Turn Back Time

by Radclyffe

  Wynter heard the lingering desire in Pearce’s voice, but also the regret, and that frightened her. She couldn’t read Pearce well enough to know exactly what bothered her, but she didn’t want anything about what they shared to hurt her. “Should I apologize for kissing you like that?”

  “Jesus, no.” Pearce turned Wynter’s hand over between her own and kissed her palm before looking into her eyes. “Did I embarrass you with your sister?”

  “No,” Wynter said, smiling. “She’s dying of curiosity, but she’ll live.”

  Pearce’s brows knit together. “Curiosity.” Then came understanding, and she blushed. “You mean…she wants details?”

  “Of course. That’s what girls do when there’s a new hotty on the horizon.” Wynter couldn’t help but laugh at Pearce’s obvious discomfort. It made her all the more charming. “She called this afternoon to give me the third degree.”

  “Is she upset about you being interested in a woman?”

  There, Wynter thought, finally. She edged her chair around the table until she was sitting side by side with Pearce. Turning, she placed her free hand on Pearce’s thigh. “She was surprised. Not upset. Pretty much like me.”

  “She might change her mind when she’s had time to think about it.”

  “Pearce, my sister never really liked Dave, but she never said a word against him until she found out he was fooling around. Then she was all for flying up to New Haven and cutting his balls off.”

  “Good for her.”

  Wynter smiled. “She’s not going to have a problem with me seeing you.”

  “What about the rest of your family?”

  “You mean my parents?”

  Pearce nodded.

  “We’re Quakers. Personal choice and individual freedoms are very important to us. My parents will support whatever choices I make.”

  “Sometimes people aren’t so liberal when it’s close to home.”

  “I know.” Wynter caught a flash of some distant pain in Pearce’s eyes. Knowing that Pearce’s mother had died when Pearce was still a child, she realized it had to have been her father who’d put that sorrow there. She rubbed her hand up and down Pearce’s thigh in unconscious comfort. She was venturing into dangerous territory, considering that Ambrose Rifkin was her boss, and discussing him, even when it was personal like this, was probably not the wisest thing to do. But she didn’t care. She only cared about Pearce. “What happened?”

  Pearce jerked, startled from the unintended memory. “Let’s just say it wasn’t a smooth ride for a while.”

  “Your father was unhappy when he found out you were gay?”

  “He ignored it at first. I think he thought it would pass.”

  “How old were you when he found out?”

  “Sixteen.”

  “When did you know?” Wynter wondered what was wrong with her that she’d never even had an inkling that she could be attracted to another woman. Was she really that out of touch?

  “I started to think about it when I was twelve or thirteen, and by the time I was fifteen, I knew for sure. One of the nice things about going to a girls’ prep is there’s a lot of girls around.” Pearce grinned.

  “Oh, I bet you were dangerous then.” Wynter leaned forward and brushed a kiss over Pearce’s lips. “I bet you broke a lot of hearts.”

  The kiss was light, gentle, and Pearce felt its sweetness all the way through to her heart. Wynter had a way of making her feel so many things—poignant pleasure, wild passion, aching need. How could that be? How could one woman do that so effortlessly? When had anyone touched her that way?

  “Not so very many,” she murmured. She didn’t want to revisit the past. She wanted to feel what only Wynter had ever made her feel. She slipped an arm behind Wynter’s back and tugged her over into her lap. The slat-backed wooden chair creaked.

  “Hey,” Wynter protested with a laugh. “We’re going to end up on the floor.”

  “I’ll catch you if we do.”

  “Promises, promises.” But she wound her arms around Pearce’s neck and kissed her again. Kissing her was a banquet of delight, a feast that satisfied her in her deepest reaches while whetting her appetite for more. She cupped her hand on Pearce’s throat as she slid her mouth over Pearce’s lips, loving the slick heat and the racing pulse beneath her fingertips, glorying in Pearce’s excitement. She felt heady with power and kissed her harder, probing, reaching inside until she drew forth a groan. “I could kiss you forever,” she gasped.

  “I might go up in flames,” Pearce moaned, slipping both hands beneath Wynter’s shirt and onto her bare back. She smoothed her hands up and down Wynter’s spine, allowing herself that much and no more. She didn’t dare do anything else, because she knew she would never be able to stop. When Wynter shifted to straddle her on the chair, Pearce forced herself to keep her hands on Wynter’s back, even though Wynter’s breasts were so close, her nipples tight against the stretched cotton fabric. Wynter seemed to feel no such constraints, caressing Pearce’s neck, her shoulders, her chest. When her fingers skimmed Pearce’s nipples, Pearce jerked in the chair, her head falling back. “Don’t.”

  “Why?” Wynter whispered, rocking in Pearce’s lap, sucking the soft flesh at the base of her throat. “Why?”

  “Can’t stop again,” Pearce groaned. She caught Wynter’s hands and pulled them from her breasts. “I want you too much.”

  “No,” Wynter said fiercely, pulling Pearce’s hands to her own breasts and pressing them there. “Not too much. Never too much. Touch me.”

  Pearce felt Wynter’s nipples harden against her palms, sensed her breasts grow firm with arousal, heard the need in her voice. She couldn’t remember why she should hesitate. Wynter wanted her to touch her, and she ached to do it. She’d never hesitated before to take and give pleasure. She squeezed gently and Wynter moaned her name. That sweet sound broke her resolve. She would have what she’d hungered for all these weeks. Tightening her hold, she stood, fastening her mouth to Wynter’s neck as Wynter’s legs came automatically around her hips. She bit down gently until Wynter whimpered. She wanted to lay her down on the kitchen table and take her right there. She could feel the fire between Wynter’s legs through their clothes. She knew she could have her. One touch and Wynter would surrender. Right here. Right now.

  She pressed her mouth to Wynter’s ear. “I won’t make love to you like this. I want to make you come slowly the first time.”

  Wynter worried she might come just thinking about it. She’d never been so aroused in her life. She dug her fingers into Pearce’s shoulders. She wanted to scream, but could barely speak. “If you don’t put your hands on me soon, I think I might die.”

  “Can we go upstairs?”

  “Yes. Yes.” Wynter feared in another minute she wouldn’t be able to stand. “God, yes. Please. Now.”

  “What about Ronnie?”

  “What?” Wynter asked almost desperately, struggling to make sense of Pearce’s questions. “She sleeps soundly. She’ll be fine.”

  Pearce covered Wynter’s mouth in an urgent kiss, needing the taste of her to carry her until she could have more. Then she gently eased her down, keeping one arm around her waist. “Please, will you take me to your bed?”

  Wynter stroked her cheek, wondering why she felt tears threatening. She’d never felt anything as right as when she said, “Oh, yes. Yes, I will.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  The upstairs hallway was dark. Wynter and Pearce moved quietly with just the night-light in Ronnie’s room to guide them. Wynter led the way, holding Pearce’s hand. Out of habit, she paused in the doorway to Ronnie’s room and listened for her soft, regular breathing. After a second, she continued on, aware of Pearce just behind her, sensing the air around them scintillate with excitement. When she reached her bedroom, she pressed the dimmer switch and turned the light down until there was just enough illumination to maneuver by. She tugged Pearce over the threshold and quietly closed the door.

  “
What if she gets up?” Pearce murmured.

  Wynter pointed to the small receiver on her bedside table. “We’ll hear her.”

  “Handy.” Pearce pulled Wynter close and kissed her neck. She ran her hands rhythmically up and down Wynter’s back, their bodies melding as they swayed together in the near dark. “Sure about this?”

  “Yes.” Wynter gripped Pearce’s T-shirt and pulled it out of her jeans, then snaked her hands underneath. As she danced her fingers over Pearce’s stomach, she confessed, “I haven’t used the child monitor in over a year, but I hooked it up after I saw you this morning. Just in case I needed to close the door.”

  Pearce hissed in her breath at Wynter’s caress. “Pretty sure of yourself.”

  Wynter laughed and skimmed the undersurface of Pearce’s breasts with trembling fingers. “Just hopeful. God, can I touch you soon?”

  “Oh man,” Pearce groaned. “Anything you want.”

  “Oh,” Wynter breathed out, “I like the sound of that.”

  “Yeah?” Pearce claimed Wynter’s mouth again, walking her backward toward the bed while exploring the warm recesses with her tongue. Then, as quickly as she had claimed the kiss, she broke away. At Wynter’s muffled cry of protest, Pearce whispered, “No hurry, remember?” She thought back to her first time, and how the memory stayed with her always. But she’d been a teenager then, all raging hormones and desperate desire. Everything had been miraculous and mind blowing and she couldn’t touch everywhere fast enough. She and her girlfriend had fumbled and groped and crashed into orgasm almost by accident. This would be different. This would be her gift, to Wynter and to herself. “Watch.”

  “Wha—” The word died on Wynter’s tongue as Pearce gripped the bottom of her T-shirt and stripped it off along with everything beneath, baring her upper body. Her breasts glistened in the half-light, lifting and falling with her rapid breathing, nipples tight and beckoning. “Oh my God.”

  Pearce fingered the waistband of her jeans, watching Wynter’s face, pacing herself until any hint of shyness or discomfort in Wynter’s expression was eclipsed by desire. She unbuttoned her fly, one slow snick at a time. When Wynter stretched out a tentative hand toward her breasts, she shook her head. “Not yet. Not until we’re both naked. And I’m going to undress you next, so it will be a while.”

  “Just looking at you is making me nuts.” Wynter drew a ragged breath. “I’m going to fly apart.”

  “No,” Pearce said tenderly. “You won’t. Promise.” She pushed her jeans down, kicked off her boots, and stepped free of the tangle. If Wynter was like her, it would be easier to touch than to be touched, and she wanted this to be easy for her. For this time to be a wonderful memory. She reached for Wynter’s hands and drew them to her breasts. She shuddered, unprepared for her own response. At the first touch she closed her eyes and bit back a groan. When Wynter flicked her thumbs over her nipples, her knees nearly gave way. “Christ.”

  “You like that?” Wynter murmured thickly, entranced by the incredible softness, the unbelievable firmness, the enchantment of caressing her this way. She wanted to make her groan again. She wanted to make her scream; she wanted to do things for which she had no words. She captured both nipples and squeezed, laughing softly when Pearce jerked and grabbed her hands away. “You like it, don’t you?”

  “Too much,” Pearce gasped. “Makes me want to come.”

  Wynter’s eyes widened. “Could you?”

  “Not usually, but you do…unexpected…things to me.” Pearce held Wynter’s hands away from her body, not daring to be touched again so soon. She’d felt the first twitches of orgasm shimmer down her thighs. “But you’re getting way ahead of me. Let me undress you.”

  “Yes. Please.”

  Slowly, carefully, Pearce opened each button on Wynter’s shirt. When she parted the fabric a few inches and skimmed her fingertips just inside over the rise of Wynter’s breasts, Wynter rested both hands on Pearce’s forearms as if to steady herself. Pearce dipped her head and kissed between Wynter’s breasts. “Your skin’s so soft, so beautiful.” She fanned her fingers lower, just grazing the tips of Wynter’s nipples, eliciting a quiet whimper. When she cradled the soft weight of each breast in her palms and closed her fingers gently, Wynter sagged against her, her forehead on Pearce’s shoulder.

  “I don’t think I can go this slow,” Wynter gasped.

  “Yes, you can.” Pearce kissed her forehead. “I need you slow. Please.”

  Wordlessly, Wynter nodded, bracing herself with her hands on Pearce’s shoulders. She wanted Pearce to have whatever she needed. No matter what it took to bring her pleasure, she wanted to give it. “When can I touch you?”

  “Soon.” Pearce knelt and opened Wynter’s jeans. With her hands curled around the waistband, she pulled them down below Wynter’s hips, exposing her smooth abdomen and the top of each thigh. Encircling Wynter’s hips to support her weight, she kissed her stomach.

  “Oh!” Wynter’s thighs trembled, and she clamped both hands onto Pearce’s shoulders. She gripped harder as her knees threatened to buckle. When Pearce kissed her lower, brushing her lips just above the delta between her thighs, she insinuated the fingers of one hand into Pearce’s hair and stroked the back of her neck. When the barest hint of Pearce’s breath blew over her hypersensitive flesh, she moved Pearce’s face away.

  Pearce looked up, a gentle question in her eyes. “Wynter?”

  “I won’t be able to stand it.” Wynter caressed her cheek. “I’m afraid you’ll make me come right away.”

  “It’s all right?”

  Wynter laughed shakily. “Oh God, yes. But not yet.”

  “Sorry.” Pearce nestled her cheek against Wynter’s stomach and closed her eyes, breathing Wynter’s scent, waiting until her own restless need settled and she could start again.

  “Not sorry,” Wynter said thickly. “Never be sorry for wanting me.” She tilted Pearce’s face up to hers and waited until Pearce opened her eyes. “Finish undressing me. I want to lie down with you and feel you everywhere against me.”

  Tenderly, Pearce drew Wynter’s jeans down her legs and helped her out of her sneakers and clothing. Then she stood, amazed at her own weak legs, and using just the tips of her fingers, skimmed off Wynter’s blouse. When she’d finished, an inch of space separated their bodies. She lowered her gaze, heart pounding. Looking at Wynter’s body was like cresting a mountain and coming upon a vista that stretched until forever—incomprehensively beautiful, indescribably exquisite. Her vision blurred as a swell of desire rose so swiftly she lost her breath. She pulled Wynter to her and held her tightly, moaning as Wynter’s body met hers for the first time with no barrier between them. She ached and exalted at the pleasure.

  “Your skin is on fire,” Wynter marveled as she slid her palms down Pearce’s back. “Am I doing that to you?”

  Pearce laughed unsteadily. “Oh yeah. I’m just about gone here.”

  “Oh, I love the way you feel.” Wynter spun Pearce in a half turn and pulled her down to the bed. They landed facing one another, arms and legs entwined. She drew her thigh up until it was tight between Pearce’s legs. When she felt the hot sheen of Pearce’s arousal against her skin, she arched her back and cried out in surprise and wonder. “Oh my God. Oh my God. I never…” She framed Pearce’s face. “Is that for me?”

  “Unh, unh…” Pearce could barely think. The slide of Wynter’s skin over her hot and ready flesh was driving her too high too fast. She swore and flipped Wynter onto her back, easing away from the exquisite pressure. Her stomach tightened almost painfully and she groaned. “Damn it.”

  “What?” Wynter crooned, nuzzling Pearce’s neck. “Hmm, what?” But she knew. She’d felt the swift pulse of Pearce’s heart beating against her leg. She loved the way it felt. She loved knowing that Pearce trembled with desire for her. For her. “I want to make you come.”

  “Any more of that and you will.” Pearce gritted her teeth and forced herself to breathe past the need to sur
render.

  “Why are you holding back?” Wynter rolled her hips beneath Pearce’s and kissed her neck, tangling her hands in her hair. She slid her mouth along the edge of Pearce’s jaw and tugged at her lower lip with her teeth. “I can feel how close you are. It makes me crazy.”

  Pearce’s arms shook with the effort of supporting herself. “It’s your first time,” she gasped. “I want it to be special.”

  “Oh, honey,” Wynter murmured, “you make it special. It’s you. Don’t you know that?” She caressed her hand down the center of Pearce’s back and pushed her leg between Pearce’s thighs again, urging Pearce to ride out her passion. She pressed her mouth against Pearce’s ear. “Come on me. I know you need to. Please. Let me feel you come on me.”

  With a hoarse cry, Pearce buried her face in Wynter’s neck and let herself fall over the edge. She lost her breath, she lost control, she lost her mind. She shuddered and heard herself crying out and couldn’t stop. And while she shivered helplessly, Wynter cradled her in her arms and stroked her through the storm. When she finally could speak, she mumbled, “That was an accident.”

  Wynter laughed and held her fiercely. “Oh, I’ve never known anything so amazing as that.”

  Pearce eased onto her side and stared at Wynter through the receding mists of nearly unbearable pleasure. “It wasn’t what I planned.”

  Wynter kissed her. “You aren’t what I planned either.”

  “You mind?” Pearce slipped her hand between their bodies and circled her palm down the center of Wynter’s abdomen. She felt the muscles beneath her fingers tense and twitch and saw Wynter’s lips part on a gasp.

  “Not the tiniest bit. Pearce…”

  Pearce heard the urgency in Wynter’s voice as her fingertips brushed through moist curls. “Keep your eyes open.”

  Wynter caught her lower lip between her teeth. She held on to the steady, tender passion in Pearce’s eyes as her body tightened. At the first gentle stroke of Pearce’s finger over her clitoris, she arched her back and moaned helplessly.