Page 78 of The Lovers
It’s too much feeling, too much want—too much too much too much—exploding all over my skin, through my limbs, directly into my veins. I’m going to shatter and then I won’t be able to have her, and all I want is to have her.
I wrap my arms around her, holding her against me, and we drift to lie down against the mattress. Our kisses slow, turning soft, and she tugs the blanket up over our bodies. I pull away, pressing my forehead to hers and breathing out heavily, so full of meaning. I try not to spiral over her breasts and mine brushing,naked. I want to feel this and not feel the need to run away. I want to be in this, completely, for real.
“Are you okay?” she asks, breathless herself.
“I feel like my insides are going to burst out,” I say, but my hands have a mind of their own. They trek over her rib cage and draw a line down the smooth, taut expanse of her stomach. She brushes the hair off my face, pressing the tip of her nose to mine.
“I’m scared, too,” she whispers, her breath grazing across my cheek. “I haven’t felt this free in a long time. I forgot what it was like to unclench.”
I kiss her softly. “I wanna make a pact.”
“Like a blood oath,” she quips, grinning. “I’m afraid I don’t have my pocketknife.”
“We can find another way to seal the deal,” I reply, feeling naughty. I nudge my hips closer.
“I’m listening,” she says, and now her hands are the restless ones. They draw circles on my thigh, getting higher and higher with every swirl.
“No more denying. No more pretending. No more playing roles.” Her eyes widen and fix on mine, and I think that even without me saying it aloud she knows that I see her denial of self runs deeper than just her clothes, the missing piercings, the shaved head. “We be us.”
Just like we always were when we were together. Back then, we knew we had each other’s back, and it made everything—all the hard things and all the good ones, too—so much easier, sweeter, better.
“Us,” she says.
“Us.” I kiss her with everything in me.
All the feelings that make me afraid I’ll implode.
All the want, the need I haven’t dared acknowledge my whole life.
It all floods to the surface of my skin.
As the kiss deepens, we begin to move. Twisting together until Julia is on top of me, working my dress over my head and surveying the spoils of her efforts. Her eyes drop to my light pink underwear, her lips falling open, her tongue practically wagging. Her hands glide over my thighs and hips, fingers delicate as they tempt the edges of my underwear. Her face is close to my pussy; the only thing between her tongue and my pleasure is a thin barrier of fabric.
“Can I?” she asks.
“Anything,” I breathe.
She inches my pantiesdown down down, kissing my thighs, touching the tender skin gently with her fingers, sending shivers of pleasure through me. When she returns her attention between my legs, she takes her time to learn the curves of my body all over again.
I’ve never had a woman go down on me. I don’t know what to expect.
She gently spreads my folds with her fingers, using her thumb to apply pressure to my clit. I clutch my breast, undulating toward the pressure, feeling on the edge but not wanting to tip over just yet. Then her mouth takes over, kissing and licking, taking liberties with every crevice until the only thing I can do is gasp.
Her tongue dips inside and her fingers follow.
My body lets go as I tumble over the edge, buckling against her skin. The orgasm crashes through every remaining wall Itried to keep up, like my body wants to confirm every salacious thought and filthy, beautiful desire I’ve kept locked inside for so long.
When I finish, she drifts up to kiss my neck, touching my breasts, painting circles in the crevices of my elbows. She presses against my thigh with her pleasure. I’m shaking, untethered, but still I want to touch every part of her. Make her lose herself in the moment.
Show her it’s safe to let go.
I tug at the button on her pants and she lets me slip it open.
Down, off, revealing simple white cotton undies and a dark, delicious bush showing through the fabric. I pull them down, taking in the sight of her. She’s perfect. Her hair a supple brown, her skin tan. I use my fingers at first, slipping them between the folds until I can see her flower. She’s deliciously wet; it takes very little urging before her moans grow hot and heavy. Her hips pulse in a rhythm with my fingers and I slip one inside her.
Then another.
I kiss her clit before flicking it with my tongue. Her hips buck, affirming that’s the spot.
