Night Call

by Radclyffe

  “If I wanted you to touch me I would have said so.” Jett worked Tristan’s left arm free of her shirt, leaving it dangling from her other arm. “Now grab the railing behind you.”

  Tristan could barely think clearly enough to understand Jett’s words. Her body had been constantly stimulated for hours, and she’d been psychologically aroused for days on end. Every nerve in her body was firing erratically, and all she could think about was Jett touching her. But the second Jett did, she was going to lose it. “I need to slow down.”

  “No, you don’t.” Jett angled her thigh higher between Tristan’s legs, crushing Tristan’s clitoris against her pubic bone. “I know what you need.”

  Tristan groaned, the pressure nearly unbearable. She desperately needed to explode and she couldn’t with her clitoris so compressed. Mindlessly, she clutched Jett’s hips and tried to push her away. If she could just catch her breath, just get a little control. But she didn’t want to be in control. She thrust down on Jett’s leg, poised on a precipice—her head insisting she take charge, her body screaming for her to let go. “Please, I need to come and I—”

  “You think I don’t know that? You think I couldn’t see what you wanted all afternoon?” Jett jammed her leg higher and tighter, and Tristan cried out, more from surprise than pain. “Did you get yourself off while I wasn’t looking this afternoon?”

  “No,” Tristan gasped.

  “But you wanted to, didn’t you?” Watching Tristan’s eyes lose focus, watching her slide toward the edge, Jett punctuated each word with a hard thrust of her leg. “Didn’t. You. Tristan.”

  “Yes. Yes. Jesus. Yes.”

  “Now you’ll come when I say you will.”

  Tristan’s head was spinning. Spots danced in front of her eyes. She was right there. Right there. “Jett, I don’t think I can hold—”

  “When I say, Tristan.” Jett grabbed Tristan’s wrists and forced them behind her back. “Your hands. On the rail.”

  When Tristan gripped the wooden banister, her fingernails digging into the unpainted surface, Jett lifted her breasts in the palms of her hands and squeezed them together until the nipples almost touched. Whimpering, Tristan stared down at her stiff nipples as Jett sucked them both into her mouth. Jett’s face in the moonlight was stark and feral.

  “Bite them,” Tristan mumbled feverishly. Almost. Almost there.

  Jett sucked harder, working them in and out between her lips until Tristan was panting. Then she closed her teeth on one of the blood-engorged tips, pinched the other, and tugged.

  Tristan jerked and threw her head back, writhing in Jett’s grip. Her legs trembled wildly and only the weight of Jett’s body kept her upright. She drove her fingers into Jett’s hair, forcing Jett’s mouth harder against her breast. “Please, I can’t take—”

  Jett wrenched her face away. “You’ll take it. As long as I want you to take it. Now move your goddamn hand.”

  Reaching blindly behind her, Tristan felt the post and wrapped one arm around it. Just as she did, Jett dropped to her knees between Tristan’s legs and ripped open her fly. Tristan braced her legs wide apart and watched as Jett yanked her jeans down to her ankles. Her clitoris, released from the agonizing compression, instantly became fully engorged. The cool air streamed between her legs and teased her fevered flesh, the breeze a tantalizing caress over her erect clitoris. She held her breath, the muscles in her stomach like a board as Jett kissed low on her belly, moving languidly toward the tops of her thighs. Jett’s lips were wet and hot and Tristan couldn’t help thrust her hips. She heard her voice begging, kiss it, please kiss it, please kiss it, over and over, but she wasn’t aware of speaking. She couldn’t make the connection any longer between her mind and her body. All she knew was need.

  As if knowing Tristan couldn’t control her muscles any longer, Jett steadied Tristan’s hips against the railing with a hand on her hipbone and kissed her clitoris.

  “Oh fuck, Jett.” Tristan lifted her pelvis and Jett sucked her. Watching Jett’s lips move on her, Tristan pushed and pulled in and out of Jett’s mouth. “Here it comes.”

  Jett abruptly pressed one hand low on Tristan’s belly and grasped the base of her clitoris between her thumb and finger. She squeezed as hard as she could, preventing the nerves from discharging, blocking Tristan’s orgasm.

  “Please,” Tristan whimpered, her belly convulsing futilely. “It hurts.”

  “Breathe,” Jett said sharply, easing up with her fingers until Tristan’s clitoris surged outward even harder. Then she sucked the entire length into her mouth.

  Tristan felt as if she were turning inside out. Her legs gave way but she didn’t fall. Somehow Jett had braced one shoulder beneath her thigh, keeping her standing. She started babbling. “Coming. Coming. Coming in your mouth.”

  Jett squeezed, holding her off again. Tears ran down Tristan’s face and she clutched Jett’s head.

  “Please.”

  Jett replaced her fingers with her lips, sucking her while she wrapped both arms around Tristan’s hips. She kept up the on-again off-again squeezing and sucking until Tristan doubled over.

  “Can’t breathe,” Tristan gasped. “Need…need you.”

  Jett held her tightly and finished her.

  Tristan broke apart as a million volts of white-hot lightning erupted inside her, scorching her mind and soul. On some distant plane she was aware of her body writhing and jerking, of shouting incoherently, of collapsing into wordless sobbing. The last thing she registered was Jett gripping her fiercely in the curve of her body while the cataclysm raged on.

  *

  When Tristan came to, she was in bed and naked. And she was alone. She felt nearly bereft, as if her endless orgasm had hollowed her out and left her empty. The isolation was so devastating she literally sensed her heart about to stop.

  “Jett,” Tristan whispered brokenly.

  “I’m here, Tris,” Jett said out of the darkness.

  The bed dipped and then Jett was beside her. Desperately, Tristan pressed her face against Jett’s neck. “I thought…”

  “I know. I know what you thought,” Jett murmured, stroking Tristan’s hair. Despite Tristan’s half-conscious protests when they’d stumbled into the bedroom earlier, Jett wouldn’t lie down with Tristan after she’d gotten her undressed and into bed. She knew if she did she would want her again, and Tristan was in no shape for it. They’d both worked all night the night before, and Tristan had been through hell losing that baby. She didn’t need Jett making even more demands of her than she already had. But Jett hadn’t left her, and wouldn’t have, even if she had been able to find her way in the dark to some semblance of civilization. She’d left plenty of women in the middle of the night to awaken alone in the morning, but this was Tristan. No matter how Tristan might feel about her after what happened, Jett was going to stay and face her.

  So she’d pulled a chair over to the window and watched the night sky. She’d forgotten how pure and unsullied it could be when it wasn’t lit up by fire and bombs. With Tristan’s soft breathing in the background, she felt unexpectedly content, not the cranked-up, agitated way she often felt when she’d had some sex, but not enough sex. The pulse of arousal was a low-level hum in the background of her body and mind, but she didn’t feel the usual frantic need for more. As long as she kept some distance between them, she’d be all right.

  “Try to go back to sleep,” Jett said.

  “What the fuck did you do?” Tristan groaned.

  Jett felt just a little bit sick. “I’m sorry. I’m sorr—”

  “Sorry?” Tristan laughed weakly. “Jesus. I think I might have crossed over into another dimension.”

  Jett stilled. Tristan didn’t sound upset, but Jett was still prepared for the accusations. She hadn’t meant to take her so hard and for so long. She’d just wanted her so badly, she’d lost herself in the powerful currents of Tristan’s excitement. She should’ve known that would happen, because she’d been wanting her more and mor
e every day. “I didn’t realize you believed in that out-of-body sort of thing.”

  “I didn’t, before tonight. I didn’t even have a clue how much I wanted that.” Tristan tried to sit up but found that her arms and legs still weren’t working. She slowly began to sort out her surroundings as she got her mind and body back together again. “You still have your clothes on.”

  “It’s cooler up here than in the city, and I couldn’t find any wood for the fire.”

  “I take it I more or less conked out on you.”

  “You were a little tired.”

  Tristan snorted. “I can’t even remember getting in here, and it wasn’t because I was tired. I’ve never come like that before. I thought my flesh was going to peel off my bones.” She frowned. “Fuck. I left you hanging, didn’t I? Hell.”

  Tristan started to sit up and Jett stopped her.

  “Believe me,” Jett said, “if it was good for you, it was better for me. You didn’t leave me hanging.”

  Tristan didn’t look convinced. “Did you…you know? Handle things?”

  Jett smiled. Tristan talked so easily about things Jett had always kept secret. “Yeah. I did. It was about a five-second flash bang.”

  “Then I owe you big.”

  “No,” Jett said softly. “You don’t owe me anything at all.”

  “Why didn’t you get under the covers with me?” After a moment of silence, Tristan asked, “Jett?”

  “I wasn’t sure you’d want me to.”

  “Turn on the light.”

  “What?” Jett asked.

  “Turn on the light next to you, because I can’t reach it. In fact, I still can’t move,” Tristan said.

  Jett rolled over and fumbled on the bedside table until she found the pull chain for the old-fashioned brass lamp. The fabric shade with thin tassels along the edges cast a pale yellow glow over half the room and a portion of the bed. Cautiously, Jett eased back against the pillows, still mostly on top of the covers. She was barefoot but still wore her pants and shirt.

  Tristan propped herself up and began to open the buttons on Jett’s shirt with one hand. “In case you’ve forgotten,” she said conversationally, “I told you I wanted you to make love to me. If you thought I meant I wanted you to service me and then be on your way, I’m sorry I gave you the wrong impression.”

  “I didn’t think that.”

  “Then I’m confused as to why you’re not in bed with me.” Tristan opened Jett’s shirt and felt suddenly dizzy again. “Jesus, you have an amazing body.” She kissed Jett swiftly, then watched Jett’s face as she caressed her breasts. She smiled when Jett trembled. “You like that?”

  “Yes,” Jett whispered.

  Tristan bent her head and licked a nipple. “Just yes?”

  “Yes. A lot.”

  Tristan cupped Jett’s breast but no longer caressed her. She searched Jett’s eyes. They were murky and dark, troubled. “What do you think you might have done that I wouldn’t have wanted?”

  “You said I hurt you.”

  “No. I don’t remember exactly what I said, considering that I was losing my mind. But I think I said it hurts. It did.” Tristan grinned crookedly. “It hurt so fucking good I about came all over your hand a dozen times. Tell me you didn’t know that.”

  “I know what I made you do,” Jett said quietly. “That doesn’t mean you wanted it.”

  “Of course I wanted it. Did you hear me say no? Jesus Christ. Who fucked with your head like this?”

  Jett stiffened. “No one.”

  “Bullshit. Bullshit.” Tristan shook her head vehemently. “One of these days, one of these days, you’ll tell me. But not tonight.” She smoothed her hand down the middle of Jett’s belly and opened her pants. “Lift up, take these off.”

  Jett gripped Tristan’s wrist. “Tristan, it’s late. We should get some sleep.”

  “You think I’m going to leave it like this?” Tristan said sharply. “Without touching you? Without tasting you? You think all I wanted was to get off?”

  Jett knew once they started again she would need more, would end up taking more, and they wouldn’t sleep for the rest of the night. She was certain that Tristan would never let her own exhaustion prevent her from satisfying Jett, if she thought Jett needed it. “I’ve got to fly tomorrow night, Tristan.”

  “Fuck,” Tristan muttered. “I’m not on call again until Monday. I can go the rest of the night without sleep.” She brushed her fingers through Jett’s hair. “But you can’t. You have to be safe.” She rested her forehead against Jett’s. “Ah but Jesus, I want you so much.”

  Even in the soft light the deep circles beneath Tristan’s eyes were obvious, and despite her protests that she didn’t need sleep, her hands were shaking. Jett curled her arm around Tristan’s shoulder and pulled her down. “Would you mind if we just held each other?”

  “If that’s what you need, you got it.” Tristan rested her hand on Jett’s stomach and settled her head on Jett’s shoulder. “Okay?”

  “Yeah,” Jett said, amazed and perplexed because it was true. “Absolutely okay.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Jett woke with the dawn, as she did every day. This morning was completely different from any she could ever remember, because this morning she held Tristan in her arms. She lay on her side with Tristan curled in the curve of her body, her arm around Tristan’s waist and Tristan’s ass nestled against her pelvis.

  Tristan seemed so vulnerable in her sleep, and Jett wondered how she could be so trusting. She was humbled by Tristan’s trust, humbled and in awe. She didn’t think she could ever give up that much control, surrender so completely to the care of another. That Tristan did made Jett feel fiercely protective, and she held very still, not wanting to wake her. What she wanted was to absorb the feel of her, the scent of her, the taste of her. Carefully, she moved her lips to the back of Tristan’s neck and kissed the skin below her hairline, tasting salt and a surprising sweetness, like sun-warmed strawberries fresh off the vine. When Tristan sighed and caught Jett’s hand, drawing it to her breast, a shaft of pleasure hit Jett so hard she groaned. Then Tristan’s breathing deepened again, and Jett realized she had made the movement in her sleep.

  Nothing about being with Tristan was what she expected. She’d had women tease and taunt her until she made the first move, bearing responsibility for what they both wanted. She’d had women force her hands to the places that craved her touch and had women rake her flesh in the throes of orgasm until they drew blood, but she’d never had a woman reach for her in her sleep. Jett’s chest tightened as she softly, cautiously caressed Tristan’s breast, feeling Tristan’s nipple harden even as Tristan shifted restlessly and murmured under her breath. Jett abruptly stilled.

  Tristan turned onto her back, her gaze already eclipsed by desire. She hooked an arm around Jett’s neck, pulling her down for a kiss. “Why did you stop?”

  “I didn’t want to wake you.”

  Tristan raised an eyebrow. “Why not?”

  “You were sleeping,” Jett replied.

  “There’s a non sequitur in there,” Tristan muttered, rolling over onto Jett. She slid her leg between Jett’s and braced herself on her elbows, a hand on either side of Jett’s head. She combed her fingers through Jett’s hair. “But I don’t feel like figuring it out right now.” She kissed her again, longer this time, exploring in a way she hadn’t been able to the night before when Jett had taken her so completely. Jett tensed beneath her, hard muscles quivering, and Tristan feasted on the power of exciting her. “You’re so fucking sexy.”

  “Tris,” Jett whispered, partly in wonder and partly in need. She’d slept, but restlessly, her body sending mixed signals of satisfaction and lingering arousal. Once she’d touched herself, squeezing her turgid clitoris, and cutting points of pleasure had shot through her. But she hadn’t wanted to finish, preferring instead to tease herself while remembering Tristan surrendering in her mouth. Recalling it now, she shuddered.

  �
�Baby,” Tristan murmured. “Baby, what do you need?”

  “Anything,” Jett whispered, reaching for Tristan’s hand.

  Tristan laced her fingers through Jett’s, gripping her fingers tightly. “Tell me what you don’t want me to do.”

  “Nothing,” Jett said, arching into her. “There’s nothing I don’t want you to do.”

  “That’s good.” Tristan eased to one side so she could run her fingers down the center of Jett’s stomach. “Because I want to do everything.”

  Jett kept her eyes on Tristan’s as Tristan slid her fingers between her legs. Jett’s lips parted on a silent moan, and Tristan’s eyes shifted from blue to deep purple. Tristan’s satisfaction was Jett’s greatest pleasure, even now.

  “You’re so hard,” Tristan murmured. “Have you been like this all night?”

  “Yes,” Jett whispered.

  “Baby.” Tristan kissed her, harder, catching Jett’s lip between her teeth, sucking as she gently rolled Jett’s clitoris between her fingers. “You should’ve let me do this last night.”

  “You’re doing it now.” Jett panted, trying and failing to control herself as Tristan’s practiced strokes worked her closer and closer to coming. She grabbed Tristan’s hand.

  “Too hard?”

  “No,” Jett gasped. “You’re going to make me come.”

  Tristan laughed, picking up speed. “And the problem is?”

  Jett groaned, her hips lifting and circling of their own volition, chasing the sweet relief Tristan’s caresses promised. “Ruins…my reputation.”

  “I’ll never tell.” Tristan watched Jett’s eyes roll back. Jett was right on the edge, and Tristan wanted to satisfy her. But she wanted so much more. She wanted to imprint her touch on Jett’s mind, on her body, on her soul, and the force of her desire frightened and confused her. She relaxed her grip and slowed her strokes.

  “Oh God,” Jett moaned. “Tris…”