Page 101 of Hot Tea & Bird Calls
The weight of Celene’s breast helped distract Skye from contorting into an orgasm from that alone. Rocking her hips into Celene, Skye’s lips touched her ear. “How many fingers?”
Celene culled them into a sloppy kiss, and Skye was happy to oblige. And for good reason, to calm her before Celene purred, “Two in this position. Three if I let you bend me over.”
Skye had no idea their first night together would bring this out of them; she had no idea how she would’ve prepared. “Sounds like two orgasms to me. At least.”
Leaving that there, Skye paced her middle and ring fingers, eyes closing on their own from the overwhelming rush of pleasure impacting her. They moaned, rough and strangled. Skye swore every stroke upon Celene’s clit brought herself closer to the precipice. She frowned in concentration, fingertips losing purchase two, three, four times in this much wetness. Judging by Celene’s tremors and the strained swear words escalating higher and higher, those slip-ups weren’t even noticed.
“I’m—” Then, Celene stiffened, bearing against Skye until she called out into their room of grays and blues and silvers, much like the cabochon swinging with their motions. Celene’s hips jumped forward, chasing more stimulation. But, breathing still strained, Skye locked her into a back hug instead, a gesture as personal as anything they’d done on that bed or the couch.
“Stunning,” Skye murmured between kisses to Celene’s shoulder, to her cheek. The outside light accented her girlfriend’s form, captivating her more than anything in a museum. She subtly rocked into Celene, finding relief. “You’re stunning, Celene.”
“No, you...” Celene ground out, bumping Skye in return. “I’m still turned on. That was so sexy.” Reclaiming some control, she unlatched one of Skye’s hands and directed it to her center, this time from behind.
Skye couldn’t decide what would dominate her dreams more—the heat surrounding her fingers, the visual of Celene sleekly slipping off her panties, or the following scene of her throwing a wink over her shoulder before positioning onto all fours.
“I’d usually flip us…and take over again,” Celene panted in broken syllables, bowing backwards onto Skye’s hand, “but you make me feel secure. I can breathe with you.”
Determined not to get emotional at a time like this, Skye fondled between Celene’s legs, kissing up her spine, branding her shoulder blades, tasting the definition there. She understood the enormity of those words, of this vulnerability they’d hidden from the masses.
Dragonfruit.
Skye could just announce their reality word—or did it now count as their deepest thoughts? The deep reality word.
Because if she hadn’t fallen for Celene before, the confession would’ve succeeded.
Celene may have been on limited time, though it was time, nonetheless.
Skye worked in a third finger as Celene dictated their growing speed in backwards thrusts, supported by Skye meeting her with her hips. “Celene, I wish I could agree. But with you, I struggle to breathe. Everything about you leaves me breathless.”
Celene moaned, head hanging low, face masked by silky hair, hands gripping the sheets. Uninhibited by the rhythm of two women joining, she gasped out, “Don’t stop, oh fuck, don’t stop.”
“I won’t.”
“No, I mean, don’t stop feeling that way.”
Skye reached to set Celene off in greedy caresses—from her breasts to the ridges of her firm abs, and a breast again to softly twist a nipple. Celene jolted through a free, hoarse cry of a release that nearly squeezed Skye’s fingers out of place.
Then she collapsed, and Skye toppled after. Glowing, matched in fierce satiation.
Once their breathing evened in a session of Celene’s coaching, Skye said, “I meant that the first time. I won’t stop feeling this way.”
A flicker of Celene’s more critical side sharpened her stare. On her back, she searched Skye’s face for an extended, disarming minute. Skye flexed a drying hand, wondering if she’d messed up somewhere.
But, gratefully, Celene softly tucked half-curled strands behind Skye’s ear and kissed her soundly on the lips. “Good.”
Skye could markoff another fantasy realized in real life: Celene Vale was, in fact, a human space heater.
It made for a toasty experience as they lay under thin sheets, the comforter long discarded to the foot of the bed. After as much more sex as they’d packed into the last three hours, Skye could get used to the extra heat, even on the hottest days.
With Celene’s elevated temperature came a caveat—she wasn’t a fan of snuggling for more than about ten minutes at a time. She opened up for lazy kisses, nestling into Skye forpurposeful intimacy. But hugging in bed too long? Celene would groan about overheating.
It didn’t disappoint Skye as much as she’d thought, tracing Celene’s curves with her fingertips, massaging into her tight shoulders. There were many ways to express intimacy. Besides, ten minutes of Celene’s arms around her were heavenly.
Celene stretched into a graceful arc, then rolled to face Skye with a smile that flipped her stomach. She snatched Skye’s hand and kissed the back of it. “Are you hungry? Should I order for us?” When she smiled, one peak of her lip kinked in the cutest way. “What can I do for you?”
Skye hurried in to kiss her. The smartest decision as she nursed this condition called love. Celene professed to pamper women, to get lost in them. Skye would learn to accept being pampered, but her heart would break if she didn’t handle Celene’s temperament with care. Once she’d gotten a hold of herself, she murmured, “I could eat.”
“Yeah, you can,” Celene replied, wearing a sleazy grin.
