by Julie Cannon
“Oh, God.” Leigh could barely speak. Her breathing was too fast, and she was light-headed. She pulled Peyton back to her for another searing kiss. Their lips had barely touched when Peyton slid her fingers into her. Leigh’s climax roared through her almost before she knew it was coming.
Her head started to clear, and Leigh knew Peyton was beside her. Her breathing was still coming quickly, but her ears were no longer ringing. She could feel Peyton’s heart beating hard and fast, her own breath shallow.
Leigh rolled on top of Peyton and slid her thigh between her legs. Peyton moaned and pulled her closer. It was Leigh’s turn to worship Peyton’s body, and she took her time doing so. She slid her lips and tongue down Peyton’s neck, enjoying the taste of her. She sucked on the throbbing pulse point, and Peyton tugged on her hair.
“Touch me,” Peyton said breathlessly.
“Patience,” Leigh whispered in her ear an instant before nipping her earlobe.
“I don’t have any.” Peyton tightened her legs around Leigh, rocking against her.
Leigh dropped her head and lightly bit one of Peyton’s hard nipples. The stronger she sucked, the faster Peyton rocked against her. She slid her fingers between them, and Peyton gasped in pleasure, quickening her pace.
Leigh had to have more. She needed to feel Peyton’s flesh around her fingers, feel it pulsate in orgasm. Leigh shifted, and her fingers found what she needed. She rubbed Peyton’s clit with her thumb, and Peyton came in her hand.
* * *
“I love your tatt,” Peyton said, commenting on the tattoo she was finally able to look at without fear of getting caught. It featured a woman on a motorcycle, her hair cascading out of her helmet. They were in Peyton’s bed, the ceiling fan cooling their heated bodies after hours of lovemaking.
“My mother practically killed me when she saw it. I was seventeen and used my sister’s ID.”
“Did your sister get in trouble?” Peyton warmed, thinking about Leigh doing something so naughty.
“No. She had no idea I took it. She was at the movies with her boyfriend, and I snagged it out of her purse. I thought my mom would have a stroke. Of course, by then it was too late, and she couldn’t do anything about it. She grounded me until I was eighteen. Longest eight months of my life. I lost my girlfriend and spent the entire summer in the library.”
“You had a girlfriend at seventeen?”
“Of course I did. I’d had several by then,” Leigh said somewhat proudly. “How old were you when you had your first?”
“My first or my first girlfriend?”
“Is there a difference?”
“No. Fifteen.”
“Fifteen? You were fifteen?” Leigh tried to wiggle out of Peyton’s arms. Peyton pulled her tighter.
“Yes. I was fifteen. She was seventeen, and I was in love. Actually, it was simply lust, but I thought it was love at the time.”
“What happened?”
“She graduated and went to Vassar.”
“Vassar? The all-girl’s college?”
“Yep. I’m sure she was like a kid in a toy store. Kim could be quite charming when she wanted to be.”
“Vassar is a women’s college, not a lesbian college.”
“I know that, but Kim was determined to sleep her way through as many as she could.”
“What happened to her? Did you two keep in touch?”
“No. She walked across the graduation stage that hot summer night and kept walking. She never looked back. I was devastated.” Peyton put her hand over her heart dramatically. “She took my virtue, my innocence, and my belief in happily-ever-after.”
“You seem to have recovered nicely,” Leigh said when it was obvious Peyton was joking.
“I did, didn’t I? You can thank Kim for that thing I did to you earlier. The one when you begged me not to stop.”
Leigh’s pulse started racing, and her stomach flipped at the memory. She rolled on top of Peyton. “Remind me again exactly what that was.”
Peyton’s eyes turned dark, and she did as she was told.
Chapter Twenty-five
Peyton sat in front of the driveway of a modest ranch with a neatly trimmed front yard complete with a few trees and a blooming flowerbed adjacent to the front door. She glanced at the clock on the dash. Leigh was fifteen minutes late from the time Peyton had told her she’d pick her up for dinner. She looked up as Leigh’s truck turned into the drive and pulled into the garage. Her motocross bike was secured in the bed. Leigh got out of the driver’s side and hurried over to Peyton’s truck.
“I’m so sorry,” Leigh said quickly. She was still in her riding clothes, her face smeared with dirt, her hair a mess.
Peyton thought she looked nothing short of beautiful, just like she had lying naked in her bed a few days ago.
“One of the guys took a spill, and we had to get his gear packed up.”
“Is he okay?” Peyton asked, opening her own door and getting out.
“He’ll be okay. He banged up his shoulder so he was pretty worthless. Come in. I’ll take a quick shower and just be a minute.”
Peyton followed Leigh through a neat, clean garage and quickly found herself inside a brightly lit foyer.
“The living room is straight ahead, the kitchen, through there.” Leigh pointed to their left. “Help yourself to anything and make yourself at home.”
Their eyes locked, sharing the memory of what came after Peyton had said the same words. “I’ll be just a minute.”
The living room was a splash of color, with a red leather couch, a navy side chair, and two walls painted a bold shade of green. The shutters were bright white. No magazines lay on the coffee table; instead were three file folders with labels containing a variety of acronyms she didn’t understand. She passed through to the kitchen and, along with a few dishes in the sink, found equal amounts of color. Leigh’s house was comfortable and lived in. It breathed life.
Peyton wandered past the kitchen into a small dining room and an office with a laptop and a very large monitor. Several books and a few papers were strewn across a large wooden desk.
Peyton returned to the living room, passing the door that Leigh had disappeared through earlier. The door hadn’t fully latched and had swung open. Peyton took a few tentative steps forward, stopping in the doorway to Leigh’s bedroom. The bed wasn’t made, one side still neatly tucked, pillows in place. A shaft of jealousy shot through Peyton as she thought of someone else on the other side, the covers a tangled mess.
She turned at movement she caught out of the corner of her eye. Leigh stood there in nothing but a very, very short yellow towel, another wrapped around her head.
A thousand thoughts raced through her mind. Leigh was three steps away, more skin showing than covered. Leigh was looking at her with an intensity both exhilarating and frightening. Fraternization was frowned upon at the club. Marcus had gone out on a limb for her by giving her a job. She couldn’t throw away Marcus’s trust and her integrity for a quick tumble in the sheets, but then again she already had.
She wanted Leigh, more than she’d wanted anyone before. She was smart, quick-witted, and laughed easily. She was absolutely stunning and took her breath away. She had to have her, touch every inch of her skin, feel every muscle tighten and twitch under her fingers, taste her.
Peyton didn’t question her visceral reaction to Leigh; it was too much to think about. She had never wanted anyone as much as she wanted Leigh, and for once, she refused to stop and analyze her desire. Before she could utter any protest, Leigh dropped her towel and walked toward her, unwinding the towel from her wet hair and dropping that too onto the floor. She didn’t stop until she wrapped her arms around Peyton’s neck and pulled her into a searing kiss.
Just as before, Leigh’s kiss instantly turned explosive. Her mouth was hot, her tongue demanding access to explore. Peyton’s arms instinctively wrapped around Leigh and started their own exploration of her soft skin. After several moments, Leigh shifted her a
ttention to Peyton’s neck.
Peyton felt the cool air brush against her back as Leigh unbuttoned her shirt and pulled her undershirt over her head. The sensation of Leigh’s hands on her was overwhelming.
“God, you feel good,” Leigh said, her warm breath caressing Peyton’s neck.
The words made her nipples tight, the huskiness causing shivers to dance across her skin. Desperate for something to steady her, Peyton held on to Leigh’s hips.
Leigh squeezed her nipples, and Peyton arched her back. Leigh alternatively nipped and kissed at the sensitive skin on her breasts. When she took her nipple into her mouth, Peyton thought her knees would buckle.
“I can’t stand up much longer if you keep doing that.”
“You are so beautiful,” Leigh said, mumbling against her breast.
Peyton ran her hands through Leigh’s hair, gripping it to hold her mouth right where it was. She felt agony and ecstasy simultaneously and didn’t want this tantalizing woman to stop.
“Leigh,” she said, swaying on her feet.
Leith took her hand and led her the few steps to the bed. She pulled down the comforter and sheets in one motion, and suddenly Leigh was on top of her.
Peyton’s body heated everywhere Leigh touched her, and the throbbing between her legs pounded for release. Leigh’s hands and mouth explored every inch of her, and Peyton silently begged for release. It had been a long time since she’d given someone such free access to her. Peyton wanted Leigh everywhere, wanted to feel the pressure of her fingers, the skipping of her fingers over her skin, her hot mouth on her again. She wanted to feel Leigh’s weight on her, her arms and legs wrapped around her, holding her tight as she came. And she wanted, no, needed to come hard, to lose control, to lose herself. To see nothing but stars and the woman on top of her. She wanted to forget where she was, what day it was, and what was waiting for her. She wanted to feel completely alive again. Peyton needed to feel nothing but Leigh inside her, taking her to that place where nothing else mattered but nerve endings alive with pleasure.
When she couldn’t take it anymore she said, “Leigh, touch me. Please.”
Peyton had no more pride, no inhibition, no strength. She needed this. Needed Leigh like she had never needed anyone before. She needed to release herself in the safety of Leigh’s arms.
“Look at me. Peyton, look at me.”
Leigh’s voice penetrated the overwhelming haze of desire and sensation. The instant Leigh touched her, Peyton exploded, her body awash in pleasure. Higher and higher she climbed until suddenly there was nothing.
* * *
“How did you get this?” Leigh lightly traced the scar on her face. Instead of the question embarrassing her and making her try to hide it, Leigh’s touch soothed her. It was dark, but the light coming in from Leigh’s window was enough to see by.
“A minor skirmish” was all she said. No way was she going to tell Leigh that one of her fellow inmates hadn’t liked the way she looked at her and had come after Peyton with a shank.
“Looks a little more than minor to me.” Leigh kissed her cheek, tracing the line with her mouth.
“No plastic surgeons on call that night,” Peyton said sarcastically. She’d stopped lamenting the inferior treatment of her cut years ago and didn’t want this line of questioning to go much further.
“And this?” Leigh asked, picking up her hand and kissing the misshapen pinkie on her left hand.
“Same skirmish.”
“Hmm,” Leigh mumbled, licking Peyton’s finger sensually. “Remind me never to get in a skirmish with you.”
The beginnings of arousal kicked in again. Had it ever gone away? “You make it feel better when you do that.” She moved her legs back and forth restlessly on the sheet.
“Hmm,” Leigh said again, sliding Peyton’s finger slowly out of her mouth. “Any other injuries you’d like me to kiss and make you feel better?”
Leigh’s eyes were hot with desire and sparkling with mischief. Peyton had a hard time forming a sentence.
“Kim did break my heart,” Peyton said, catching on.
Leigh slowly kissed and licked a trail up Peyton’s arm, across her shoulder and collarbone, and down her chest, finding just the right spot where her heart had been broken years ago.
Leigh’s mouth was warm and wet, her teeth nipping her breast and nipple. Peyton grabbed her hair, holding her head in place until she almost couldn’t stand it anymore.
“I had my appendix out.”
“Yes, you did. I saw that,” Leigh said, shifting her attention farther south. “How old were you?”
“Six.”
Leigh stopped kissing her and looked up. “Six?”
“It hurt. I was a kid,” Peyton said, a slight pout on her lips.
Leigh kissed the very, very faint scar and said, “You poor baby in that big, scary hospital bed.”
“I have cramps once in a while.”
Leigh laughed. “Now?”
“No. Not now,” Peyton said quickly, afraid Leigh would stop. “But sometimes.” She tried to look convincing. She’d never had more than a twinge or two during her period.
“The curse of being a…” Leigh hesitated just above Peyton’s pubic bone. “A woman.” She lowered her head and placed her lips right where Peyton needed them.
“God, that feels good.” Peyton’s mind had turned to mush minutes ago, and she couldn’t think of another, more descriptive word to describe the way Leigh made her body sing.
“Feels pretty good on this end too,” Leigh said before going back to work soothing all of Peyton’s aches and pains.
Chapter Twenty-six
“She what?”
Peyton sat up so quickly, Leigh almost tumbled to the floor. They were lying on Peyton’s couch, limbs still tangled from their almost unquenchable desire for each other. Leigh had stopped by to pick up Peyton to take her to dinner a few nights later, and one thing had quickly led to another, as it always did when they were together. This time they had made it only as far as the couch before they were naked.
“Where is she?” Peyton asked, frantically looking for her clothes. Leigh got up and helped her. She had no idea who was on the other end or what “she” had done, but Peyton was obviously upset.
“I’ll be right there.” Peyton hung up the phone and stepped into her shorts. “I’m sorry. I’ve got to go.”
“Is everything okay?” Leigh asked when Peyton didn’t give any further explanation. It was obvious she wasn’t planning to, but Leigh was curious as to what had caused such a reaction.
“It will be.” Peyton didn’t say any more as she pulled her shirt over her head and stuffed her feet into her shoes. She stuck her socks in her pocket and headed toward the door.
Leigh was shocked at her abrupt departure and bent to pick up her own clothes.
Peyton stopped before she got to the door, turned, and hurried back to her. “I’m sorry I’ve got to go,” she said, a little calmer than she had the first time she said it. “I’ll call you later, okay? Lock up when you leave. No hurry.” She quickly kissed Leigh, spun around, and went out the front door.
Leigh heard Peyton’s tires squeal as she backed out of her driveway, leaving Leigh alone in Peyton’s apartment. Her skin still tingled where Peyton had touched her, still hummed with contentment. Her limbs were loose, her mind clear. Good sex really did clear your head, she thought. She knew she should leave, but an overwhelming opportunity to learn more about Peyton overruled propriety.
Leigh wandered around the apartment, touching a few things but making note of everything. One of the initial things Leigh noticed the first time she was here was the abundance of color. The walls were painted varying shades of bold colors, the furniture fabric and draperies the same. She’d been too busy envisioning Peyton naked in the shower to pay much attention to the decor.
Large, abstract paintings covered the walls, mixed in with framed photographs. Leigh stepped closer and saw recent pictures of Peyton with an ol
der couple, all three beaming for the camera. She picked up a frame showing Peyton with Marcus and another woman. A flash of jealousy shot through Leigh, and she quickly put the picture back in its place.
Peyton had an eclectic array of books on the shelves that ran floor to ceiling on the far wall. A quick glance identified the latest best sellers from several popular, main-stream authors, at least a dozen biographies, and more than a handful of nonfiction books about the Civil War and World War I. But it was the thin books that caught her eyes.
Leigh ran her fingers over the well-worn spines, recognizing the titles of some of her favorite lesbian fiction. Forrest, Kallmaker, Carr, Fletcher, Taite, Radclyffe, and many more were lined up neatly according to author. Every genre was accounted for, and Leigh was more than a little impressed. She pulled one out and opened the cover.
A newspaper clipping fell out and floated to the floor. Leigh picked it up and saw a photo of a much younger Peyton in a tuxedo, smiling and holding an enormous trophy. Leigh’s ever-present arousal when she thought of Peyton kicked up a notch. Standing in her living room completely naked was slightly naughty and sensuous and added to her arousal. She read the headline under the picture:
Peyton Broader Does It Again!
Peyton Broader, 20, won her third consecutive NCAA golfer of the year title last night in a star-studded gala hosted by ESPN. The black-tie event was held at the posh Julian Hotel in New York, and over three hundred of the nation’s finest men and women collegiate athletes were in attendance.
Leigh read the rest of the short article and placed it back inside the book. She must have been using it as a bookmark, the age of the article and the book an indication. She put the book back in its spot on the shelf. A warmth flowed through her veins as she looked around the small, neat room. This is where Peyton lived, where she slept, watched television, and ate breakfast. She pictured Peyton doing everyday mundane tasks like folding clothes, taking out the garbage, packing her lunch, and opening her mail.
