"Uh huh," Honor said, suddenly sounding shy.
"How... how long... when?" Quinn rose slowly to her feet, holding Honor gently. "How long have you known?"
"Just today."
"You're sure? I mean... you checked?"
"I didn't say anything earlier because I wanted to test it twice. The second time was just now when I was in the bathroom." She smiled hugely. "I'm pregnant. I can tell."
Quinn briefly closed her eyes. "God. God, Honor sweetheart, that is so..." she framed Honor's face and kissed her deeply, carefully. Then she whispered, "I'm so happy."
"So am I." Honor grasped the bottom of Quinn's T-shirt and dragged it up her torso. "Get this off. I'm happy and really, really horny. God, I need you to finish what you started a minute ago."
Quinn glanced at the bed, then back at Honor, suddenly looking uncertain. "Maybe we should wait?"
Honor's eyebrows rose. "For what?"
"Just to be sure everything is okay."
"Baby, I'm pregnant, not sick." Honor popped the button on Quinn's shorts and unzipped her fly. She pushed the khakis down over Quinn's hips, catching her underwear along with them.
"Out of these."
Quinn stepped free. "I know you're not sick, but, you know, maybe we should take it easy."
"Okay. We can take it easy." Honor grabbed Quinn's hand and dragged her toward the bed. "We'll lie very, very still while you make me come until I scream."
Quinn groaned. "Easy will be hard. I'm already half ready to go, and you know when I get turned on I... forget myself."
"Stop talking. I want the other half of you going, too." Honor wrapped her arms around Quinn and fell backward onto the bed, yanking Quinn down with her.
"Jesus!" Quinn caught herself with both arms extended, her rigid body stretched over Honor's. Their breasts and bellies touched. "You said easy!"
"Lie down, baby, please." Honor let her fingers travel through the warm, damp curls at the base of Quinn's belly, and when she found her already hard and throbbing, she groaned. "Oh, look at you. You're a lot more than half ready." She grasped Quinn's clit delicately with two fingers, squeezing just hard enough to make Quinn groan. "Quinn?"
"Unnh," Quinn croaked, collapsing onto her side facing Honor. Her eyes didn't focus, and she blinked rapidly to clear her vision. "What?"
"You may be able to wait," she whispered, trapping Quinn's leg between her own and pressing herself hard against the taut muscle of Quinn's thigh. "But I can't."
Honor licked Quinn's neck and slowly slid her fingertips up and down the length of her clitoris. She was immediately rewarded with a quickening in Quinn's already rapid breathing and her own breath caught in her throat. "Touch me too. I love you so much, and I'm so excited right now."
Quinn managed to slide her fingers between Honor's legs without dislodging Honor's exquisite hold on her. Mirroring Honor's motion, she returned pleasure for pleasure. "God, you make me feel so good."
Honor closed her eyes and kissed her, tilting her hips to signal she wanted Quinn inside. When Quinn hesitated, she opened her eyes. "It's all right. I need you, baby. I really need you."
"Oh Jesus," Quinn groaned, easing into the welcoming depths. "You feel amazing. So hot... so tight."
Honor clenched inside and her breath fled on a soft sob. "I never thought... never thought I'd have a love like this."
"I'm here." Quinn pressed gently, spreading her fingers to fill her. "I'll always be right here."
Honor's pupils flickered and she trembled, working her hand faster between Quinn's legs. "We're going to have a baby."
"Yes." Quinn moaned. "And you're going to make me come."
"Me, too. Any second."
"Okay," Quinn gasped. She held her hips still and swept her thumb over Honor's clitoris. "You first."
Honor's vision clouded as a deep surge of exquisitely pleasurable pressure filled her belly, then she shook her head. "Uh-uh. You."
Honor rested her forehead on Quinn's, their lips barely touching. Quinn dipped her tongue slowly into Honor's mouth. Honor sucked the tip of it in and out, her fingers ceaselessly stroking. She teased and pushed and pulled and Quinn echoed each move.
"I'm about to come."
"Baby? Now?"
"With you. Want to... with you."
Circling firmer, faster. Stroking deeper.
"Ready?"
"Soon. Oh God, soon."
Legs twitching, hips pumping, bellies knotting. Sweat mingling on slick skin, flushed with love.
"Oh, I need to come," Quinn groaned. "I'm almost... so close."
"Let me help you." Honor found Quinn's nipple and tugged. "Baby? Good, baby?"
"So good. Almost—" Quinn's voice broke on a moan.
"Feel me?" Honor clutched Quinn's shoulder. "Oh God, feel me coming? I can't wait..."
"Do it," Quinn gasped.
"Coming! Baby, I'm coming." Honor thrust against Quinn, climaxing around her fingers, arching to touch Quinn everywhere. Still coming, she cupped her palm over the fragile flesh that pulsed and beat beneath her fingers and stroked the slick ridge in tight, hard circles. "Oh baby, you're so beautiful. Come in my hand, baby, come in—"
Quinn's back bowed. "Coming. Coming so hard."
"Oh yes, baby, oh yes." Honor held her lover inside the protective circle of her arms, inside her body, inside her heart. "I love you."
Quinn caught her breath and kissed her. "I love you. Feel okay?"
"Better than okay. I'd forgotten how sexy I felt when I was pregnant with Arly."
"Yeah?" Quinn caressed her breast. "Good for me."
"Mmm, me too." Honor pressed her sensitive nipple against Quinn's hand. "Want to go back to the party?"
"What's my other choice?"
"Stay here and make love to me again."
"That's an easy one." Quinn pulled Honor on top of her. "So easy loving you."
Filled to Overflowing
Karin Kallmaker
"I think I've got a blister, but that hike was worth every step." Cat leaned into Jessica and closed her eyes.
"We actually stood on Lesbos. I'm blown away." Truthfully, Jessica's feet were throbbing too, but a soak in the ship's hot tub before the promised pastry extravaganza at dinner would make it all better. Some sips of nice ruby port Herine had given them as a bon voyage gift would also be dandy.
"I wonder how Kitty is—"
"Nuh uh." Jessica pointed a warning finger at Cat. "We are not grandmothers. Therefore do not mention the grandchildren. We agreed."
"I know. It's hard not to wonder, though." Cat straightened up, her gaze fixed on the ship as they rapidly approached it in the passenger sea shuttle.
"Every day for the last three years, nearly, we've been part of their lives. It's only right that Rob's parents get this week. I'm sure everyone is doing well." Jessica resolutely did not voice any of the many petty thoughts she'd found herself considering at the idea that Kitty and Hank might call someone else Meemaw.
Cat squeezed her hand sympathetically. "We were on Lesbos."
"Yeah. This was a great idea."
"And how sweet of the kids to give us this in anticipation of our thirtieth anniversary."
"I was just thinking about that bottle of port Herine gave us."
Cat made a little purring noise. "Now that sounds heavenly."
A half-hour later they shared sips from a paper cup after they'd eased their sore bodies into the hot tub. Jessica closed her eyes and let the bubbles at her feet soothe her.
"We were on Lesbos," Cat said again.
In her mind's eye Jessica could picture the time-worn temple and other landmarks of the island's history. Though there was nothing overtly welcoming to lesbian pilgrims, she had no trouble envisioning acolytes in gossamer gowns carrying laurel-scented water to wash the feet of the poetess.
Her reverie was interrupted by the noisy arrival of two young women she recalled from the tour. They plopped in the water and sighed with relief.
"I'm w
hacked," one said.
"Totally. I'm still disappointed, though. All that dust and ruin and that's what we're all called? Because somebody wrote some poems?"
The other woman fiddled with the spa jets. "Poetry is dead."
Jessica gave Cat a sidelong glance and then looked away with a deep breath.
"Actually..." Cat paused to casually sip again from the paper cup. "Poetry's immortality is what allowed our foremothers to adapt the island's name to describe a society of women for women. Had not Sappho's verse survived, there's no telling what we'd be calling ourselves, and we might still be searching for a collective identity that allows us to bond and struggle for the advancement of our rights. Without the word lesbian we'd not be on this cruise, or it would be called something else."
The two women were looking at Cat as if she were speaking Greek, which might not be far from the truth. Jessica wiggled her toes in the bubbles and watched her beloved through her lashes.
"If you think about it, the words we use to describe our gender describe not what we are, but what we are not. Female. Woman. Not male, not man. In contrast, lesbian is an assertive word that states what we are in relation to ourselves and no other construct. Sappho's work, and that of her contemporaries that survives, indicates that her academy was likely only for women. Certainly, in our modern age, we want to romanticize this as an act of feminist rebellion when she was a member of a family that was overall persecuted into exile. She chose to eschew the power of men thereafter, probably because it was one of them that brought the wrath of the rulers down on her. Societies run by women had nearly disappeared by Sappho's time. We look back at her academy and see it as a continuation of the line of matriarchy. A bright moment in the long, dark fall of women from their place of respect as givers of life."
The poor young things were deer caught in Cat's headlights. That they were ignorant wasn't their fault—they obviously hadn't had Cat for a mother.
"I expected something more," one of them muttered. "That's all I meant. Everybody goes on and on about her poetry."
"So little has survived, it's true. But it has inspired our lives. 'For while I gazed, in transport tossed, my breath was gone, my voice was lost, my bosom glowed—'"
"Sounds like she'd had a very good time at some point," Jessica said drolly.
Cat splashed her with water. "Hush, you."
The other young thing cocked her head to one side. "That sounds familiar. The voice lost and bosom glowed part."
"Those lines were used in one of the songs Marcy Chastain did Sunday night. She obviously found them inspirational."
"Marcy's so hot," the other said with a sigh.
They slipped into conversation between them after that, and Jessica stole a glance at Cat, who was basking in the hot water while a satisfied smile played around her lips. Leaning over, she said, "I'm going to tell Herine you used her honor's thesis to scold two baby dykes in the hot tub."
Cat snorted. "Think they want to hear about how much of dead poetry is in the song lyrics they enjoy every day?"
Given that the two girls were now making out, Jessica shook her head. "They have a few good ideas, though."
Cat gave her an amused glance. "I'm all relaxed now, what about you?"
Jessica drained the cup of the last of the port. "I'm dandy."
Cat was stripping off her swimsuit as Jessica sidled up behind her to nuzzle her neck.
"Wanna be a little late to dinner?"
"Is that what you have in mind?" Cat wrapped Jessica's arms around her waist. They still fit together exceedingly well.
"Port... warmth... thoughts of licentious acolytes and glowing bosoms."
"And you an old lady."
"Dirty old lady."
Cat turned in her arms and lifted her mouth. "Thank goodness, because I'm one too."
The days of romping across the bed in abandon had been over from the moment Jessica had first slipped a disk, and other delights were curtailed because Cat's knees protested forty-five degree or sharper angles. They'd always been au naturel when it came to lovemaking, but sensible crones, as Cat called them, made use of modern science.
They slid between the cool, dry sheets as Jessica retrieved the slender bottle of personal lubricant from the bedside table. "I love this stuff."
Cat grinned. "So do I. When I'm in the mood I do like to be wet."
"And when you're wet..." Jessica gently spread the lube over Cat with sure fingers. "You're in the mood."
"I should insure your hands."
Jessica kissed the lips curved in a fond smile, then pressed more firmly with her fingertips. Cat's response was quite gratifying. A few whispered words and they were moving together, sweet and easy, not forcing the tide, but letting it rise to wash over them. The motion of the ship lulled them into a soft pace, and kisses were long and languid until they were panting more than they were kissing.
"Touching you like this is my very favorite thing," Jessica whispered.
Cat's shivers were so familiar to Jessica. "I'm glad, because if it wasn't, you should have said so before this."
She pulled Jessica down for a wet, deep kiss, and delightful muscles gripped at Jessica's fingers until Cat gasped for breath and made that wonderful sound. Jessica went in a little deeper, drawing out every bit of response she could.
Cat relaxed and laughed. "God, that's fun."
"Well, if it wasn't you should have said so before this."
"Foo."
"Is that the best you can do? Got no brains at the moment?"
"Foo."
"There's supposed to be chocolate at dinner."
Cat abruptly wiggled and pushed until Jessica found herself on her back. "We'll get there, but there's something else I'd rather eat first."
Jessica grinned. "Do you have a reservation?"
Cat quickly slipped her hips between Jessica's thighs, then deftly tickled the sensitive patch along her underarm. While Jessica struggled and laughed, Cat continued her downward journey until the laughter faded and there was only the intimate exploration of Cat's tongue where Jessica never tired of feeling it. Today would be one of those times when she didn't climax, but the soothing, relaxing pleasure of Cat's attention left her feeling a glow that would last for hours. It was a different kind of sex for her and as meaningful to her at this age as other kinds had been when she was younger.
There was a moment she reached when it felt as if Cat had filled her to overflowing and she could take no more. It didn't matter that certain muscles no longer spasmed as easily, not when she reveled in the heat of Cat's mouth, feeling the wonder of it in all the places only Cat had ever reached. She laughed, low, and stopped Cat with a soft gesture. They smiled over the length of Jessica's body. "Better than a hot tub."
Two beautifully arched eyebrows disappeared under Cat's bangs. "I should hope so."
"Come here, you." Jessica opened her arms and they snuggled together under the covers.
"We smell a bit funky now."
"I like it."
Cat's breathing quickly steadied and Jessica decided another ten minutes wouldn't matter to whatever was served for dinner. Cat was warm and safe in her arms. Someone else might think that they'd sleep together later, so why give up a unique experience in favor of one she could have almost any time she wanted.
Then again, some people didn't get it.
Count Me In
Radclyffe
The hands were back. Sinewy tendons tented the tanned skin as tapered fingers deposited a stack of crisp $100 bills on the felt. Aidan scooped them up, counted the stack twice, and then folded them into the slot on the table that connected to the safe underneath. With practiced efficiency she slid $5,000 in chips back across the table. Only then did she look up and nod at the familiar face of the stranger. Eyes the color of winter stared back from beneath jet black brows. The surprisingly wide, full lips curled briefly into a smile. Then the flash of welcome faded, and all expression left her sharply sculpted face.
Aidan
scanned the table as five different hands pushed chips into the betting circles. Some dropped them carelessly. Others aligned them precisely in the center. The new arrival let them fall from the funnel of her fingers one at a time with a snick snick snick that reminded Aidan of the sound of sex. She had watched those hands every night of the cruise—fingers flicking the edge of a card, caressing the faintly corrugated rim of a chip, tapping the felt delicately with a firm, round fingertip.
Aidan dealt the cards and her clit grew hard. Beautiful hands, strong and deliberate. She imagined them skimming her body with casual possessiveness, a fingernail grazing her nipple. She tilted her hips forward until her mons rested against the curved edge of the table. Her cunt throbbed.
Each of the five players took a card. Tonight, the stranger wore a fine-weave linen shirt with the cuffs rolled back to the middle of her toned forearms. Her wrists were small, her fingers long and fine-boned. Aidan imagined them folding inside of her, knuckles massaging the tender spot that forced her clit to grow and ache and finally burst apart.
Aidan dealt the cards.
Two players went over twenty-one. Losers. Two stood at sixteen and seventeen. Still in the game. The stranger took a card, her middle finger tapping twice with slow deliberation. Aidan felt the smooth, hard edge of a fingernail skim beneath the swollen flesh hooding her clit, and her thighs tightened. Aidan dealt the card.
The stranger slowly brushed her hand over the cards, standing firm at eighteen.
Aidan turned her cards over. A nine and a three. She dealt a card. Five. House rules—the dealer stands at seventeen.
"Dealer pays eighteen." Aidan raised her eyes to those of the winner. She could read nothing in the hawk-like gray eyes, but she caught the glimmer of another smile. She swept the chips of the losers from the table and paid the stranger.
Aidan dealt the cards, round after round, and the stranger won more than she lost. Chips clinked, bills whispered across the surface of felt, and stiff, crisp cards snapped between sure fingers. Hours passed and she watched those hands, feeling the press of smooth flesh in her hot, hungry places. By the time her shift ended, she was wet and swollen and mindless of anything other than the need to reach the locker room and fondle the hard length of her clitoris to a sharp, swift orgasm. She needed to come now, wouldn't be able to wait, just as she hadn't been able to wait the night before. And the night before that.
In Deep Waters_Cruising the Seas Page 20
