Insult to Injury

by Gun Brooke

  “A challenge?” Gail pushes down her slacks and steps out of them. Sitting on the end of the bed, she strips her socks off as well. “I think we need to tread a bit slowly, considering I’m out of practice and you are—”

  “Clueless.” I close the distance between us. “I might fumble, but I promise to be gentle.” I wink at her, perhaps because I want to defuse potential awkwardness, but I need us to not be too dramatic about this. God knows I have enough drama in my life, and if I let it seep into this room where I’m about to be closer than I ever dreamed possible to Gail…I may end up bolting.

  Gail does chuckle at my lame joke, which is such a relief. Strangely, being able to relax and not just expect to fail at any given moment makes arousal roar through me. It’s so unexpected that I lose my balance and sit down next to Gail with a thud. Luckily on her good side.

  “My, my. Eager, aren’t we?” She raises a deliberate eyebrow at me, and that makes me forget all about being facetious, or dramatic, or anything in between. I get up, move to the side of the bed, and flip the covers down. Sliding up against the pillows, I hold out my arms to Gail, who slowly rises to her feet. As she moves onto the bed, I make sure I have her sore arm taken care of by propping it gently on a pillow.

  “Tell me what to do. What you like.” I kneel next to Gail, devouring her with my gaze.

  “Since you ask, we better remove my tank top before…well, before.” Gail pushes it half off, and I help her with the last part. And then I look…and look. Her skin glimmers in the muted light from the table lamps on the nightstands. Rosy, puckered nipples crown the breasts I touched with such awe while we were on the couch.

  “You can touch me, you know,” Gail says, skimming her fingertips in the valley of her breasts. “As much as you want.”

  I don’t have to be told more than once. Pulling off my tank top, I hope she’ll like what she sees. And I think she does, judging from her flushed cheeks and shiny eyes. I lie down next to her, resting my head in my hand as I need to keep looking at Gail while I touch her. Carefully, I place my hand on her stomach. As I move it in gentle circles, it trembles at my caress.

  “I promise I won’t break.” Gail pushes her hand underneath me and around my back, pulling me closer. “Kiss me?”

  Oh, yes. I find her lips again, and our deep kisses scorch away whatever residual tentativeness remains. I inhale her breath. I taste every part of her mouth and am sure it’s possible to drown in another person. In her.

  Gail

  Romi’s hand moves up to my breasts, hovers for a moment, then cups the one nearest her. My nipples are so hard, they almost hurt. Moaning, I arch up toward the touch, ignoring my sore right shoulder. I won’t allow it to keep me from being close to Romi.

  “You feel amazing,” Romi says, her breath hot against my lips. She pulls her fingertips in slow, nearly-there circles around my nipple. Her touch makes me shiver, and I nip at her lower lip. Punishment for not touching me properly. Yes. “More?” Romi smiles against me, I can feel it.

  “Much more. All of you…with all of me.” I’m so damn horny, but in my red haze, I know it’s because it’s her. It must be Romi. Nobody else will do. She’s everything and, I suppose, my endgame.

  Clearly taking pity on my poor breast, Romi tugs harder on my erect nipple. I cry out, but she reads me right—it’s not about the wrong sort of pain—and keeps it up for a few more seconds. Then she lets go. When she stops kissing me, I’m about to object, but her mouth travels down my neck, licks along my collarbones, and I know where she’s heading. “Yes.” I groan. “Like that. Yes.”

  “Like this?” Running her tongue in circles around my nipple, over and over, she’s obviously set on driving me mad. She blows on the wetness she’s created, and it’s such sweet torture, I grab her short hair in my fist. Only then do I realize I may well be hurting her scalp and ease up, but I still keep her in place.

  “In your mouth…please.” I manage to get the words out, and when Romi’s hot mouth fully pulls my nipple inside, I cry out. Wetness gathers between my legs and drenches my panties. I want them off, but I can’t risk Romi stopping what she’s doing. Then she does just that but moves to the other breast after pushing her arm under my neck. Her free hand strokes from my trembling stomach to the edge of my underwear, and I raise my hips in wordless encouragement.

  Romi’s very perceptive. Pushing her fingers under the elastic band, she places her hand in an oddly protective gesture between my legs.

  “Mmm. So wet.” She hums against my nipple. “Tell me.”

  “Huh?” I can barely think, and my hips rise as I try to get closer to the movements of her hand.

  “What would you like me to do? How do I touch you the best?” Gasping too now, Romi begins to push firmer at my labia, and I part my legs, hooking one between hers. Instantly, she presses against me, and I can tell she’s just as wet.

  “I want to be naked with you.” I hold on to Romi, my arm still around her back. “Can we manage that without letting go, because I don’t think I could bear not to feel you.”

  “We can try.” Romi kisses me lightly and then shoves off her own underwear. She pushes mine down far enough for me to kick my panties off. “Better?”

  “Infinitely.”

  “So, educate me, Gail,” Romi says, her hand back between my legs.

  I pull the leg not entangled with hers again, up and out. “Around my clit, not directly at it. Lightly, for now.”

  “Mmm-hmm.” Clearly a master at taking instructions, Romi touches me better than I can do myself. Her slender, agile fingers paint circles around the ridge of nerves that are already twitching and ready to explode. I tug at Romi to get closer.

  “Careful,” she whispers and kisses my neck. “Your arm.”

  “I’m fine. I want to feel you against me. I need you closer. Romi…”

  Moving up a bit, Romi adds pressure between my legs. She’s driving me crazy, and I need an outlet. I look up and see that if I turn my head more, I can reach one of her nipples with my mouth. I go for it, single-minded and dying to taste her.

  “Ah!” It’s Romi’s turn to arch into my touch. I curl my tongue around her pebbled nipple, then graze it with my teeth, oh so carefully. “Gail…” Perhaps unaware, Romi presses harder against me, and her fingers slide on either side of my clit and then down…and in.

  “Oh, God,” I say, or try to, as I’ve sucked a good part of Romi’s breast into my mouth. “Keep going.”

  Romi is rubbing herself against my thigh that is lodged between her leg, and each movement of her hips drives her fingers farther into me.

  “This…good?” Romi is close to hyperventilating, and in the back of my mind, I realize I need to help her keep from fainting.

  “Yes, just slow down a little bit. Just a little. Curl your fingers up. Like that. Yes. Just like…that.” I start shaking as Romi presses up inside me. “Not long now.”

  Romi moves her hand faster, adding to the pressure. “Like this, Gail? You like it like this?” Her voice is low, husky, and so full of arousal, I’m pushed relentlessly toward the edge. When I get there, I’ll fall, I know it. It’s the place where my last defenses against how I feel about Romi live.

  The sensation of Romi pressing her pubic bone against me, rubbing her soft tuft of hair, coated with wetness, ignites the first tremors inside me. I hold her, lower my hand to her ass, and squeeze it to add more pressure. My heart is beating so fast, I’m sure I’ll faint. I let go of her breast as I need to look at her, truly see her, when she makes me come.

  “So beautiful,” I whisper. Forgetting anything but her, I grow tense as the orgasm builds and builds.

  Romi doesn’t stop or slow down. It’s as if she knows, this miracle of a woman, just what I need, what I want. “So tight,” she murmurs.

  “So close…Ah!” I have to close my eyes. The feelings are too intense, too near pain, as the orgasm tears through me. My nipples are on fire, my abdomen convulses over and over, in a regular, all-consu
ming rhythm, and my clit sends waves of pleasure like ripples on water through me. My toes curl, my thighs lock around her hand, and I can finally open my eyes and let her in—let her see. “God…Romi.” My mouth is so dry, it’s hard to form the words.

  “You’re amazing. So damn sexy,” Romi says, her hips still undulating against me.

  “And you…” I pull at her. “Your turn. Straddle me.”

  Romi pushes up and moves on trembling legs as she places one knee on either side of my hips.

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Romi

  I’m shaking so hard, I have to rest on both hands and knees as I straddle Gail’s sweat-soaked body. The skin of her entire upper body is flushed, tears are blending with beads of sweat at her temples, and she’s never looked more beautiful.

  “Now you have to tell me how to make love to you,” Gail whispers while she runs her hands up and down my sides in a strange, tickling caress that makes my breathing catch.

  “Just don’t stop touching me.” It’s true. As long as her hands are on me, I’m probably going to come embarrassingly quickly.

  “No, no. That won’t do. I want to know.” Gail smiles lazily, she too still out of breath. “For all I know you may want it rough, or you could like it very light. Fast or slow. Direct touch, fingers…or tongue.” She looks at me through her eyelashes, and her gaze is so sexy, I hum.

  “Gail, you’re killing me.” I bend my arms and lick between her breasts.

  “Look who’s talking.” Gail shakes her head as if to clear it. Reaching up, she palms my breasts, alternating between them, and I close my eyes.

  “Look at me, Romi. Please.” Soft and persuasive, Gail’s voice coaxes me to do as she asks. I’m not feeling awkward, that’s not it. I’m just not used to feeling vulnerable in this way. It had never dawned on me that making love leaves you this open emotionally. Not sure if I’ve been naïve or jaded, but I used to view sex as physical, and this is that, of course it is, but it’s so much more. It’s with Gail, whom I adore, whom I love with all my heart…Gail, who still doesn’t know the scope of my shortcomings. My betrayal.

  She slips her hand down between us and combs her fingers through the small tuft of hair between my legs. I ban the negative thoughts, send them back into the secret caverns of my mind, which isn’t difficult. Gail’s hand is creating magic, and I arch my hips forward, needing her touch more than I can express.

  “So, tell me, Romi.” Gail runs a finger along my drenched folds but doesn’t enter. I spread my legs more fully by moving my knees and bend again to kiss her.

  “More,” I manage to say when I release her lips. “My clit. Touch it?”

  “How?” Gail tilts her head and looks down between us. “Like this?” She parts my labia gently, and the intimacy in the way she slides through my wetness, so slow, so deliberate…it makes me tremble.

  “God, you’re hot.” Groaning, Gail circles my clit, but that’s not enough. I seem to be past that stage.

  “More,” I say again, knowing full well that I give lousy directions. “More fingers on my clit.” There. Better.

  “By all means.” Gail turns her hand and accommodates me with several fingers pressed together. She rubs faster and returns her gaze to meet my eyes. “You’re driving me crazy.”

  I’m driving her crazy. That’s insane. She’s the one touching me and guiding me to something I’ve always found so hard, so barely within reach. Now my thighs burn and my nipple aches…and Gail’s the only one who can soothe this agony. Her eyes, blue-black and narrow, pull me in. I take the cue literally and kiss her again. Our tongues dance to the same rhythm that she creates between my legs. I need to touch her even more, and shoving my right arm under her neck again, I lift one of her breasts, tugging gently at the hard nipple.

  Gail breaks the kiss by pushing her head back into the pillow and crying out. It takes me half a second to make sure it’s not from pain. Reassured, I lower my head and suck her other nipple into my mouth.

  “Romi!” Gail’s hips jerk.

  A deep yearning for more rises like a geyser in me, strong and unbending. “Gail…go inside. I need you.”

  “Yes.” Gail positions her fingertips at my opening and slowly enters me.

  I move up a few inches, wanting her to fill me, take me, and reach as far in as possible. I’ve never contemplated this idea before, how the physical connection literally makes two people one. “Fill me more,” I say, groaning as she does. I can’t tell if she’s added one or two fingers, but now it burns just right, and I know I’m going to come in seconds. When I shift to be able to look at Gail again, I can tell she’s ready again. Ready for me to love her, to show her how much she means to me. I shove my hand down past her arm, slide two fingers along her clit, and enter her.

  “Yes, yes, yes…” Gail calls out, squeezing my fingers.

  That’s all it takes. Just as she starts to move her hand back and forth, thrusting into me, I convulse, once, twice, three times…and then I forget to count. I vaguely hear her call out my name while I try to remember to breathe. My clit throbs against the palm of Gail’s hand that is still moving, though slower now. My entire stomach is tight, tight, and some sort of aftershocks are traveling down my thighs and up my spine.

  Looking down at Gail, finally, I see new tears and new sweat beading on her face. She came again. Excellent.

  Slowly, mindful of Gail’s injured arm, I slide to her left and place a pillow half on her shoulder. I gently lie down, and she pulls me closer. Soon I’m going to pull a bedsheet on top of us, but for now, I need to cool off.

  “Damn,” I whisper. “That was intense.”

  Gail chuckles under her breath. “That’s putting it mildly. I say it’s debatable who’s trying to kill whom.”

  “Point taken.” I do feel a bit smug at having helped bring Gail to orgasm twice. Considering that I have only the information in books and magazines to go by, I mean.

  Gail shifts a bit and then presses her lips to my damp temple. “You make me so very happy, Romi.” She caresses my arm.

  Tiny flutters of guilt erupt, and I push at them again, but this time they won’t return to the place in my mind where I can choose to ignore them. I’ve made love with Gail without telling her about what I’ve done, how I’ve spied on her. Yet another deception to stack on top of everything else. I get up onto my elbow, find the covers, and pull them up to our hips. Hiding my face against her neck, I know I need to reciprocate.

  “I’ve never been happier than I am right now.” It’s true, but even I can hear the sadness in my voice.

  “No regrets?” Gail asks, and I can feel her holding her breath.

  “About tonight? No. Never.” Another truth, and this time I manage to sound happier.

  “Good.” Gail nuzzles my hair. “Think you can pull the covers up over me? I don’t want to let go of you to do it myself.”

  I can’t speak since tears clog my throat. Pulling the covers up, I cover her first and then myself. As I snuggle into her neck again, I vow not to sleep a wink all night.

  I simply can’t afford to waste a minute of the time I have with Gail.

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Gail

  The entire morning has been strange, and watching Romi have merely coffee and nothing to eat for breakfast unsettles me. She insisted last night she had no regrets. The fact that we turned to each other twice during the night, making slower, more romantic love again, and a rushed, harder version a few hours later, should be proof of that.

  Yet here she sits, staring into her mug as if it holds answers to some cosmic mystery. I want to ask her again if she is okay, but nagging has never been my style, and I won’t start now. If Romi wants to share something with me, I should give her space and let her do so in her own time.

  What if there won’t be such a time? I’m no stranger to my brain asking me evil, undermining questions, but this time, it’s not a far-fetched concern. If I don’t urge Romi to talk to me now, what if I miss my cha
nce? Procrastinating, I rise, pick up the coffeepot, and pour more for myself. “More coffee?” I ask and groan inwardly at how clipped my words sound.

  “What? Oh. No, thank you.” Romi shakes her head and begins tracing the rim of her mug, one of the brightly colored ones that came with the house.

  I sit down again after replacing the pot into the brewer. “I need to replace those mugs. They can put anyone off coffee.” I try to joke, but my attempt sounds even worse in my ears.

  “Yes. Good idea. They’re pretty bad.” Romi smiles wanly.

  That does it. This is not how I pictured our first morning after. I’ve been through some awkward ones, especially when I was younger, but this is beyond that. I’m actually getting dizzy from being torn between elation and apprehension. “Romi? What’s wrong? And don’t say you’re fine. I can tell you’re not.” My heart is speeding up, and I get goose bumps for all the wrong reasons at the desolate expression in her eyes.

  “All right,” Romi says slowly. “I won’t.”

  I blink. “Won’t what?”

  “Say I’m fine.” Romi rubs a palm along her face. “Guess it’s time.”

  I’m utterly confused, but I only nod, bracing for impact when she clearly has to do the same.

  “Remember I told you I grew up with a distant relative when I lived in East Quay?” Romi hides her hands, and I surmise she presses them in between her thighs. It’s one of her tells.

  I nod again. “Yes.”

  “I haven’t told you that it was in this house. Your house.” The last words come out as a whisper, and she’s beginning to shake.

  I try to wrap my mind around her words. This house? I think back to what my Realtor told me about the seller. The estate of an older woman who passed away—was it a year or so ago? I can’t quite remember.