canvas cargo shorts off of her. Her hand dove between Trish’s legs, cupped her firmly. A little teasing before getting down to bare skin, she thought with a streak of mischief.

  “Oh!” Trish gasped.

  Pam grinned, feeling naughty. She increased the pressure from her hand, palmed Trish in a circular pattern. Trish’s legs began to buck and her hips tried to levitate off the bed. She didn’t want her coming like this, through her shorts. No. She wanted her to come in her mouth.

  “Wait,” Pam commanded, desperately pulling at the button and zipper of Trish’s shorts.

  Trish’s hips were still undulating. She’d moved a hand to her mouth to clamp down on it with her teeth, probably to keep from screaming out past the thin, cheap plywood walls.

  Urgently, Pam pulled Trish’s shorts and damp panties from her hips and down her legs, then settled herself between Trish’s legs. “God, you’re beautiful, sweetheart.”

  Trish pushed her hips off the bed, trying to close the gap between herself and Pam’s mouth. “Please, Pam,” she mumbled. “I need your mouth on me.”

  Pam’s own desire raced through her with hurricane-like force. She would have to fight not to come while making love to Trish, she knew, because she wanted Trish’s touch bringing her to orgasm. She pressed her mouth to Trish’s engorged clit, felt Trish jerk against her in response. Oh, yes, she thought. So ready. Gently she took Trish into her mouth, sucking her lightly. Too much pressure and Trish would come instantly, she knew, so for as long as she could she kept it low and slow. Light and tight. But Trish was so wet, so hard, that she knew it wouldn’t be long. Trish’s hands began pushing against the back of her head, signaling more was needed. Pam pressed her mouth harder against her, stroked her hard and deep with her tongue. Faster and faster too, until Trish’s hips gyrated against her and Trish’s hands mashed her face harder against her. Oh, she could do this forever, she thought deliciously. Consume, devour Trish. Even when Trish trembled and cried out sharply, her body flailing in orgasm, Pam continued to press her mouth against her, continued her loving ministrations. She slipped a finger inside and instantly felt Trish tighten around it.

  “Oh, God,” Trish cried as the orgasm continued to rip through her. “Oh! Yes, please don’t leave yet,” she commanded just as Pam was about to pull out of her.

  “Never. I’ll never leave you.”

  She stayed inside Trish, one finger, then two, moving them ever so slowly. She marveled at being inside this woman she loved and had loved for more than half of her life. Making love with her was much more than she’d ever expected, ever dreamed or fantasized about. Making love was an extension of her love for Trish, a deepening of it. And none of it would have meant a damn thing if Trish hadn’t looked at her the way she did now with so much love in her eyes. Sex was nothing without love, and Pam realized now how empty and one-dimensional her past sexual experiences had been and how she’d never want to make love with anyone other than Trish again for the rest of her life. No. She was home now.

  She crawled up the length of Trish, still inside her, and kissed her tenderly on the lips. “I love you, sweetheart. You were wonderful. You’re everything I could ever ask for in a woman. In a lover. In the love of my life.”

  Trish’s eyes instantly moistened. Her smile faltered.

  “It’s okay,” Pam soothed. “You don’t have to talk right now.”

  “No.” Trish cleared her throat as a tear shimmered in her eye. “You need to know right now. This feels so right. So wonderful. I couldn’t love you any more than I do right now.”

  Pam slipped her fingers out of Trish and hugged her tightly. They lay silently for several minutes in each other’s arms, the sweat from their skin intermingling. The room’s overworked air conditioner barely kept it below eighty degrees.

  “Darling,” Trish said after a few moments. She rolled them both over until she was on top of Pam. “There’s a problem here.”

  “There is?” Pam had grown groggy from the adrenaline and exertion of sex.

  “Yes. You still have your clothes on.”

  Pam smiled lazily. “There’s a solution to that.”

  “Damn right there is.” Trish smiled wickedly, then began pulling Pam’s US Army T-shirt from the waistband of her shorts.

  Pam quickly re-energized. She hauled the shirt over her head, then yanked off her sports bra. Trish’s eyes lit up as she surveyed Pam’s breasts, shoulders and neck.

  “So beautiful,” she murmured. But her eyes didn’t feast for long before she got busy pulling at Pam’s belt and zipper, then sliding her shorts down her long legs. Pam reached down and started to remove her underwear, but Trish stopped her.

  “No. I want you to leave your underwear on for now.”

  “Seriously?” Pam couldn’t decide between being intrigued or disappointed by the request.

  “I want to prolong some of my explorations. Like taking your time with a really great meal instead of gobbling it up.” Her grin was carnivorous.

  Pam’s heart beat harder. She could already picture Trish’s head between her legs, Trish’s mouth bringing her exquisite pleasure. Yes, she thought, let me be the meal you devour slowly. Just not too slowly!

  She threw her head back against the pillow as Trish’s tongue began circling her nipple. She felt paralyzed beneath Trish’s touch, like hel
pless prey, but in the most pleasurable way imaginable. She would do anything Trish wanted, would let Trish do anything she wanted to do to her, because in this moment, she felt entirely at one with Trish. It was consummate pleasure, complete love.

  Pam easily lost track of time, had no idea how long Trish had been going down on her when she felt her orgasm gather in her toes and shoot straight up her legs in rumbling, powerful waves. She rocked with them, gyrating into Trish, reaching for more, for every last drop of pleasure. Colors and indefinable shapes flew past her vision, and while she wasn’t a religious person, she felt almost at one with everything that was beautiful in the world at this cresting of physical and emotional pleasure.

  “Oh, sweetheart,” she said breathlessly as she pulled Trish up beside her. “God, I love you. That was incredible.”

  Trish chuckled softly against her shoulder.

  “What?” Pam smiled but kept her eyes closed, reliving every last second of pleasure she’d just felt.

  “I was thinking. They say new sex gets better with time, but if it gets any better than this, I think I might not survive it.”

  “Hmm, that’s exactly my conclusion too. But we could die trying.”

  “Yes.” Trish snuggled closer. “We could.”

  Pam felt her body slacken with exhaustion and happiness. She’d just made love with the only woman she’d ever really loved, something she’d had no right to think would ever happen. But it had. And marvelously so. She wondered, as sleep beckoned, whether she should feel guilty. Whether they should feel like they’d somehow betrayed Laura by making love and professing their love for one another. By wanting to be together. No, she decided without a shadow of hesitation. Nothing this right, this perfect, could be wrong.

  Chapter Twenty

  Dusk was deepening into night when they finally emerged from their tiny room, Trish joking that they should hang a sign on it—The Love Shack.

  “Aren’t you hungry?” Pam asked.

  “Nah.” Trish leaned against Pam, took her hand and affectionately squeezed it. “I don’t care if I ever eat again.”