No Greater Love than Mine

by Harper Bliss

  And this kiss might be fraught with a million emotions, memories of missed opportunities and, perhaps, broken hearts, but it’s also so much more. It easily transcends what we once were, and what we’ve come to mean to one another—vastly different things for each one of us. It brings us together, unites, gives us if not a blank slate, then at least a canvas we can paint over. On which we can create a brand new picture, although the one beneath it will always be there. Except no longer visible to the naked eye.

  She kisses me again and again and I sweep my hands from her back, to her sides, to just next to her breasts. I need to find out how she has changed, or if I can even spot the changes. As our lips keep meeting, Angela becomes the same woman again who seduced me years ago—although she always said I was the one who seduced her. None of it matters.

  I give her blouse a tug, making my intentions known, and this time, Angela doesn’t need a moment anymore. She kisses my cheek, then the sensitive skin of my neck, until she traces a path back up to my ear.

  “Take me to bed,” she says, and they’re the most beautiful words ever spoken.

  I don’t say anything, just look at her. I’m not one to be stumped for words, but I’m certain I can’t get any past the lump in my throat. When something happens you’ve been dreaming of for twenty years, even though you knew you weren’t even entitled to the dream version of it anymore, it’s a lot to take in.

  Silently, I take her hand and lead her down the hallway and up the stairs. My bedroom is the masterpiece of the house. One wall is a floor to ceiling window overlooking the always-twinkling lights of this impressive city below. Like me, Angela is a born-and-bred Los Angeles girl, and our love for our city was something we bonded over when we first met.

  “Jesus,” she says, and stands still in front of the window. “No artwork required on the walls in here.”

  I smile and pull her close again. “Especially not now you’re here,” I manage to say, and I don’t care how incredibly cheesy it sounds. I already know she’s going to make fun of me for saying this in the morning—but the morning is too far in the future. This is now, and I have Angela in my bedroom. Dinner is getting cold downstairs and, as far as I’m concerned, it’s the best thing that could be happening to it.

  “I want you,” she whispers in my ear. Her words make me melt. Her touch sets my skin on fire. I resume my work on her blouse, hoisting it all the way out of her pants, and letting my hands travel underneath.

  “I want you too,” I say against the skin of her neck, and I feel her hands slip underneath my top.

  11

  Angela

  Jackie has me exactly where I want to be: flat on my back, with her on top of me. A position I’d never dreamed I’d find myself in ever again.

  We’re only dressed in our underwear and I’m still glowing from the pure joy of peeling that sleeveless top off her, and slowly revealing more of her skin. The front of her body is pressed warmly to my side, her leg is slung over mine. I feel so much of her on me, I can hardly believe it—can hardly believe this is real.

  Her lips are all over mine, our tongues entwined. When we break from our kiss, she looks down at me, her gaze intense and brooding. “Twenty years of foreplay,” she says, her lips drawing into a smile. Her gaze flits to the right, to the scar on my shoulder. “But I’ll be gentle with you regardless.” She bends over and presses the lightest of kisses on my shoulder. “I won’t hurt you ever again, Angela.” My name is barely a whisper on her tongue.

  “I got shot so I figure the worst has been done to me already.”

  “If you hadn’t been shot, we might never have met again.”

  “Who knew getting shot could be such a good thing? Let’s not tell the NRA, shall we?” I smile up at her. My shoulder wound doesn’t hurt any longer, my brain is being flooded with too many feel-good hormones, my blood saturated with lust.

  “It’ll be our secret.” She leans in to kiss me again and it’s the kind of kiss that tells me, loud and clear, that the time for talking has ended. When our lips break apart next, and she skates a finger from my cheek, over my collarbone, to the swell of my breast, I follow its path with my eyes. The sight of her finger caressing my skin works in tandem with the sensations it’s producing. I’ve only ever been this lit up for her. I never turned into a complete celibate—I had basic human urges to meet—but when other women touched me, it never felt like this. Life-changing. Like the mere touch of a fingertip has the power to reach all the way into my soul.

  Her fingertip dives underneath the cup of my bra and my nipple presses against the fabric, screaming to be released. As though she heard the cry from my flesh, Jackie pushes the cup down and peers at my erect nipple. She leans in, waits a beat, then takes it between her soft, soft lips.

  I close my eyes and revel in the pleasure that bursts inside me already. If this is how it feels when she’s licking my nipple, I can only imagine how my body will react when she does the same elsewhere. She repeats the process with my other nipple, freeing it, regarding it with such heated intention, then sucking it into her warm mouth.

  “Jesus,” I say on a moan. This makes her look up, so I instantly regret not keeping my mouth shut. “Don’t stop,” I add, twirling my fingers through her short, jet-black hair.

  She sends me a sly smile, then wraps her lips around my tortured nipple again. Before she sucks it all the way into her mouth, she grazes her teeth against it, and I’m about to lose my mind.

  She kisses her way back up to my lips, and lets her tongue dart into my mouth. I hungrily press my fingertips into her flesh. I want her so much, so acutely, I don’t think I can wait any longer. It’s not just desire, it’s a need so great, it lodges like a stone in my gut—a stone that can only be obliterated when I touch her the way she’s touching me.

  I bring my hands to her back and unhook her bra. Her hand is trapped between our bodies, and her thumb sweeps over my nipple. Desire flares and I clumsily fumble with her bra. I ignore the pang of pain in my shoulder as I try to find my balance.

  Jackie pushes herself away from me and guides her bra off her body. She flings it into the room somewhere. It’s still early in the evening and as I follow the trajectory of her discarded bra, I see the setting sun bathing our city in the most beautiful golden light.

  Jackie helps me to get my own bra off and as soon as I lie back down, she goes for my panties. She peels them off me slowly and, as I lie naked in front of her, yearning is all I feel.

  Jackie’s glance skates over me. It sweeps up from my legs, over my breasts, to meet my gaze. The smallest of smiles plays on her lips. I’m so overtaken by desire that I have no room left in my brain to worry about how she may think I look. Our bodies are not what they once were. I, for one, have a prominent battle scar on my shoulder. But none of that matters, all doubts are erased by the energy crackling in the air between us. Besides, from the look in her eyes, I can only conclude that Jackie very much likes what she sees.

  My most urgent longing is to get her panties off her. I want to see her the way she sees me; I want her to bare herself to me. Complete surrender is the only way for us to go and it surprises me how easily we’re getting there. This is something we need to do, just like it was twenty years ago. No matter the consequences and how it may color our lives afterward, this was always inevitable. Which is why, if we couldn’t be together, we could never see each other again.

  All I have to do is stretch out my arm in the direction of her panties, and Jackie catches my drift. No doubt out of concern for my injury, she proceeds to take the last remaining bit of her clothing off, and reveals herself to me—it’s even more intoxicating than that first time.

  She sucks her bottom lip into her mouth. Maybe she’s thinking about logistics—or wondering how she can go easy on me now that we’re both naked and brimming with lust. I’m way ahead of her and pull her toward me. I maneuver onto my side, practically disabling my right arm so my shoulder is immobile and protected. I’m not a leftie but I t
hink I can find the strength, and the dexterity, somewhere. All I have to do is look into Jackie’s demanding eyes. All the desire I feel running through me is reflected right back at me. All the years of not wanting to think about anything like this ever happening again, while the need for it roared inside me subconsciously. The release of simply lying here with her, our bodies hot with anticipation, is such a relief. As though something that’s been off kilter for the longest time can finally slip into focus again. Easily. No effort required. This was how it was always supposed to be. Jackie and me.

  Jackie cups my breast into her hand again and squeezes my hard nipple between her fingers. It’s as though she has found the switch to ratchet my desire up another gear. I run a finger over the slope of her hip, over her thigh, then turn inward. I push her one knee away from the other, and, gently, let my finger roam toward her hot center.

  I spread my own legs and shuffle as close to her as I can. Her hand starts moving south and as I run a finger over her soft, warm pussy lips, her hand reaches my own, pulsing lips. We stroke each other gently while we stare into each other’s eyes. Her finger circles my clit and I expel an involuntary moan. This spurs her on and her finger slides down, into my wetness.

  My own finger mirrors hers. The touch of her soft, wet lips revs up my excitement another notch. I push a finger high inside her and the combination of feeling her hot pussy clamp itself around me, while her own finger touches something deep inside me, is almost enough to push me over that invisible edge. I’ve had to wait twenty years for this and, it seems, my body has waited patiently along with me. But now that we’re here, it can’t contain itself any longer.

  All the while, I look into Jackie’s eyes. They’ve narrowed but I can still see the obvious spark in them, the revelation, the utter satisfaction of finally getting to do this again. She withdraws her finger and adds another. She fucks me harder, as though she’s totally attuned to the rhythm of my core, my heart, my throbbing desire.

  I mirror her action because this is what we are. Mirror images. Not because we look alike, or not even because our hands are doing the same thing, but in her, I see myself reflected back so perfectly. The parts of me I’ve kept hidden, that I’ve kept pushing down, ignoring and denying them throughout the years. That’s why the look in her eye, despite the pleasurable action of her fingers inside my pussy, is what’s getting me off the most. I see the person I’m meant to be, the woman I could only ever be with her.

  When Jackie starts brushing her thumb over my clit as well as fucking me with increasing intensity, it all bursts open. All the memories, pent-up desires and, most of all, the present lust, the electricity between us, flowing from my body to hers and back through where we’re touching each other so intimately, so inevitably. I give myself up to her and come at her fingers while I have two of my own fingers buried deep inside of her. Her eyes on me, her fingers inside me, her warmth wrapped around me. It all erupts into a deafening crackle of white noise in my brain and a burst of stars in my core.

  I ride her fingers through this blissful climax, the sort of orgasm that I must have saved up for this very occasion. I cry out her name as my limbs stiffen.

  “Oh, Jackie,” I moan, as decades worth of tension flow from me at finally being able to scream out her name.

  12

  Jackie

  When I open my eyes I can’t believe it for the first few seconds. My consciousness isn’t fully alert yet, and the memories of last night are still aligning themselves in my brain. I blink and rest my gaze on Angela. She’s really here. As of now, no matter what happens, it will never have been a one-night stand. We have two nights between us now—two nights of utter and complete joy. Although, for me, this time around, the guilt-free nature of our lovemaking gave it an extra dimension. As I roll over and curl an arm over her sleeping body, I don’t have to worry about the repercussions of what happened between us having an effect on my life. There are no more heartbreaking choices to be made. I’m free. What happens next will all depend on Angela.

  In my eagerness to press myself against her warmth, I’ve slung my arm over her in a less than delicate manner. It must have roused her because she stirs in my embrace and the sound she makes in the back of her throat awakens the lust inside me. I want her all over again, even more than yesterday.

  “Morning,” I whisper into her ear.

  She rolls onto her back and even though her lips are pulled into a smile, it’s tight—more like a grimace. She glances at her shoulder. “I’m not sure my doctor would approve of what we did last night.”

  “Does it hurt?” I place a gentle hand on her injured shoulder.

  “A little.” What her smile lacks in brightness, her glance makes up for in spades. “I’m supposed to be out of action for a reason.”

  “Maybe I shouldn’t clear you to go back to work just yet.” I press a kiss to her cheek. “Remember, I hold all the power.”

  “I’m pretty sure you shouldn’t be in bed with me if you plan to exercise any authority over my mental wellbeing.” Her smile breaks out fully now.

  “Good God,” I exclaim. “I’m worse than Roger Bradley.”

  “I hope you get suspended so we can spend the rest of my sick leave in bed together.”

  I burst into a chuckle. “We really shouldn’t joke about things like that.” My heart sings at her words, though. Angela wants to spend more time with me.

  “If we can’t joke about the many dark sides of life, and the many flaws of human nature, what can we do about them?” she asks matter-of-factly.

  “You’re absolutely right.” I press myself a little more against her. “Last night was spectacular, by the way.”

  “It was.” She folds her arms behind my neck and pulls me in for a kiss.

  “Thank goodness it’s Sunday.”

  “What are your plans today?” she asks.

  “Devouring you some more… if you’ll let me.” I try a smile but I can’t put all my heart into it before I know if she agrees with my plans.

  “If you could feed me first, then we can open negotiations as far as the devouring is concerned.” She pushes herself up a little.

  I think of the discarded dinner downstairs. “I’m not sure I can feed you. You seemed quick to leave the food I made for you last night uneaten.”

  “No offense to your cooking skills, but there was something far more delicious on offer.” She turns her head and looks out of the window. “I still can’t get over that view.”

  “How about you enjoy it some more while I rustle us up some breakfast in bed.”

  Angela shakes her head. “Breakfast in bed is the most unpractical, overrated thing ever invented.” She cocks her head. “At my age, I want to eat sitting at a table in a comfortable chair, thank you very much.”

  “All these false notions of romance we’ve been spoon-fed over the years.” I throw the covers off her. “None of that here. Come on.”

  “Hey,” Angela protests. “You promised you’d go easy on me.”

  I cover her naked body with mine, careful not to put any pressure on her shoulder. I want to ask her what went through her mind when the bullet hit her, but that’s a conversation for another time.

  “Is that better?” My breasts press into hers and the touch of her warm body against mine stirs that deep lust that overtook me last night again.

  “Much.” She kisses my forehead. “But I still need to eat first.”

  “I saw you. Once,” Angela says. We’ve taken our breakfast outside and are overlooking the city. “I avoided all big police functions where I suspected you might turn up alongside Michael. I always made sure I was on a shift. It was easy enough to swap.” She sips from her coffee. “But then, completely out of the blue, I saw you at The Grove.” She shakes her head. “I never go to The Grove. But I was in the neighborhood and I promised my mother I would bring her back some cherries that night and, for some reason I will never fully understand, I said to myself, I’m here now, I may as well get some ove
rpriced but convenient cherries from The Grove, so I can go straight to my mother’s house after. So I did and there you were.” She puts her cup down. “I immediately did a U-turn and went back to my car. No cherries were bought that day. My mother was very upset.” She gives a light chuckle. “It was a few years after…” Her voice trails off. “And seeing you still hit me so hard. I couldn’t understand it.”

  “I’m sorry.” I put a hand on her knee but keep staring ahead.

  “I’m not sure what I would have said to you if you’d seen me.” Angela sits up a little straighter. She doesn’t put a hand over mine.

  “We can’t get mired in what-ifs,” I say.

  “I know.” She’s the one who turns to me. “So, what do we do next? Date?”

  “If you want to.” I can’t help a smile from spreading on my lips. “Do you want to date me, Angela Hill?”

  “It beats making appointments with you in Roger Bradley’s office.” She can smile again as well. We’ll never be able to erase what happened between us completely, but we can’t let it stop us from taking another chance at happiness together. “And we can only meet here, never at my place.”

  I slant my head. “I’m dying to see your place.”

  “Well then next time you take a bullet, because compared to this palace it’s the very definition of a dump.”

  “But it’s your dump.” I squeeze her knee. “And I want to know everything about you.”

  “Hm, you might want to see a shrink about that. That sounds a little obsessive.” She winks. “I know one, but I’m not sure if she’s any good.”