by Maggie Brown
Ginny turned to Austen. “What about another song after we eat?”
She snickered. “I might wake up Her Majesty.”
“Austen,” said Sophie sternly. “That was rude. Ginny is Eleanor’s friend.”
“Oh,” said Ginny, toying with her cutlery, “I think she should come down. It wouldn’t do to miss this action. I saw some CDs in the lounge. We can adjourn there later.”
The meal went down well, Sophie pleased to see that Austen and Ginny ate voraciously. She always thought the best thing about cooking was its appreciation. After finishing off seconds, Austen groaned. “I’m stuffed. That was fantastic. Now come on and I’ll have a look at those CDs.”
While Austen rifled through the collection in the other room, Ginny, ignoring Sophie’s protest, offered to help her clean up. “Nonsense. Two hands are better than one. You wash, I’ll wipe. What did you think of Ellie’s performance tonight?”
“It was wonderful.” Sophie skimmed the dishcloth over a plate and caught her eye when she passed it over. “I hadn’t realized she was so good. I’ve seen a lot of Shakespeare onstage, but she brought his words to another level.”
“Yes she did. And I think she’ll only improve. She has the capacity to be one of the great actors of modern times. Hers is a rare talent, which needs to be nurtured. Her mother wants her to settle down with someone who’ll help her achieve that, and keep her happy when she needs pleasuring.” She punctuated the last words with air quotes.
Sophie gave a little gasp. Ginny would make anyone blush. She felt the heat rise in her cheeks as erotic images of languidly pleasuring Eleanor with her tongue, flickered through her brain like a porn video. “Does she?” she wheezed out.
“Yes. We’re on the lookout for the right woman.”
“Oh. I wouldn’t bother too much. I bet there’d be a big lineup,” Sophie said a little bitterly.
“I imagine there will be. And talk about talent. Austen has her share too. You seem to be getting on well with her.”
Sophie chuckled. “She’s fun. And not what I expected. She’s actually rather sweet and quite sensitive.”
“She’s got a reputation though. She’s one of the sexiest creatures I’ve ever seen. She’d be hard to resist if you were a lesbian.”
“Yes, she is. She has the knack of not being offensive when she asks. Even though you know she’s been with truckloads of women, she makes you feel special. Does that make sense?”
“Ah,” murmured Ginny. “That sounds like she’s already popped the question.”
“What do you think?” said Sophie, letting out a guffaw. “Anything with breasts is fair game to Austen.”
“And what did—?” Her words were interrupted by a blast of music from the lounge.
Sophie gave a cry of delight. “It’s one of Austen’s. Go on in and take the glasses. I’ll get another bottle of wine. Maybe she’ll sing along with the recording.”
Out of the corner of her eye, Sophie didn’t miss Ginny’s chagrin at having had her question cut off. She felt a spurt of satisfaction. It was none of her business if Austen wanted to sleep with her, and Sophie wasn’t a child who needed to be warned about the singer. Choosing a Shiraz, she screwed off the lid and filled the glasses.
Austen gave her a wink as she took a glass. “Ah, nectar of the gods. Now dance with Ginny and I’ll sing along. It’s one of my favourites.”
After a halfhearted protest, Ginny allowed herself to be pulled out onto the floor. She was surprisingly light on her feet, with quite a few good moves as they gyrated to the beat. Austen looked like the superstar she was as she belted out the words. After two songs, Ginny flopped into a chair, wheezing. Sophie, in the zone now, danced on, and then felt Austen slide up behind her, mirroring her movements. With an arm around Sophie’s waist, she pressed more firmly against her and crooned in her ear as they twisted in harmony.
Sophie didn’t pull away, mesmerized by the way Austen led her through the dance. She closed her eyes, enjoying the sensation. It was intoxicating. But when she opened her them again, she found herself staring into two hooded hazel eyes. Eleanor, dressed in a grey tracksuit, stood against the doorframe, watching her with an expression that Sophie couldn’t read. Sophie smiled widely at her.
From behind, Austen called out, “I was wondering if you were going to join us, Eleanor. Ask Ginny for the next dance. It’s a slow one.”
Sophie stepped forward slightly so they weren’t touching, embarrassed. Nobody could have mistaken the hint of swagger and possessiveness in Austen’s voice.
Eleanor’s gaze remained centred on Sophie. “No, Austen. I’m sure Ginny would love to dance with you. I’m cutting in.”
Without another word, she strode forward, reached for Sophie’s hand and pulled her into her arms.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Eleanor lay on the bed as she listened to the music, at odds with what to do. She desperately wanted to go downstairs, although she knew she probably wouldn’t like what she’d see. She had heard them come in, hurt that Sophie would have been so unfeeling as to bring Austen into their home. As the sounds died down, her hurt turned to anguish. Had they gone to Sophie’s room? When Ginny’s voice floated up the stairs, some of her anxiety faded. At least they weren’t there yet. From the muted sounds from the kitchen, she presumed they were having something to eat. Then the music started in the lounge.
Finally, Eleanor couldn’t stand it any longer. But she wasn’t going to change her clothes. She wouldn’t give them that satisfaction. With a last longing look at her wardrobe, she sailed off down the stairs, ready for battle. When she arrived at the threshold of the lounge, she could only remain there in silent misery. Austen was pressed against Sophie’s back, her arm around her waist, dancing with a slow seductive rhythm. Sophie had her eyes closed, obviously enjoying the connection. All emotion drained out of Eleanor’s body. Completely swamped, she couldn’t even force her legs to move.
Barely able to hold herself together, she half turned to walk back to her room, but stopped when she caught Ginny’s eye. With a sharp shake of her head, the older woman twiddled her fingers around in some elaborate sign language that Eleanor strained to decipher. She peered at the hands, figuring it must be some obscure self-help thing. In the end, Ginny shot a frustrated glare, curled her lips and mouthed, “Go. Get. Her.”
She swung back to Sophie. Her eyes opened and their gazes locked. Eleanor’s heart gave a lurch when Sophie’s face transformed into a wide happy smile. With no more hesitation, Eleanor brushed off Austen with a few empowered words, strode forward and tugged Sophie into her arms. Immediately, Sophie threw her arm around her neck and sank into her. At the feel of the soft body, an intense wave of sensation swirled across Eleanor’s skin. With slow sensuous movements, they began to sway together to the beat, Eleanor’s face buried in the dark hair, Sophie’s head in the crook of her shoulder.
Eleanor became oblivious to the surroundings, her world centred on the woman against her. When Sophie trembled in her arms, it was more of an aphrodisiac than she even imagined possible. The ache in Eleanor’s chest turned into a deeper, richer one that lodged between her legs. She couldn’t contain herself. She bent her head and sucked lightly on her earlobe, then feathered kisses up and down her neck. Sophie nestled her head further into her shoulder to expose more skin to the kiss. A cough from Ginny brought them back to earth. Eleanor straightened up a little guiltily, but kept a tight hold on Sophie.
Ginny heaved herself out of the chair. “I’m off to bed. I think that’s our cue, Austen. Two’s company, three’s a crowd. And four definitely is.”
Austen nodded ruefully. “Yep. I guess that’s our call. See you tomorrow, Soph. Thanks for the pasta.”
“See you.”
When they had gone, Eleanor turned and ruffled Sophie’s hair. “Come on, I’ll walk you to your room.”
Sophie looked at her questioningly, though didn’t argue. Fingers entwined, they silently made their way to the unit. Wh
en Sophie dropped her hand and walked through the door, Eleanor didn’t hesitate on the brink but followed her in.
“Goodni—” Sophie’s words were lost in Eleanor’s mouth.
With an urgent pull, she hauled Sophie closer until they were pressed together, their breath mingling. The vibration of her own heartbeat blocked out all other sounds in Eleanor’s head. With slow deliberation, she kissed the soft full lips, slowly, sweetly until her mind reeled with desire, hungering to claim the woman in her arms. As the heat grew between them, Eleanor’s kisses became more demanding—this time she wanted to make Sophie forget every other woman she’d ever met, especially Austen.
A current ran between them, potent and electrifying, becoming a living thing as it twirled and writhed. Licks of fire screamed down her nerve ends as their tongues danced together, sucking, weaving, and tickling until all control vanished for Eleanor. She groaned aloud as the heat between her legs reached fever point.
“May I take off your shirt?” she murmured. When Sophie nodded, she quickly hauled it over her head, which left the lacy black bra encasing her full breasts. Eleanor unclipped it and lowered her head to run her cheeks over the soft flesh. Sophie arched upward, raking her hands through Eleanor’s hair with urgent tugs.
Eleanor reverently filled her palms with the warm flesh. “Oh, my darling, they’re beautiful. So soft.”
Sophie began to squirm with little mewing sounds as Eleanor squeezed and flicked the nipples until they were jutting out from the pebbled areolas. She drew away for a moment to gaze into Sophie’s face. Strands of hair curled carelessly around her forehead and her eyes were clouded and dusty. Eleanor took a nipple into her mouth. She sucked hard, drawing it in until Sophie swayed her hips hard against her as a flurry of endearments bubbled out.
Desire stripped away all reason when Sophie slid a hand under the waistband of Eleanor’s pants and slipped a finger into the moisture pooled between her legs. As the tip hit the sensitive spot, such a sharp wave of pleasure vibrated through her body that Eleanor could only gasp, “Bed.”
Over tripping feet they made their way to the bedroom, Eleanor barely aware of her surroundings. Dazed and trembling, she latched onto Sophie’s neck and sucked the warm skin, inhaling her scent. With urgency now, they undressed and moved quickly onto the sheets. Eleanor lay Sophie down on her back then knelt over her. Sophie reached up and stroked her cheek. “What do you want from me, Eleanor?” she breathed huskily.
“Everything, my darling…everything.” A pent-up need flooded through Eleanor as she gazed at the nubile body. It was ravishing and this chalice of pleasure was all hers to enjoy. With a groan, she claimed the lips again, filling up the mouth with her tongue as she moved her body lightly over Sophie. Then she reclaimed the breasts, suckled until the globes were swollen and the nipples hard. She trailed her mouth down over her abdomen, nibbling and kissing on her journey down her body. Finally, she settled herself between her legs.
With the first long stroke of the tongue, Sophie cried out, “Oh my God, that’s so good…so good.”
Eleanor became lost in the taste and smell of the woman. Her essence was of spring flowers, summer rains, and salty ocean air—pure, tangy, and addictive. As the scents intoxicated her, her tongue and mouth became more demanding. Finally, she circled with the tips of two fingers and waited.
“Please,” Sophie whispered.
It was the invitation she needed. Slowly she pushed inside, and began to thrust in and out. She curled the fingers, searching. When Sophie jerked her hips more urgently, she knew she had found that special spot. She quickened the pace over it. They were lost now in a whirlpool of sensation as she gradually brought Sophie to the brink. When the muscle walls tightened, she knew Sophie was close to release. When she deliberately sucked the engorged nub into her mouth, the climax hit immediately. Sophie screamed out her name as she exploded. Power sang through Eleanor, and she held her hips tenderly as the orgasm rolled through in glorious waves.
Once they had shivered away, Eleanor moved up to take her in her arms. Her head pillowed in the curve of her shoulder, Sophie smiled dreamily. “That was indescribable.”
Eleanor kissed her gently on the cheek. “You’re so beautiful. Amazing.”
Sophie gave contented sighs, caressing Eleanor’s belly with her fingertips. “You’re not tired are you, Ellie? I’d like to start pleasuring you now if that’s all right.”
Eleanor’s breath hitched. Pleasuring sounded so hedonistic, so sexually fulfilling, so wonderful. “I’d like that, darling,” she whispered.
Her body pulsated with excitement, cried out for release. She lay down on her back and watched Sophie skim her fingers up over her body.
“Shut your eyes, sweetheart, just feel me,” Sophie murmured.
Eleanor did what she was told. She let her eyes close and wrapped herself into the experience. What followed was like a dream, a fantasy that had come straight from her imagination. First, it was a hot breath all over her chest and neck until goose bumps prickled her skin, sharpening the sensations. Then slowly her body was kissed and stroked, from the top of her head to the very tips of her toes. When she twitched at her most sensitive places, these were given extra attention. She knew Sophie was learning what pleased her.
Her nipples were sucked and stretched until they were so hypersensitive every touch shot to her sex. By the time Sophie’s tongue was moving in random circles over her stomach, she was ready to combust. As Sophie shimmered her lips up and down her inner thighs, Eleanor whispered frantically, “Please, darling. I need you. Please.”
“Patience. Just relax.”
“I’m nearly there. Please.” With a growl of frustration, Eleanor coiled her legs around Sophie’s waist and grasped her hair with urgent fingers.
Sophie looked up with a brief smile before she sank her mouth between Eleanor’s legs. She sucked wildly and then scraped the clit firmly with her tongue. A hundred tiny pulse points drummed through Eleanor’s sex, and like an exploding star, her orgasm blazed into life. She cried out, all control lost as the torrent crashed through her. The waves pulsated fiercely. When finally they ebbed away, she collapsed panting on the sheets. In all her memory, she couldn’t recall experiencing anything quite that breathtaking. Not even Maria had brought her to such heights.
For a long while, they stretched out on their backs, content to stare at the ceiling in silence. Words seemed inadequate to Eleanor, but finally she felt compelled to say, “We need to sleep. I should go.”
“No. Stay,” Sophie said quickly.
Pleased, Eleanor rolled over and gave her an open-mouthed kiss. “You want me to stay?”
“I’d love you to. That…that was wonderful.” Sophie sounded teary.
“I thought it was too. Snuggle into me.”
Sophie’s burrowed in with a sniffle, and when her breathing slowed with sleep, Eleanor’s eyes drooped shut.
The first glow of dawn was just visible through the window when Eleanor awoke. For a second she wondered where she was, before the memories of the night flooded back. She tilted her head to look at Sophie. Naked, she was curled up against her back with only her legs covered by the sheet. She looked so enticing Eleanor was tempted to initiate another round of lovemaking. But she held back, she needed to think, to get her head around everything.
Where would they go from here? There was no pretending it had just been a night of sex. They both knew that it had been so much more. But in the light of day, she had to face reality. They hadn’t known each other long enough for a commitment. She had no idea how Sophie felt about it all. But then on the flip side, they had spent nearly seven weeks together twenty-four seven. Most couples who dated for months wouldn’t have shared so much time with each other.
But the big question was yet to be faced. Was she prepared to come out of the closet immediately once they left the island? If she were with Sophie, their relationship would be impossible to hide—she wouldn’t be able to keep her hands off her. And sh
e wouldn’t want to keep it a secret, for the last thing Eleanor wanted to do was skulk around again. She had had enough of living that way. But would Sophie be prepared to tell her family?
She dropped her eyes to the woman lying next to her. Though their night together would complicate things, Eleanor didn’t want her own insecurities to spoil what had happened. It had been the best night of her life. Sophie was everything she had ever wanted in a lover. She ran her hand through her hair, trying to rationalize things. Whether they liked it or not, there would be consequences if they rushed in too hard, too fast. Maybe it would be better to cool it for a while, though it would be difficult. Now she’d had a taste she wanted more. Oh dear God, did she want more! Her body fairly hummed.
With a sigh, she slipped out of bed and pulled on her crumpled tracksuit. If she stayed in the bed, she’d have to touch Sophie, and Ginny wouldn’t get her breakfast. After one last look at the sleeping, naked body, she crept out the door. Once in her own room, she stripped off and headed for the shower. The jets of water didn’t banish the hankering to replicate the night. With hands spread on the tiled wall, she let the spray wash over her. She began to tremble. The lingering desire was enough to set off whistles. It felt more like love than lust. Was she on the cusp of losing her heart?
Lover. She ran the word around in head, analysed it, found she liked the sound. Someone waiting for her at home, someone in her bed, someone to call her own. But did Sophie feel the same? Would she baulk at the thought of the press following her every move? The thought triggered a flood of unease. Being a private person, Sophie would hate the scrutiny of reporters, hate Merilee Watts poking into her life. Would she run away at the constant public exposure?
They had better talk about it before their romance went any further.
Sophie was at the kitchen stove when Eleanor wandered down an hour later. She looked up with a smile. “Hi, Ellie.”
