Page 113 of Hot Tea & Bird Calls
Rustic chic and minimalism worked well together.
Sleep without the sirens.
The fresh air was healing.
Those weren’t enough. She could find those qualities anywhere, in other states. Her idealistic visions for life in a slower-paced locale weren’t unfounded. This wasn’t a question about Pennsylvania or refurbishments.
“Yielding’s grown on me.” Celene cursed at the thinness in her voice. However, she’d endure sounding weak to tell her, “But I won’t let this place go because I love you.”
Skye blinked in a beat of three, a lovely introduction to, “I love you, too. So much.”
God, had ‘love’ ever impacted Celene this strongly? To where Celene shivered in the breeze in this light state, only for a second before her smile broke through. “Good.”
And Skye rolled her eyes in her especially harmless way before she fit their lips into a kiss made almost ineffectual by their grinning. The answer about Skye’s art became irrelevant. Redundant, even.
Because they did it, they found each other. And they acknowledged it.
Celene brought her hand to Skye’s cheek, deepening the kiss. Their lips moved in idle passes and lazy drags, ending in a brushing of the tips of their noses.
Their families might have been annoying about their private lives, but Shanice was right. Did ‘winning’ matter if Celene could experience love in a true capacity, with someone whose sense of refuge aligned seamlessly with hers? In a mutual exchange of warmth, respect, and adulation?
When it began raining again, they yelped and jumped up, grabbed their things to sprint back to the car. Pelted by colddrops, their laughter echoed around the trees and ghosts of ones long ago.
28
There existed very few things more divine than Skye sinking into the abyss of covers and sheets, pitching her hips for the most beautiful woman who’d ever loved her. Saturday evening and night passed with an extravagant bounty of teasing, grinding, and sex that poured adoration into every touch.
This drizzly morning started that way, too, breaking for steamy showers and a Sunday breakfast, and with one racy joke and an unbuttoned blouse later, Celene and Skye fell off the gentle track. Into the silkiness of Celene’s hair splashing Skye’s face as she leveraged her entire arm into strokes deep and fierce enough to rattle the headboard onto the wall.
Skye swore in lush, indulgent bursts, loving every second of it.
“Oh, fuck, how you feel on my fingers,” Celene panted, their foreheads firmly sliding in their connection from friction and sweat. “I’ll give you anything.”
Crisscrossing her legs firmly onto Celene’s back, Skye couldn’t control the whine in her voice. She’d never gotten sowet over her own voice until Celene found her way inside her. “Take me, god?—”
“Come for me. I want nothing else but you coming for me.”
Skye glanced up at the red undertones of Celene exerting herself—mouth ajar from a series of her beautifully hoarse, breathy moans. Only a glance, though. Looking for too long would cost her a few more moments of this intense lovemaking.
Fingertips digging into the fitness of Celene’s shoulder blades, Skye succumbed to an orgasm impossibly more intimate than many times before. Everything reached deeper; her muscles above and below her navel convulsed in these sinuous seas of Celene, capsizing her in pleasure that could overwhelm but never harm.
Safety. They were each other’s safety.
She raked Celene’s fragrant hair aside to get the full scope of her guiding Skye, gasping and drenched, onto shore. The strokes gradually slowed until her fingers dislodged, and Skye shivered at the emptiness, residual tremors shaking every word of, “I never knew love could feel this good.”
Celene blinked groggily, the picture of sensual listlessness. Where the sharpness of her voice speared the bedroom’s air. Background tracked by rain dancing outside, she replied, “Neither did I. It’s eye-opening…and pretty powerful.”
“What can I do for you?” Skye lapped remnants of herself from Celene’s lips, tasting a heated moan. “How should I touch you?”
Sliding her lithe frame to get comfortable atop Skye, Celene drifted her hand between them. Caressing a breast, her half-concealed smile villainous. “Dealer’s choice.”
Celene put up a feigned amount of resistance as Skye tried to push her onto her back. Their laughter interspersed the kisses, the shoves meant to seduce. Skye got to her knees upon the off-white sheets, sitting like a woman presented with a spread of theworld’s richest delicacies. Not too far off, she decided, bending to tongue around a nipple that’d stood by her stare alone. Powerful, indeed.
Languid sampling collarbones, tensing abdominals, hips curvature, the light, decadent scent waiting between Celene’s legs put Skye in an irresistibly turned-on place. Intensified by how Celene teased her nails along Skye’s ribs, sexy and simultaneously distracting.
But nothing would deter her face from nudging Celene’s legs open. A little awkward from her positioning hovering above, from the side, though that soon fluttered from her mind when her mouth closed in on Celene’s center. Losing herself, she’d pressed her mouth onto her clit first and murmured deeply when her girlfriend’s body twisted like a corkscrew. Apologizing with her tongue, she delved further and consumed her with mercifully tactful enthusiasm.
“Oh, oh god,” Skye moaned into velvety heat when Celene’s hand massaged the back of her neck. Everything about this woman pushed the right buttons.
