by Mia Jae
“Then maybe you’ve not had the right experience.”
Hmpht. The bag went over my shoulder and I moved toward the door. “And you’re my right experience, Vanessa?”
I faced the door by now and paused with my hand on the knob. My back was to her. No response came from behind me. I stared at the door for several seconds before turning her way.
She stood tall and unmoving, her gaze now hooked into mine. “That depends on you, Lyric.”
Me. Why in the fuck was it up to me?
* * * *
Sleep was the one thing I needed and the last thing that was coming to me. I contemplated bourbon and decided against it. I had a lot of work to finish tomorrow, and a hangover would not be in my best interest.
Even a hot, steamy shower didn’t help. It only provoked me wanting to touch myself and think of Vanessa and her body rubbing all over mine. Of washing each other’s hair, sluicing shampoo bubbles over our bodies, of me fondling her breasts, feeling the weight of them in my hands. Of our hipbones touching in gentle persuasion and our hands exploring over flesh and into forbidden crevices.
Wrapping the Kimono around me after drying off, I released my hair from the clip holding it up. Glancing into the mirror, I fluffed the length and picked at a few damp, curly tendrils about my face. Pausing, I peered deep into my eyes, searching for something.
Truth?
Admittance? Wonder?
Acceptance?
That I, indeed, felt happier and more complete in the past few days after having the experiences with Vanessa than I’d ever felt in my life? Even though confusion wracked through me?
Time. Perhaps that’s all I need. Time.
Would she wait for me?
Sooner or later, I’ll get frustrated and find other prey.
No.
No.
Terror gripped at my chest. No. I didn’t want her to find other prey. I wanted her.
Racing toward my purse, I grasped it and jerked out my cell, scrolling through the numbers. Even though I had never called her, I had all the office staff stored. Work purposes, you know. I found hers and punched the key.
Please.
Please.
Ringing. Ringing. Voice mail.
Dammit.
“Vanessa. Vanessa, it’s Lyric. I… I need to talk to you. I need…you. Please call.”
I held the phone in my hand, not entirely willing to turn the thing off, to break the one connection I had with her at the moment. Finally, I did. Then in anguish, and along with a deep-seated gnawing in the pit of my stomach, I tossed it on the sofa.
Too late?
What if I am too late?
I sat. Folded my arms around me. Held that gnawing inside. Felt the pain all too deep.
Too. Damned. Deep.
My body shook, and I rocked back and forth. I couldn’t lose her. I couldn’t. I…
The knock on my door came soft and low. I almost didn’t hear it. Had it not been for Callie and Torti jerking toward the sound, I might not have.
“Not in the mood for guests.” I almost didn’t go to the door.
But something. Something…
I raced to my entryway and opened the door.
Vanessa.
Without words, she crossed the threshold. Moved closer. And took me in her arms.
She held me and caressed my hair and face for several minutes. I felt content, cared for, loved, maybe… It was then I made a firm decision. It was now or never. The prey was caught.
Pulling away from her warmth, I grasped her hand and led her into my bedroom.
My silk Kimono fell to the floor, landing in a fluid puddle.
I was hesitant, unsure. Shy. Unlike me when having sex. Of course, I suppose I could liken this to my first time. A virgin. Giddiness swept over me and I giggled.
Vanessa smiled. “Why are you laughing, Lyric?”
“My first time. A virgin again.”
She slipped out of her heels. Her hands went to my shoulders and her lips to my ear. “Remember, Lyric, that things get better and better after the first time. Relax, my love.”
My love.
Reaching for the placket of her shirt, I slowly began unbuttoning. Breath after breath escaped my lips, even and methodical. One button. Two. Lower.
Pulled the blouse out of her skirt. Let it fall off her shoulders.
Looked into her face.
She wore a slight grin.
I smoothed my hands over her soft shoulders. Nice.
Her lips caressed my cheek, whispering over my skin like a warm Gulf breeze. We nuzzled each other’s cheeks and the soft spots between chin and neck. Our lips played a game of hit and miss, scraping feather-like touches over mouths and noses, dodging and teasing, until we fully embraced and locked into a heated, passionate kiss.
Peeling the clothing from her body, I was eager to feel her heated skin next to mine.
We fell into my bed and my body trilled with our closeness, legs intertwined, breasts hugging breasts. Vanessa’s hands worked over my body, and mine hers. We played each other as if we’d played this tune before. Her kisses filling me with desire, blooming up inside of me, pushing forward with an explosion of petals and heated scent, like none I’d ever experienced.
We rolled and laughed, touched and explored with wonder.
I found myself smiling all too much.
Until the heat took over.
Until the passion filled us and claimed our souls and bodies. Until probing fingers and lapping tongues tasted of each other in all possible places. Until our pussies were soaked and slick, our bodies damp with the sheen of satisfied sex and wracked with writhing and wanton obsession.
We lay for quite a while, bodies engaged and limbs entwined, soaking up the ambiance and savoring the sweet, silent bliss.
Content. Sated.
Vanessa twisted in my embrace and took my face into her hands. Her eyes bore deep into my soul. “You are fantastic,” she whispered.
I love her. I knew it right then. I love the way her lips move when she speaks. I love the way she makes me feel inside, and I love how she feels in the palms of my hands.
I am ready. “Where do we go from here, Vanessa?”
She raked her thumb over my lips, lowering her gaze to watch the action. I followed her eyes and for a split second and saw a hint of vulnerability there. “That, my little pussy cat, is entirely up to you,” she said.
Smiling inwardly, I knew at that moment that she was as frightened as I was. It’s scary to love someone so much when you don't know they love you back. No matter what your gender or that of your lover. For all of Vanessa’s subtle assertiveness, she was as vulnerable as me in that respect.
“I love you, Vanessa,” I breathed.
Her gaze jerked up and met mine. A tear slipped from the corner of her eye.
Pornography is about dominance. Erotica is about mutuality. ~Gloria Steinem
Plumb Me
The temperature hit a hundred degrees thirty minutes earlier, the air saturated with humidity. Jack Brogan had worked through the morning on a busted water line in front of a row of posh condos on Lake Front Drive
. Sweat poured off him, and, finally, he stood and peeled away his sopping shirt, mopped his brow with a sleeve, and tossed it aside.
He was tan enough, wouldn’t get a burn. Was used to working outside like this, but damn today was a scorcher. Bending, he picked up his shovel and slid the iron cover back over the small hole where he’d turned the water back on to the unit in front of him.
He had just reached down to give the cover a final shove when a scarlet-toed foot, bound in black leather straps and a four-inch spike for a heel, assertively placed itself square on the cover.
From his vantage point, Jack had a eyeful of toes, delicate ankle, thin calf, and on up to a smooth, tanned thigh and a black skirt that barely covered a crotch that he was pretty certain was…well, bare.
His perusal didn’t go any further. The woman pushed a sweating glass of
ice water toward him, and even though he was thirsty as hell, all he could think about was those long fingers wrapped around his cock, stroking like they caressed that slick glass of water.
Rising, he took the tumbler and looked the woman square in the eyes. Blue. Christ. He was a sucker for blue. Raven hair, too. A denim shirt was open at her chest, leaving very little to the imagination. Lifting the glass to his lips, he held her gaze and drank, draining it.
He handed it back. “Thanks.”
“There is more in the house,” she told him, then turned and walked back toward her condo, her hips hitching right and left with each step she took, the empty glass dangling from her fingertips. The skirt barely covered her ass.
Hell, it didn’t cover it.
She stopped and looked back over her shoulder. “The name’s Janet, if you want to know.”
He did. She strode on, hips swaying some sort of invitation. He was pretty sure he knew what.
On some level, he understood that outfit wasn’t everyday wear for this woman. Not in this neighborhood. But oh, what thoughts it conjured in his head…
He watched, contemplated. She never looked back.
His gut tightened, and his heart raced. Hesitating for only a moment, he slowly strode toward the condo. As he approached, he noticed the door stood slightly ajar. As he took the last two steps onto the small porch, he moved forward, glanced behind him and then pushed in the door. Once in, he quietly twisted the deadbolt behind him.
At the click, she stepped out of the kitchen, two glasses in her hand this time. One definitely water. The other, a shorter glass, swirled with an amber liquid.
“The shower’s in there.” She cocked her head toward his left. “Better drink this first.”
He did as she suggested.
“The water will get cold soon if you don’t go now.” She stared at him. “Plumbing’s bad here.”
He thought that strange and then realized she was talking about the shower. He looked that way again. Yes, there was steam coming from the room.
“I’ll wait.” She took a swallow of the amber liquid in her glass, and he found himself mesmerized by the movement in her throat as she did so.
He tore his gaze away and found the shower. In no time, he had stripped and left his dirty work clothes in a pile on her bathroom floor. The shower was full of her body lotions, washes and frilly puffs and such. Damn but he always felt strange in a woman’s shower. He didn’t plan to stay here long, however…
The door swung open and before he could protest (fuck, would he really protest?) the woman, now stripped down to her red toenails, stepped inside. She still held the tumbler of bourbon or scotch or whatever, some droplets of water peppering the glass. Finally, she tipped it to her lips and swallowed the remaining liquid. Again, he was mesmerized by her swallowing action.
She set the glass away on a shelf. All the while, her eyes never dropped contact with his.
She was all breasts up top. Obviously manufactured, but oh, did those mounds of flesh tempt him. Tits to die for, round globes with dark brown nipples, probably bought and paid for. Small nipples that were peaked and firm. Tan all over. Legs long like her fingers. Water sluiced over her, skimming and teasing. He wanted to be a droplet, clinging to her. Her waist nipped in sharply at her sides beneath her ample chest. Her hips flared with a sexy contour. His palms itched to smooth themselves over her ass.
He reached for her.
She batted his hand away.
Puzzled, he cocked his head and tried again. Higher, this time, aiming for a breast.
She slapped it away. Her gaze, still locked with his, never faltered.
For a moment, they stood and stared.
“My shower,” she said. “I call the shots.”
Interesting.
Then she reached out but not toward him. She found a tube of something among the bottles on the shelf. She squeezed out a palmful and moved toward him. He could sense it, see it out of the corner of his eye. And then her small hand with the long piano fingers folded around his engorged cock.
The lube, soap, or whatever it was, felt icy against the steam of the shower.
“Stand still.”
Her caress was killing him, and suddenly, she put more pressure on his cock as she squeezed. His head fell back, and his eyes started to close. “Yeah, sweetheart.”
“Don’t talk,” she spat out.
He opened one eye to look at her, but she now had her attention on his cock…with both hands. Shit. She fell to her knees and pushed him back against the shower wall. Water fell over him, rinsing away the liquid, and over her back and shoulders where the stream landed. Her hair hung wet around her face; rivulets streamed down the crack of her ass. Her hands splayed his hips against the shower wall.
She buried his cock in her face.
Jack grasped a shower bar. Her tongue circled him inside her mouth. She sucked, and her velvet cheeks massaged. She drove deeper until his cock (not small by any means) was tickling her tonsils, and she took him. All of him. And all he could do was grasp that raven hair and tangle it in his fingers and force her head closer.
She broke away, rage in her eyes and stood. His dick throbbed, needing her mouth again. Goddamn but he wanted to explode in her mouth, watch her swallow him, suck him until he spilled down her throat. He started to say something then thought better of it.
The woman leaned back then against the opposite side of the shower. “I told you not to talk. Now you have to watch.”
She propped one leg up on a bench to her left. For the first time, he got a good look at her crotch. Shaved. She was that. Bare as a baby’s ass. Her fingers went there, parted her lips. She tucked one in between and slowly slid it in and out.
Shit, he could watch. No fucking problem.
Her gaze was on his face, he could sense it. His was glued to her long middle finger dipping in and out of her pussy.
His hand went to his dick, started a slow stroke.
“Don’t do that,” she panted. His gaze jerked back up to hers. “I mean it,” she continued. “Do not touch yourself.”
Goddamn. What was she out to do? Drive him friggin’ nuts?
He dropped his hand.
“Watch me. Look at my pussy.”
He didn’t have to be told twice.
She arched forward. The foot on the shelf rolled up to the ball of her foot, causing her legs to spread a little wider. Her manicured fingers, two of them now, circled over her clit. She shivered a bit and moaned.
“There. Get that.” She dipped her head toward the shelf. “The knobby pink one with the bunny ears.”
Her fingers kept working her clit, and her eyes were heavy-lidded. He found the vibrator. She leaned heavily into the wall.
“Do it,” she told him.
Hell, he didn’t want to make a mistake. What did she want?
“Now.”
He hesitated.
“Inside you or on your clit.”
She grasped his hand and twisted the vibrator to turn it on. “Do it.”
Hell, he’d risk it. The device buzzed in his hand. He leaned closer, positioned the tip of the pink phallus over her clit then slid it downward between her lips.
She shuddered and grasped his bicep. “Shit. Shit… Inside.”
He braced himself with a hand on the shower wall over her shoulder, and she arched toward him. With one hand, she spread herself open more and he slipped the vibrator up her cunt, then out, then in.
Her thigh trembled. He rubbed his engorged cock against her leg.
“Shit.” She pushed the bunny vibrator out of her and his hand and tossed it on the shower floor. “On your knees. Now. Eat me.”
He was only too happy to oblige but feared she might smack him upside…
“Ummm…” Her fingers were back on her clit, doing overtime as she flicked a now swollen bud and slipped occasionally in and out of her hole. “Do you not know how to follow an order?”
“No, ma’am. I mean, yes, ma’a
m.”
“Dammit. Eat me.”
Jack lowered to the shower floor.
She curled her fingers in his hair and pulled his face toward her pussy.
Fuck, wet and musky, he could smell her sweetness as he pushed her hand aside with his mouth, flicked his tongue over her clit and covered her cunt with his mouth. He slipped between her lips, tongued her hole and rubbed his upper lip over her rock hard bud.
She groaned and wrapped the propped leg around his head and he burrowed in, chin deep in her snatch, lukewarm water bouncing off his ass. She bucked and scratched his scalp and screamed as the water turned cold in the shower.
“Imbecile of a plumber,” she wheezed out, collapsing against him. “Get me the hell out of here.”
He did. Lifting her. Moving into the bedroom. Laying her wet and dripping on the bed. “Finish what you started.”
Jack lunged toward her hot and wet pussy and lapped at her juices. In seconds, she jerked up off the bed with an explosive orgasm.
Then just as quick, she rolled over and put her ass in the air.
“Take it, plumber man. Fix my plumbing.”
And oh, he did all right. Plumbed her right up to the rim of his cock and then some, ramming it home with some insane sense of need and aching release, until she was dripping inside as much as outside. Her denial had caused his pent up discharge to explode with excruciating gratification. It seemed he had only taken half a dozen long and deliberate strokes into her hot and sweet body before he’d lost it.
He collapsed over her and for a long, sweet moment, lay skin to skin with her, her searing curves against his hard planes.
One small, sweet moment.
“Go.” She squirmed under him and turned while he lifted himself up on an elbow. Her gaze shot back and forth from the bedroom door to him.
“Excuse me?”
“Now,” she whispered. “Go.”
“When can we…?”
She jerked her head back and forth. “Don’t talk. Just go. Now.”
His gaze lingered, raked over her body. Damn, he hated to leave, but she was right. He didn’t belong here. This was a onetime event. A chance quickie. And he was definitely out of his element on this side of town.
He rose, and her gaze followed him as he grabbed his work clothes off the adjoining bathroom floor. He dressed quickly while she pushed up off the bed and moved away without a backward glance. The last thing he saw was her ass hitching right and then left as she entered the bathroom.
