Page 76 of Windlass

“Why do you get to make the rules?”

“Because I’m currently wearing pants, and you’re not. Try them on.”

Stevie obeyed. The natural linen color contrasted with the golden hue of her skin, settling on the curve of her hip bones like something winged coming in to land. Angie motioned for Stevie to turn. Yes. As expected her ass looked fantastic.

“And then this.” She held out the vest. “No bra.”

“What?”

“Try it without a bra.”

Stevie considered the piece of clothing dubiously. The silk back shimmered in the light.

“I’ll need another incentive.”

Conscious of the other people in the dressing room, Angie said, “I’ll buy you ice cream afterward” as she pulled off her own shirt.

Stevie’s grin was thoroughly pleased with itself. Angie hopped up on the bench to stay out of her reach, shaking her finger as she slid her head through the neck of the halter top cocktail dress. Her leggings could stay on.

“Outfit first,” she said. She let the dress fall over her body.

“How am I supposed to do that when you look likethis?”

Stevie wrapped her arms around Angie’s legs, the top of her head just coming up to her breasts. Stevie couldn’t bury her face in her cleavage the way she clearly wanted to. She could, however, nip the skin underneath, especially since the neckline was downright obscene. She hadn’t seen her tits spill out of an outfit quite like this in years. She would have laughed if Stevie hadn’t taken advantage of the material’s stretch and pulled the halter top to one side.

Angie didn’t stop Stevie from lifting the hem of her bra. She leaned back against the wall, hands flat on the cool, scratched surface for support. Stevie gripped her hips firmly, which was good as what she was doing with her mouth was undoing Angie’s ability to remain standing.

Historically, Stevie hadn’t talked about her sex life with Angie. As far as Angie knew, she didn’t talk about it with anyone except maybe Morgan, but she wasn’t even sure about that. She was oddly private for someone who made that many lewd jokes on a daily basis. This had driven Angie crazy. What did Stevie like? What wasshelike in bed? Did she know what to do with someone like Angie?

She did not need to ask those questions any longer. Whatever Stevie’s background, she knew what she was doing. Moreover, as her hands slid up Angie’s waist beneath the dress and then raked her nails down the sides, following the rough gesture with fingers that skimmed lightly back, caressing, brushing each rib before repeating that devastating, burning claim upon her skin, Angie could confirm she was a fast learner.

As Stevie’s tongue teased her cleavage, much in the same way she’d gone down on Angie very recently, Angie had enough sense to realize the danger she was in and disregard it, again.

“You promised I could feel you,” Stevie said to her breasts. “I’ve tried everything on.”

“Vest. Now.”

Stevie’s grin returned as she pulled away, leaving Angie panting. She undid her simple bra with a practiced snap of her fingers and shrugged into the vest, putting her hat back on. Angie almost scolded her, but the effect of the outfit on Stevie’s appearance shut her up completely.

The vest revealed hints of what lay beneath, the loose fit and cropped hem teasing the viewer, while the silk back narrowed, leaving an inch or two of that addictive line down Stevie’s back available for sight—and touch. It also showed off her arms and shoulders, both rounded with smooth muscle and, she realized with a thrill of satisfaction, interrupted with several distinctive teeth marks.

Oops. She wasn’t mad about it.

“You’re buying it.” She stepped down from the bench. “I’ll buy it if you don’t.” She would, too, money problems be damned. Keeping her lips a safe inch from Stevie’s, she took Stevie’s right hand and slid it past the elastic band of her yoga pants, past the flimsy hem of her underwear, and between her legs.

Stevie’s breath caught. Her lips brushed Angie’s once, again with that instinctive sweetness that would be the death of her, before she presumably remembered the rule. Angie’s lips burned where they’d touched.

It didn’t count. And if it didn’t count, she could cherish it, remembering the sensation, remembering the way Stevie sought her mouth as if it belonged to her. As if they belonged to each other.

This line of thought was too dangerous. Luckily, Stevie erased it.

Angie clapped her hand over her own mouth as Stevie slid inside her, unlocking her knees and softening her spine with a single crook of her fingers.

“Only twice a week,” she managed to say as she wrapped her arms around Stevie’s neck for support. They’d hit that mark already. Five days needed to pass before they were free to fuck again.

“Doesn’t count if you don’t come,” Stevie whispered into her ear, repeating Angie’s earlier words.

“You. Are making. That difficult.”

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