by Kelly Wacker
“As I told you before, you’re a good student—a fast learner, actually. You haven’t even stepped on my toes.”
“Yet.” Sula was serious, but Melissa laughed anyway. Pressed against her chest, Sula not only heard Melissa’s laughter, but she also felt it, a low rumble resonating all the way into her bones.
Melissa removed her hand from Sula’s back and placed it inside the collar of Sula’s shirt. Brushing her nails along the nape of her neck, she slid her fingers into her hair. Sula lifted her chin, pressing her head against Melissa’s hand…and bumped into the back of the sofa. She stopped abruptly, widening her stance and grabbing Melissa’s hips for stability. To avoid toppling backward, she lowered herself and sat on the edge of the sofa, which had the unintended, but far from unpleasant, effect of pulling Melissa between her thighs. Melissa stared at her wide-eyed, her face directly in front of Sula’s.
“Well, that was quite a move,” Melissa said drolly and kissed her, gently at first and then fiercely. Melissa shifted, pressing her hip against the throbbing spot between Sula’s legs, and a soft moan escaped from her lips. Sula felt as if she would dissolve into a puddle. Melissa broke off the kiss, leaving Sula breathless but feeling far from weak.
“Mmm…” Melissa whispered. “I like it when you growl like that.”
And with those words, what little remained of Sula’s reserve broke. Energy coursed through her like the torrent of a river swollen after a spring rain. She clasped Melissa tightly, stood up, and carried her to the closest bedroom.
No lover had ever picked Melissa up and carried her off on a wave of passion. She thought that was the fanciful, overwrought stuff of Baroque paintings and romance novels. She now fully understood the expression to be swept off your feet, and it felt astonishingly good to be secure in Sula’s arms. Melissa kicked off her loafers before Sula deposited her gently on the bed, trailing kisses down her neck and sweeping back the covers.
Sula undressed her with surprising efficiency; the crisp white sheets seemed to glow in the darkened room and felt cool against her feverish skin. Melissa undid the buckle of Sula’s belt and unzipped her pants, pulling them and the bikini briefs she wore underneath down over the curve of her hips. Sula slipped off her boots and socks before pulling her shirt and bra over her head, not wasting time unhooking clasps or undoing buttons.
Keeping her eyes on Sula, Melissa moved backward across the smooth sheets to the center of the large bed. Sula stepped out of the clothes pooled around her feet and followed her, crawling across the bed, her hair framing her face like a dark halo. With a hungry look of desire, her amber eyes caught the light coming through the open door and glinted the color of pale gold.
Sula’s mouth found hers, their kisses becoming a wet blur of lips, and teeth, and tongues. Other parts of her were wet, too, and wanting. Melissa pressed her hands against Sula’s shoulders and rolled her on to her back, straddling her.
Running her fingertips lightly across Sula’s breasts, Melissa followed the invisible trails with her lips. She cupped and caressed her soft, round breasts, kissing and teasing each nipple until it grew firm under her tongue and Sula began to move restlessly underneath her. She touched and kissed along the side of Sula’s ribs, across the gentle swell of her belly and the shallow dip between her hips above the low rise of soft flesh between her legs. The texture and feel of her was marvelous, a play of contrasts—hard muscle underneath the soft surface of her skin.
Melissa paused to observe Sula. With her arms above her head, eyes closed, and a look of bliss on her face, she looked as languid and beautiful as Venus in a Renaissance painting. Melissa bit her lower lip in anticipation of Sula’s reaction as she dipped her fingers into the soft folds between her legs, the enveloping warm wetness increasing her desire.
“Oh…” Sula raised her hips and pressed her head into the pillow.
Melissa shifted, aligning her body along the long length of Sula’s, and watched how Sula responded to her touch, discovering what movement and pressure seemed to bring her the most pleasure. Sula murmured incoherently, her face turned in to the pillow, her body undulating against Melissa with an increasingly urgent rhythm. Melissa felt a little drunk on the power to please.
Sula wrapped her arm around Melissa, holding her tight, and grabbed at the sheet with her other hand. They moved seamlessly together, an ancient, instinctive rhythm.
“Don’t stop,” Sula pleaded in a rough voice.
Melissa had no intention of doing otherwise, but before she could respond, a roaring moan erupted from deep within Sula. Her climax came in deep waves that shook the bed, perhaps even the furniture in the room; she wasn’t sure because her focus remained solely on Sula. Nothing mattered more in this moment than the magnificent woman in her embrace. Sula released her grip on the bed and gulped for air. Melissa kissed her neck, damp with perspiration, and held her until she lay still in her arms, her body quiescent.
Once recovered, Sula propped herself up on one elbow and stared at Melissa with a glassy-eyed look of wonder. “I’m not sure I can put into words how that felt.”
“Sometimes words aren’t necessary.”
“Oh, really, Professor?” Sula said in a teasing tone.
Melissa rolled onto her side to face Sula. “You know the old adage about actions speaking louder than words. I’d say your actions spoke very loudly.” Melissa laughed softly. “Come to think of it, I’d say you spoke rather loudly, too.”
A look of shock flashed across Sula’s face, but it shifted quickly into a rakish smile. “Let’s see what happens when the tables are turned.”
Melissa’s hair had come undone. It brushed the tops of her shoulders and fell into her eyes. Sula pushed it back with her fingers, tucking a loose strand behind her ear, a tender, intimate gesture. The base of her neck now exposed, Sula kissed and nipped it gently, working her way up to a sensitive spot below her ear. Melissa’s aching need for release intensified, grew almost painful. Sula stroked her back, and with each pass, her hand went a little farther down, first over the rise and fall of each buttock, then along her hip and thigh, and finally across her stomach and lower…Melissa held her breath, anticipating Sula’s touch in the place she was so desperately wanting it.
Instead, Sula put her hand on Melissa’s hip and rolled her onto her back, moving with her. Hovering over her, Sula pushed her legs apart with both hands. Melissa didn’t think she could be turned on any more than she already was, but experiencing the controlled power in Sula’s actions launched her to a new level of arousal. She didn’t just want Sula; she wanted Sula to take her in any way she wanted. Melissa moaned softly and lifted her hips, an offering.
Sula moved closer, slipping her long arms under Melissa’s legs, along her sides, and sliding her fingers between Melissa’s back and the mattress. With a hungry-looking smile and a low growl, Sula took her with her mouth. Melissa inhaled sharply, and cradled in Sula’s arms, she was caught in a whirlwind of desire and excruciatingly pure sensation. Whatever Sula was doing with her tongue and lips, it quickly rendered her unable to form a coherent thought. She closed her eyes and clutched the sheets. Sula brought her to a point just shy of climax and held her there at the tipping point for…how long? It could have been thirty seconds or thirty minutes. Time was irrelevant. She lost all awareness of its passing until her senses, which felt like they were expanding in all directions, suddenly contracted to a single point. She cried out, and her orgasm came hard, overwhelming her in explosive pulsations.
Sula nuzzled her, planting kisses on the insides of her thighs. The heady fragrance of their individual perfumes commingled with the scent of sex hung in the air of the room that now seemed almost chilly as it cooled Melissa’s damp skin.
“You are sweeter than honey,” Sula said softly after she stretched out next to Melissa.
“Given your love of honey, that is high praise.” Melissa laughed and put her hand in Sula’s wavy hair, touseling it. It was damp at the roots from the exertions of their
lovemaking. “Have you ever considered that you might have a honey addiction?”
Sula laughed and sat up abruptly. “That reminds me, we have dessert.” Without waiting for a response, she jumped out of bed and padded into the sitting room. Seeing her in the light, Melissa marveled at the athleticism of her body, yet she had soft curves in all the right places. She sat up against the pillows and turned on the light next to the bed. Fortunately, it was adjustable, and she kept the light on the lowest setting, enough to see but not enough to ruin the ambience. Sula returned with the two containers, giving one to Melissa before getting back into the bed. She sat in front of Melissa and folded her legs underneath of her. “We don’t have forks.”
“I can use my fingers.”
A devilish look crossed Sula’s face. “You are very good at using your fingers.”
“And you’re very good with your mouth, I must say. Where on earth did you learn to do that thing with your lips?”
“Picking berries.”
“What?”
Sula grinned. “Berries. I like to pick them off the vine with my lips.”
“Seriously?”
“You tell me.”
“Well, considering what your lips just did to me, I’d say you’re serious.” It was an odd thing to do, Melissa thought—pick berries with your lips instead of with your hands—but Sula’s acquired skill had obvious benefits in the bedroom.
Melissa opened the box revealing the Mexican chocolate torte. She broke off a piece and held it out to Sula, who grabbed it first with her lips, then her teeth. Melissa watched her closely. Able to only feel those lips a few minutes ago, now she saw them in action. There really was something odd about how she used them to take hold of the torte. Odd, but wonderful.
Sula growled her appreciation while she chewed the cake and offered Melissa a piece of the almond torte. Together, they devoured the two pastries, and after the last morsel was gone, Melissa licked chocolate from her fingers. Sula grabbed her hand, stopping her.
“Allow me,” Sula said, taking her index finger into her mouth.
“Are you still hungry?” Melissa asked. Sula ran her tongue along the tips of her fingers, causing a frisson that rippled through her body.
“I am,” Sula said with a lopsided grin. “I might need more honey. But I can stop any time, if you’re worried I’m behaving like an addict.”
“Don’t you dare,” Melissa said in a low voice, pulling Sula into an embrace, kissing her hard. The taste of sweet almond mixed with her own sexual scent inflamed her, and she didn’t let go of Sula until they were both entangled and exhausted. The last thing she remembered was the soft sound of Sula’s slow, deep breathing, the pressure of her cheek on her shoulder, and her arm draped limply across her torso. Feeling secure and satiated, she fell into a deeply contented sleep.
Chapter Eighteen
Melissa woke up to the smell of coffee. Opening her eyes, she discovered that Sula wasn’t next to her. The bed was empty.
“Good morning, Goldie.” Sula’s low, velvety voice came from behind.
Melissa rolled over to find Sula standing next to the bed. “Oh, there you are…good morning, Sula Bear.”
Sula, wearing a white robe embroidered with the hotel’s griffin logo, smiled and offered her the cup in her hand. Her hair was wet, and when Sula leaned forward, Melissa smelled the clean scent of soap. She sat up and accepted the cup with both hands. “Ah, coffee…thank you.”
“You’re welcome. I hope you slept well.”
“Exceptionally well.” Melissa smiled. The cup was hot, and she took a cautious sip. “Do I smell bacon? And why are you up instead of in this bed with me?”
“I have a meeting this morning, remember?” Sula gave Melissa a smoldering look. “I’d much rather be in bed with you.”
“Oh, right. The meeting,” Melissa said unconvincingly. Of course, she remembered the meeting, but she couldn’t resist teasing Sula. “Are you sure you can’t cancel it?”
“You are such a temptress.”
“Said the woman who swept me off my feet last night. And I mean that both figuratively and literally. You can’t blame me for not trying to get you back into bed.”
Sula laughed. “Are you hungry? I ordered room service. You were sleeping so peacefully, I didn’t want to wake you up to find out what you wanted for breakfast, so I ordered several things.”
“I’m famished.” Melissa glanced toward the window, which was covered with a heavy drape. The room was dark, but light bled out around the edges of the curtain. She was normally up before the sun was over the horizon, but with Sula she seemed to lose sense of time so easily and in the most delectable ways. Memories of last night flashed through her mind, of Sula’s body, sweaty and slick, against hers and her lips against—
“I’ll get you a robe,” Sula said.
Whatever Sula had ordered smelled enticing. Even though her stomach rumbled in hunger and Sula had a meeting to attend, Melissa still had a strong compulsion to untie her robe, slip her hands between the fluffy white fabric and Sula’s skin, and pull her back into the bed. Sula returned from the bathroom with a matching robe, holding it out for her. Melissa flipped the covers back and eased out of the bed. Standing naked, she watched as Sula’s eyes roamed over her body and she made that soft sexy sound, almost like a purr. With a fluttering feeling in her chest, Melissa turned and slipped an arm into each sleeve of the robe. Sula embraced her from behind, wrapping her long arms around her, and kissed her neck.
“Careful, Bear, or you’ll never get to that meeting.”
Sula sighed and released her. “All right, breakfast then.”
Melissa followed Sula into the sitting room and laughed as they removed the lids from plates on a cart. They had enough food to feed several more people—scrambled eggs, bacon, roasted potatoes, pancakes, croissants, biscuits, a big bowl of fruit, little pots of jam and syrup, and a silver carafe of coffee.
Melissa surveyed the food. “Uh-oh. Something’s missing.”
“What?”
“Honey.”
Sula’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh, you’re right! I’ll call and order some.” Sula looked around. “Once I remember where I put my phone.”
“Sula.”
“Yes?”
“I’m kidding.” Melissa gave her a teasing sidelong glance and bumped her with her hip. “Can you go a meal without honey?”
Sula looked shocked but laughed with her. “Of course, I can. But why would I want to?”
Melissa quietly marveled at the unexpected comfort of sharing coffee and the smorgasbord of a breakfast with Sula. It was as if they did this regularly, eating and talking, their conversation running a wide arc from humorous to serious. Melissa asked Sula what she hoped the morning’s meeting would accomplish. She explained that it was about expanding their bear-safety program into neighboring states. Sula was aiming to use contacts in the regional US Fish & Wildlife Service office as a way of opening doors for running the program elsewhere. She envisioned hosting municipal representatives at the conservancy in Buckhorn for training and offering follow-up support after the program was implemented. She also wanted to collect data to make available to wildlife biologists and researchers.
“I could have this conversation by email or phone,” Sula said in between bites of pancake that she swabbed in the maple syrup pooled on her plate. “But it’s so useful to have a real conversation, you know? What they’re reluctant to tell you in writing or over the phone, they’ll tell you in person.”
“Like what?” Melissa picked through the fruit, leaving the raspberries for Sula since she had mentioned she loved them. Additionally, Melissa was fascinated by how she ate them, the way she used her lips, though she tried not to be caught staring.
“Personalities, for one. Who’s likely to be sympathetic to the cause and who isn’t. Sometimes it’s good to know who not to talk to.”
“Very true. There’s nothing worse than running into someone who throws up a roadblock.”<
br />
“Sounds like you’ve had experience.”
“I have. I’ve been trying to get another art historian on the faculty so we can develop a major in art history. Right now, we only have a minor, and I’m the sole art historian. The studio program was expanded thanks to a recently deceased and very wealthy alumnus who left us his estate. We’ve got the space and enough students for it. We’ve even lost some students who transferred to another college that offers a major. My department chair isn’t against it, but he’s got a lot of other things lined up that are taking precedence.”
“So, who’s the roadblock?”
“The dean of the College of Arts and Sciences. He’s an engineer and doesn’t understand the need for the study of the humanities. All he can see is science and technology as the path to the future.” Melissa stabbed a piece of melon with a little more force than necessary and saw Sula wince in response.
“I thought you were happy teaching there.”
“Oh, I am. I work with great people, some of whom are good friends, and I love the students. It’s just that it could be better than it currently is. The program, I mean.” Melissa pulled the melon off her fork with her teeth.
“You’re ambitious.”
Melissa thought about Sula’s comment while she chewed. “Yeah, I guess so. I see something that can be improved, and I want to make it happen.” She pointed her fork at Sula. “Kind of like you.”
Sula smiled. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“You should.” Melissa smiled back.
Sula broke away from Melissa’s gaze and glanced anxiously around the room. “I really need to find my phone. What time is it? I probably need to get dressed.”
Melissa leaned forward and peered into the bedroom. The blue LED numbers on the clock on the table by the bed read 8:23. “It’s almost eight thirty. When do you need to leave?”
