Me and Her (Always Her, Book 2): Lesbian Romance

by Alexandra Delancey

  “Rough like this?” I whispered, grasping the hair at the nape of her neck with my free hand.

  “Maybe.” I plunged my hand back inside her again, all the way to the knuckles. Her eyes widened and she whimpered.

  “Do you want me to fuck you hard?” I said.

  “Yes,” she said, holding my gaze.

  I began to pump my hand in and out of her, giving her hard, bruising kisses. She made low, moaning sounds in her throat.

  It didn’t take her long. Within a minute, her muscles fluttered around my fingers in little contractions. I fucked her harder, the heel of my hand bumping up against her clit, and as the little spasms became stronger, I clamped my hand over her mouth, and moved faster and faster, until she exploded, in a strong, shuddery climax.

  “Fuck. That was incredible, Jack,” she said, and wrapped her arms around me, holding me tight as her body trembled all over. Her hand snaked down into my jeans, but I pulled it away. I’d already had a light orgasm, grinding against her hip, and that was enough for now.

  “It wasn’t a letdown from the fantasy version?”

  “Hell no. It was at least twice as good,” she said. I moved her panties back into place, and pulled her skirt back down. If people weren’t likely to start banging on the door, I could’ve spent a lot more time in there with her. My mind ran wild with all the things I wanted to do. Later, I told myself.

  We looked back at the beanbags as we left. Our books were still scattered around.

  Chapter Eight

  Elise

  I don’t know why I suggested going to the modern art gallery because the truth was that I could barely walk after the way Jack had fucked me in the bathroom. I don’t think I was thinking at all; I just said the first thing that had come into my mind. I used to daydream about walking around the gallery hand-in hand with my lover – with Jack – having nice, interesting conversations about the art.

  As we neared the gallery, Jack murmured,

  “You know, I’m worried that you might be too distracted by the dampness of your panties to fully appreciate the art.”

  “You might have a point,” I said, truthfully. As I walked, I could feel that they were ridiculously drenched.

  “Don’t worry, I have a solution,” she said, and she pulled me down a side street. We were suddenly in an area of narrow lanes, which formed the older part of the town. It looked far more chic than I remembered it.

  “Didn’t this use to be full of video game stores, emo kids, and places selling cannabis equipment?” I said.

  “Yep,” Jack said. “But it’s had a makeover. It’s still a fun, edgy area, but it’s a little more upmarket now. For example, there’s this place, right here.” She stopped in front of a storefront that was decorated like a boudoir. “Let’s go in.”

  It was an elegant sex shop. I’d never been in a sex shop before, and I was instantly excited.

  “You’re not supposed to be getting me even more hot than I am already,” I whispered.

  “It’s part of the fun,” she said. We browsed around the store, me feeling like a kid in a candy store. There were books, toys, lingerie, and a whole section of leather and latex clothes and accessories. I paused at this section, out of curiosity more than anything.

  “What do you think about this?” she asked.

  “Hmm, I don’t know. It’s not something I’ve thought about before, really,” I said. “You?”

  “Not in a major way,” Jack replied. “But what if I tied you to the bed with these?” she indicated some leather wrist and ankle cuffs, with chains attached to them.”

  “That could be hot, I guess,” I said.

  “Maybe another time,” she said, flashing her sexy smile. “I’ve got something else in mind for now.” She led me over to the lingerie section. It was a concession of a famous classy, dirty lingerie brand. There were three racks of the kind of panties I love – all lace, satin or silk, and soft and skimpy. She pulled out a wisp of purple silk. “Like these?”

  “Uh huh. I like them all.” She pulled out one after another, and we discussed the relative merits of each.

  “Actually, this is what I was really looking for. I saw it in a magazine commercial recently.” She held up a flimsy, emerald green item. It had lace at the sides, with a silk central panel, and it was almost split into two halves, each half held together with a row of tiny silk ribbons, running from front to back.

  “Dirty!” I said, unspeakably impressed.

  “Do you like them?” Her expression was uncertain.

  “I love them!” I said and kissed her.

  “Good, because I’ve been wanting to buy them for you for a long time!”

  “Fantastic!” I said, forcing myself not to freak at the price tag.

  We drifted over to the toy section together.

  “I’ve been wondering if I should get a new toy as well,” Jack said. As I looked over the rows of dildos, in all shapes, sizes and designs, my arousal stirred again. I loved it when she fucked me with her strap-on. It was rough and primal. But even more, I loved that she really got off on it. “You should be the one to choose it, since you’re the one who experiences it the most.” I liked the one she had a lot, but I had a suspicion that I might like a slightly wider one even more. I picked out one that was the same length as hers, slightly undulating, and maybe 2/3 inch wider in circumference.

  “This one,” I said.

  “Are you sure?” she said. “It looks like a beast.” It did – uncompromising and a little vicious.

  “I think that’s what I like about it,” I said.

  “You’re so hot,” she whispered, squeezing my ass. “It’s lucky for the store that they don’t have doors on their changing room cubicles, or I’d be dragging you in for round two.”

  She also picked out a new strap-on harness, a black fabric one, that looked like underwear.

  “Anything else?” she said looking longingly around the store. There was something so exciting about buying sex equipment. None of it was necessary, at all, but it was just really fun. Concluding that there was nothing we really needed, we paid for our things.

  “Aren’t you forgetting something?” Jack asked as I strode towards the door of the store.

  “What?”

  “I bought you those panties so you could wear them.”

  “Oh – ”

  “You can put them on in the changing room.” Jack told the sales assistant that I needed to change into my new purchase, and the smirking girl held the changing room curtain back as I slipped in, glowing with embarrassment.

  It was crazily hot underwear, I decided, as I checked myself out in the mirror. With the silk bows fastened, it stopped just short of being obscene, but it was still the sexiest thing I’d ever worn. It was flimsy enough to give me the feeling that I wasn’t wearing anything at all, and I liked that feeling a lot.

  As I exited the changing room, Jack gave me a look full of lust and dirty intention.

  “Do we still have time for the art gallery before lunch?” Jack asked.

  “Definitely,” I said, suddenly keen to saunter around in my risqué underwear, knowing it would drive her crazy. The gallery was cool, with hard clicking floors and high ceilings, and, on a weekday, almost deserted. We held hands and walked languorously from room to room. We had whole rooms to ourselves to discuss this painting or that installation, just the way I’d dreamed, all those years ago. Jack touched me here and there – my shoulder, my waist, my hip – romantic touches, but I sensed the tension coiled in her, as if she could barely restrain herself from throwing me against a wall.

  The art was interesting, but nothing struck me as outstanding, and after an hour or so, we’d sated our appetites.

  “Do you need to eat now, or would you like a drink first?” Jack asked.

  “No, a drink would be nice, if you like?” I said. “Where are you thinking?”

  “There’s a nice bar upstairs, actually. It has a really cool view of the town.”

&nbs
p; “Wow, I didn’t know there was even a bar up there. It sounds great.”

  We took a spiral staircase up to the upper story. It was really a rooftop, with a glass conservatory added on top. We sat in the outside area, with an umbrella shading us from the midday sun. We ordered a champagne cocktail each, having gotten a taste for them from Ricardo’s concoctions, and we clinked glasses to our day of fun in our hometown.

  Jack was right; the view from the roof was amazing. The gallery was at the edge of a flattish area, and behind it, the land sloped away so we could see for miles. I gazed out at the landscape, fascinated by the way the clutter of the town gradually gave way to a vast expanse of brown and yellow fields. Far in the distance, the land was hazy and shimmering.

  “Crazy how the sea is so far away, isn’t it?” I said. “I’ve gotten used to knowing it’s only a short drive away.”

  “Elise – ” Jack said.

  “What?” I glanced at her, and then I looked again. Her eyes were darker than usual and very limpid.

  “What is it? Are you ok?”

  “Elise – ” she took my hand across the table. “I – I’m starting to fall in love with you.” My heart jumped.

  “You are?” I breathed. She nodded. “I think I’ve known for a while,” she said. “Before we came back home. And I wanted to tell you before, but I wasn’t sure if you felt the same way.”

  “Are you kidding?” I said. “I’m falling in love with you too, Jack.” Feeling dizzy, almost faint, I stretched across the table, and our lips met for four, five blissful seconds. We pulled back, staring at each other, a little dazed.

  “You’re everything I could want in a person,” she said, looking at me with intensity. “You’re such good company, so much fun to be with, so beautiful and funny and smart. And about the dirtiest person I’ve ever met. Ever since we got together, I’ve felt like I want to be around you all the time.” I laced my fingers in hers.

  “I feel the same about you,” I said. “I’ve thought about telling you too. But I needed to make sure that my feelings were – ” I paused, with a self-conscious laugh. “Adult. And not the product of an overgrown teenage crush.”

  “But how can you be sure?” she said, her eyes serious, but the curve of her lips playful.

  “Same way you’re sure that your feelings for me are genuine, and not just gratitude at the ego massage I’ve been giving you,” I said, eyebrow raised.

  “You’re such a snarky girl,” she said, and, touching my jaw with her fingertips, she kissed me softly for a long time.

  It was long enough since we’d last eaten that the champagne made us light-headed and giggly. We skipped across the square to a French brasserie-style restaurant. The whole time, I couldn’t take my eyes off Jack. She was mine in a way she hadn’t been before. We chattered about nothing much during lunch, barely tasting the food, absorbed in each other.

  Afterwards, we got ice creams, and sat out in a small park, holding hands and drowsily watching kids playing. The world seemed brighter, colors more vivid, trees and flowers more alive. We hadn’t drunk much more, but I felt high and giddy, full of a feeling of endless possibilities.

  The next few hours passed in a blur of laughter, kisses, and lots of sweet nothings. I’d never been to the park before, and I loved being there, in a new place, in a familiar town, with a sense of a whole new world opening in front of me. We sat in the park until it was almost dark. I hadn’t voiced my feelings about being there, but I sensed Jack felt something similar, and neither of us wanted to break the tension of the moment.

  As a whisper of breeze chilled us, Jack got to her feet.

  “Ok, let’s go for a happy hour cocktail, and have a snack, and there’s one more place I want to take you,” she said.

  “Where?”

  “You’ll find out soon.”

  We went to a cozy bar, a nice contrast to the cooling air, with warm, orange lighting, bare brick walls and comfortable nooks. We ordered hot buttered rums to warm us up, and lounged on cushions, listening to Cesaria Evora. Jack played with my hair, separating it into strands.

  “What made you say you were falling in love with me when we were in the bar?” I asked shyly, the words still so new and untested on my lips.

  “It was something in your eyes when you looked out at the view,” she said. “I felt like you were looking out at infinity, and I had this overwhelming sense of wanting to be part of it with you.”

  “Wow, that’s beautiful,” I said.

  We held hands, warm and languid, and I was reluctant to leave, as eager as I was to see the place that Jack had been talking about.

  When I came back from the restroom, Jack had ordered us a taxi. When we climbed in, the driver didn’t ask us where we were going. She’d obviously told the company to keep it secret. As we drove into the night, my excitement mounted again. The town sped by, the streets mostly familiar. We turned down one very familiar street, and then another, and when we finally came to a stop at the back of our old high school, I wasn’t surprised.

  “What are we doing here?” I asked, as the taxi left us.

  “Well, I thought that since we were taking a trip down memory lane today, it’d be a real shame to miss out the place where we first met,” she said, and took a bunch of keys out of her pocket.

  “I love this idea!” I exclaimed. “But – how do you have these keys?”

  “I had a set so I could access the newspaper office anytime, because we’d often end up working late,” she said. “And I somehow never got around to giving them back when I left.” She gave me a wicked look. “Maybe I knew they’d come in handy someday.”

  “What if we get caught?” I said.

  “I think we can bluff it.” She kissed me. “And if not, I feel it’s a risk worth taking. But we don’t have to go in if you don’t feel comfortable?”

  “No, I really want to,” I said, a little nervous, but prickling with excitement at the same time.

  She unlocked the gate and I followed her through a small courtyard to an unmarked door. I’d never seen it before, having had no reason to use it. I held my breath as she put the key in the lock, but it turned easily.

  “Don’t worry!” she said. “I came here a couple of days ago and made sure that the keys still worked.”

  “I can’t believe you planned all this,” I said.

  As soon as we walked into the corridor and the school smell hit me, my brain went crazy, bombarding me with snatches of memories, things I hadn’t thought about for so long. I squeezed Jack’s hand tight.

  “We can’t go everywhere,” she said. “Some of the building is alarmed, but this section is all fine. I did a quick check the other day. Where do you want to go first?”

  “I want to go on a tour, of everything,” I said, bouncing with excitement. “Starting on the top floor.”

  We walked along the main corridor, passing rows upon rows of lockers. My shoes squeaked on the floor, just like they used to, and the hallway still smelled of disinfectant.

  “Which locker was yours?” she asked.

  “Uh, I can’t remember the number. One of those I think,” I said, pointing to a block of battered, dull orange lockers.

  “Mine was around the corner, in that separate area,” she said.

  “I know.”

  “Stalker!” I sighed.

  “I might have lingered there, once or twice, desperately wishing I had the courage to slip a note inside. What a loser!” She laughed, indulgently.

  “I think that’s really sweet, actually.”

  “Can we go see it?” I asked.

  “Ok.” We walked around to a room packed with lockers.

  “384. That’s it,” I said, walking over and laying my hand on it.

  “What?” She laughed. “You couldn’t remember your own locker, but you can remember mine?”

  “Of course. Mine was just a locker where I kept my stuff. But yours was so much more. It had your clothes inside, things that had been on your body. It con
tained your notebooks, where you’d written words with your own hand. I wondered, often, what else you kept in there.”

  “I hate to burst your bubble, but mainly dirty sport kit,” she said. While she was still laughing at her own joke, I caught her off balance, and pushed her back against the locker. The clunk of locker doors slamming echoed back through the years. I kissed her, thinking that never in my wildest dreams had I imagined this moment could happen. I made a small sound as her thigh slipped between my legs, and I pressed closer, keeping my mouth on hers. I remembered her as she was then, with longer, messier hair, features softer, less finished than they’d become. And weirdly, I suddenly seemed to inhabit my younger self. Once again, I was a horny 16-year-old, with raging hormones and an overwhelming crush. Her fingers bit into my waist, as my hand slid up to her breast, cupping it through her t-shirt and the light fabric of her bra. I pulled back and looked in her eyes. I wanted her so bad, but I was also aware that there were other, better places around the school.

  “Let’s go upstairs,” I said. She seemed dazed, and I pulled her by the hand, up the stairs, all three flights of them.

  “Something tells me you were never this keen to be in school back in the day!” Jack said.

  “I don’t know. I didn’t hate it. It was nice having this close relationship with my friends. But, at the same time, it all felt a little fake, I guess.” We skittered along the corridors, passing classrooms that had all retained their individual odors. “That’s the one that always smelled like OJ. And this is the one that constantly had that funk, like old trainers.”

  “Yeah, I remember being glad it wasn’t my home room,” Jack said.

  We came to the room right at the end of the corridor. It was an overflow room, only used when all the others were overbooked for classes. It was small, with maybe 25 chairs and tables, a teacher’s desk, a chalk board, a bookshelf, and not much else. The ceiling was sloping, with a big window in it, and the light of the moon flooded in, casting the room in a pale-blue glow.