Her Hometown Girl

by Lorelie Brown

  I’m practically dizzy with so much want. I hardly know what to do with myself. This isn’t like me. I always had to be coaxed before, nudged out of my shell and told what to do next. I had vague want and they filled in the pieces.

  This time I know I need to taste Cai. I need to lick her clit and feel her wetness slide over my chin more than I need to breathe.

  I put my hand out to the wall. It’s cool to the touch, which manages to center me a little bit.

  Cai steps under the water fall like a queen, with her shoulders held back and her spine so straight that I can read the words inked there. In Memoriam, 1976–1996. That must be her sister. Only twenty. That would have been so horrific on every level.

  The water pours over Cai’s hair, locking the strands into a thick hank. It hits her angle-sharp shoulders next and casts off into open space before the next rush of water curves lovingly over the tops of her arms. She turns her face up to the spray and lifts her hands to her hair.

  She’s a Degas statue with one knee lifted and the near backwards curve of her other leg. The shadow of hair over her vagina makes her into even more of a mystery. My fingers scrabble for purchase on the wall, but there’s nothing but the barest gap. I touch rock instead of her flesh.

  It’s killing me. I can’t look away from her, but she told me to wait, and I don’t think I was supposed to look away anyway. I don’t want to. I want her.

  I open my mouth to speak, then bite down on the tip of my tongue because I can’t think of any words that are as perfect as she looks.

  I wish I was an artist. A painter, a sculptor. Anything that could even try to capture her beauty.

  A drop of glimmering water breaks free of the sheet across her shoulder and slides down its own path. I wonder how that works, what brief break of skin and hair and magic can release a single drop from the mass of the rest. I could chase that path with my tongue. I will if given a chance.

  She takes her time looking through my small selection of toiletries. When she opens the cap of my conditioner and smells it, she looks back at me. “So this is why you smell like cotton candy.”

  My cheeks steal heat from the throb between my thighs. “My body wash is really sweet too. Is that bad?”

  “No.” It’s only one word, but I know just from the way she says it that it’s more than that. She loves the way I smell. “It makes me want to eat you up.”

  My fingers are shaking. Some women would have a sophisticated response to that. I squeak, “Okay.”

  She grins, then turns back to the spray. It’s strange to watch a new woman wash. She goes in a different order than I do, soaping up her body before washing her hair. In the steamy heat of the room, I can’t remember what Jody did, and I can’t bring myself to care in the least. This is about Cai. This is what I’m making with Cai.

  It’s not long before she’s clean and smelling as sweet as I normally do. I grab a towel from the basket and hold it open. She steps into the curve of my attention, and I’m confused for a moment when she doesn’t take it for herself. She only watches me with a small smile curving her soft mouth.

  I dry her off with tender pats over every inch of her. Her shoulders and back are easy. I circle her to get everything. She’s lean all over, and a small striation dives from the side of her waist toward the front of her stomach. I’m breathing in choppy bursts through my parted lips. I wonder if she can feel my air and the way she owns it all.

  I fold to my knees to dry her toned calves. Even with the shaggy gray bathmat, the floor is hard and I still don’t care. When I take the towel up between her thighs, I can’t keep my shaking hidden. I think she likes it. Her eyes smolder.

  Her hand comes to rest on my head. It’s the lightest weight of fingertips and a strand or two of my flyaway hair caught on her nails. My heart tumbles and lifts at the same time. I try to squeeze my thighs together against the delicious ache between them, but it’s not nearly enough.

  “Would you lick my pussy here?” Her hand moves over the crown of my head. I’m torn between letting my eyes flutter shut and making sure they stay peeled open so I don’t miss a moment of this. “It’s got to hurt your knees, doesn’t it?”

  “I would.” I don’t want to talk about the hurt, about the small part of me that might like it that way. This is so strange and different and amazing all at once. The pain would cement the difference, make sure I didn’t mistake this time with Cai for anything else I’ve had before.

  What the last time was like.

  I wasn’t there last time. The way my knees are grinding keeps me present. I like it that way. I don’t want to get lost somewhere else.

  She watches me as hard as I watch her. It’s like she’s trying to crawl inside my brain. I only want to show her certain parts. The rest of it would change this moment. So I lean forward and press my lips to the small knob of her pelvic bone.

  Her skin is thinner than satin and smoother than silk. I taste clean, soft water. It’s hard, but I don’t immediately dive in to tasting her center. She hasn’t given me permission. Instead I kiss a line of worship from her hip to her knee, sinking farther back into my position until my bum is on my heels and my head is fully bent before her. I hold her calf and rest my forehead against her knee. She’s sharp and soft at the same time.

  “Tell me what to do.” I finally close my eyes. If I’m holding on to her, I know where I am. “Tell me. Please.”

  Tansy

  For a long, heartbreaking moment, I worry that she’s going to pull back from me. I’ve pushed things too far and asked for too much. My life is a chain of moments where I’m always too much or not enough.

  But then her touch slides from my head to the top of my neck. She twines her fingers through my hair, not quite gathering a ponytail of it, but instead making it hers. Owning me by way of her grip on my curls. I shiver. She twists tighter. The kiss of pinch across my scalp centers me right where I am. “Do you often play this way?”

  I shake my head even though it makes my scalp hurt. Maybe because of it, exploring the resistance. “Never.”

  “Then I need to lay this out: do you want me to be in charge?”

  I want her to be in charge of all of me, but I know I can’t ask for that. And maybe when I come out of this haze right here, the mysterious waves of desire throbbing through me, I’ll get over that too. But for right now this feels momentous. “I do.”

  The vows I didn’t say two months ago. I make a noise and bury my face against her thigh. She’s too skinny to hide me, so instead I pull some of her strength into myself.

  “Do you want to serve me?”

  “I do.” The tips of my breasts are so hard they’re tingling. I don’t think I could want anything else more. Every bit of me is right here, curled up against her leg like a toy. Like a pet. I’m her servant. Even the fact that she’s naked and I’m clothed doesn’t matter. The skirt I’d had to tie up to ride her motorcycle now pools around our feet, and it’s just another way we’re linked together.

  Her hand clenches in my hair. It’s a promise and a response all at once. I need it; I need to know how much she needs me. “You’re a good girl. Such a sweet angel.”

  The words unlock a part of me that’s been lonely for so long. The back of my eyes sting and prickle with tears. I don’t want to cry. This isn’t a crying time.

  I press my lips against the side of her knee instead. The skin there is more like the delicate web over her hip bone rather than what’s at the front of her knee. I dart a lick in order to taste the difference. She’s the pale nothing taste of water. I need something more than that. I nuzzle my way upward.

  She’s standing with her feet only a little bit apart. I kiss my way up her thighs. She’s not stopping me. Every half inch makes my mouth water a little more. The tops of her thighs are dusted with fine dark hair as soft as baby’s breath. It tickles over my parted lips.

  I’m only one more kiss away from her pussy when her grip on my hair twists tight. I whimper. Holy crud, I actuall
y make an involuntary whimper. I crave her that badly. If she’s wet, if I lick between her lips, then I’ll know that she’s here as much as I am.

  She jerks my head so that I’m looking up at her. The shift in perspective is dizzying. “Your word is banana,” she says.

  I only blink, then lick my bottom lip. I’m distracted by the artful droop of her breasts from this angle. They’re small, but from here I see nothing but their curve and the dark brown of her nipples. They’re so hard that her areola have all but disappeared, clenched into nubs that I want to suck on. “What?”

  “If you need anything to stop, or even slow down a little bit.” She’s breathing hard enough that I watch her chest rise and fall. “Your safeword is banana.”

  I can’t imagine how I’d need a safeword just for finally being able to do what I’ve desired for so long. But she called me a good girl and I don’t want to ruin that. “Okay.”

  Should I add some title to the end of that? Ma’am doesn’t feel right, but using her name feels almost weirdly intimate. Like we’d be on an even ground that I don’t want right now. I settle for stupidly repeating myself.

  She doesn’t seem to mind. Her feet shift wider, moving her legs apart, keeping her grip on my hair. I test her, trying to look away from her gaze, but she doesn’t let me go. I think I like it this way. I want to see her, to taste her and feel her under my tongue, but I want it on her terms. Everything is safer that way.

  Her scent rises to me. My mouth waters. I feel a surge of heat in my own pussy, and I’m startled to be reminded of my active desire for sex. This isn’t all about what I want to do to her. How strange and beautiful.

  “Describe what you’re going to do.”

  “I’m going to give you oral sex.”

  She giggles, a husky laugh. I blush, and I’d look away from her, but I can’t. Not with the way she’s holding me. Suddenly I feel the pain spiking up from my knees.

  “You’re so fucking cute,” she says, and the pain goes away.

  I want to hear more, but I don’t know how to ask. I cycle through five different ways to phrase it before settling on the simplest. Maybe it won’t sound egotistical. Maybe it will and I’ll see a disappointed flash in her eyes. I risk it. “Why?”

  “Because even now you don’t say it the dirty way. You’re going to eat me out.”

  “I am,” I agree. But I don’t think I can say it on my own.

  “I like it.” She traces a single fingertip over the curve of my cheek. “You’re so pure. An innocent.”

  It’s the first thing said that makes me want to pull away. But with the way she’s holding me, I can only drop my gaze to her navel. “I’m not.”

  “You are.”

  “There’s things …” Things that happen in the night, with only my cat watching and the dark not protecting me. The smell of a couch that I’d eaten pizza and watched movies on. The life that I used to have coming apart at the seams. “‘Innocent’ is for kids.”

  “No, not always.” She tickles a circle across my temple that makes me shiver. “Sometimes it’s about what’s in here.”

  “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “Fine.” And, instantly, I can feel the backing off in the air. She means it. She’s not hiding bullets behind her back.

  I could get drunk on this woman. “May I?”

  I wonder if she’s going to make me say it. If she’ll take perverse pleasure in having me ask in a naughty way. I could do it, if that’s what she wanted, but I turn dirty words over in my mind and I don’t think I’d have any excitement from them. They’re only words that I’ve trained myself not to use. I don’t think it matters that much, not really.

  But she doesn’t. “You may.”

  Two simple words. I suck in a breath of joy that’s thick with her musky scent. I lean forward the few, bare inches needed, and my knees rotate on the mat, and I don’t care at all at the jolt that runs through me. I have my purpose.

  I press a close-mouthed kiss to the curls that protect her still-closed body. My mouth comes away wet with her slickness. I lick my lips and want more. She tastes fantastic. A little salty, just slightly tart.

  The hand I have at her knee slides up and up, and then I have a grip on the swell of her ass. There I find more of her hidden softness. I feel like I’m grasping for a life raft rather than holding her still. I’m not the one in charge here.

  I lick her with the flat of my tongue. Her hair abrades me, then she opens, and I’m deep in her taste and, goodness, it’s good. Oh, it’s so good. My eyes close. My nose is against her body. My mouth is open on her. I’m doing my best to bury myself in her. To lose myself in this act.

  It’s so right, and it only gets better when she moans. It’s the time I shove my tongue against her clit that makes another sound come from her, so I do it again. Then again.

  She parts her legs further, which gives me more room and also brings her down an inch or two closer to me. I take and take. She is so wet, it rolls down my chin. I lick her inside and out and over again. It’s an eternity in the best kind of way, where time spools and unwinds.

  At some point I lose track of what it is that gets the best sounds from her. I spend my time in exploration for the pure greed of it. I want to know the inside of her thighs, where the muscles twitch and tendons shift. I need to feel her from the inside out when I push my tongue deep in her. It’s my own cravings that make me suck her clit between my lips and flick it.

  Cai holds my head between both her hands. I know if I try to pull away she wouldn’t let me, but she’s not hurting me either. “You’re hella fucking good at that, you know.”

  I didn’t know that. Am I actually good or are these the sweet words that come on the crest of an orgasm? I know Cai is looking at me, not through me. She knows who it is kneeling before her. She’s here with me.

  My hands clench tight on her butt. Please don’t leave me, I want to say, so I write the words against her flesh instead. I would give you everything. I didn’t think I could be this person again so quickly. My neediness must be a weight. I give her more sensation instead. My chin rubs against her gate while I carve patterns against her swollen, hot clit.

  I lift up on my knees on purpose. They hurt. They sting. I drive the pain into my bones at the same time I lick Cai from the bottom to the tops of her lips.

  Cai pushes her hands into my hair and scoops it up. Air flows across my bare neck, and it’s surprisingly cold. I jolt toward her. Cai scrapes her nails across my bare shoulders. She goes lightly at first, and it doesn’t hurt. The repetition over the same path begins to sting. She doesn’t move her track. I don’t stop what I’m doing.

  She might mark me. I don’t care.

  She catches the top of my blouse, dragging it across my skin and getting tangled in a way that she can’t scratch me to her satisfaction. She flicks the strap. “Take this off.”

  I whimper and push my face into her body until my lashes brush against her pubic hair. I keep licking. I don’t want to stop.

  She catches my hair and twists. “I said take it off. Your shirt first. Grab the hem and pull it over your head. Next you’ll push down your skirt.”

  I look up, up her body, and she’s watching me with narrowed eyes that are so fucking hot. She liked my defiance, I think, but she likes even more that she can still tell me what do to.

  I am so fucking relieved to not have to guess, even down to the how. It strips away my fear of screwing up. I obey.

  Obey.

  The echo pings around my head, but at the same time I’m newly naked before her.

  I completely ease into my folded position so that my butt is back on my heels. It gives momentary respite to my knees. I don’t know what it says about me that I’m not sure I want that.

  This is a pose I’ve never tried before. She doesn’t know it, but this is a thing that I can give Cai that’s precious and untouched.

  I fold my hands in my lap. My thighs are pressed together. My panties are such a p
ale blue that they might look white and my bra matches. When I dressed for this date, I wasn’t intentionally thinking about sex, but I dressed to please Cai. I’d said such a stupid thing, and I hated myself for screwing up something fantastic.

  Except I think I’ve made up for it. I hide my naughty smile. Cai is taking me in. I don’t want to change the vibe of this moment. Not with the way her eyes are so hungry.

  Hungry for me. It’s mind-blowing.

  She rubs the backs of her fingers over my cheek. “You definitely look like an angel.”

  “I didn’t think you were religious.”

  “I didn’t think I was either.”

  Her fingers coast over my cheek to my temple and across my forehead. I don’t know that anyone else has ever touched me between my brows before, and when she slides down the slope of my nose, it tickles. I let my eyes shut, and even my lids become hers to touch. She’s blind and I’m mute and together we’re practically one person.

  She eases forward until she’s standing above me. “Make me come, little one.”

  I’ve been little and small before, but it didn’t feel like this. It was always dangerous to be small before. Not now. I’m protected in the shelter of Cai’s body. She has my hair gathered up again, and she’s holding me as delicately as I could ever hope. But her other hand is clutching my shoulder like she doesn’t want to let me go.

  I open my mouth and steal her for myself. It’s perverted communion, and I’m taking her body into my own.

  “Use your hands,” she orders in a husky voice.

  I spread her lips and hold her flesh taut under my tongue. I lick, she shudders. More. Again. I circle her opening with two fingers, rubbing and rubbing and then sliding only an inch inside. She’s textured and soaking wet, and I get all of this to revel in as what I’ve done to her.

  I hold back my own surging wave of sensation. I’m so wet and swollen that tightening my pelvic muscles takes me shockingly close to coming. It all feels so good. Maybe I’m delusional, but each rub of my tongue over her clit makes my own clit surge in response. We’re that interwoven.