Page 84 of Hot Tea & Bird Calls
“Would you send me pictures?”
Gasping at Celene’s knee being introduced, she moaned, “Yes.”
“For this…” Celene ground her thigh upwards, and Skye held onto Celene’s shoulders like a buoy in a sea of temptation.Thisclearly represented the space between Skye’s thighs. “What term do you prefer? Do you like vagina? Cunt? Do you like pussy?”
She loved them all, but the final one nearly sent her over the edge. It left her open, ready to make good on the request to be naughty. “God, I love pussy.”
A sharp intake sounded suspiciously moan-like. Skye snapped from her stupor to marvel at Celene’s heavy gaze, hair strands cascading across her face. “So do I.”
“So do you what?”
Picking up on the challenge, Celene bit her lip and seamlessly responded, hiking her thigh again. “Love pussy. I’m hungry for you.”
So vulgar. So irresistible. And too much. Skye fell to her back, the room spinning. “My god.”
They lay there, their breaths steadying. And it’d been the correct course of action when the security system bleeped. Elise and Ajay returned, loudly raving over the film like it’d come out yesterday. Fun over.
“I have to jog, like now.” Celene sat up with a low whine. She went through three breathing rounds, and Skye couldn’t have been more flattered. “Is that okay? I don’t mean to put you out.”
“Please, jog.” Skye laughed, fastening her shirt into place. “Such a disciplined regimen.”
Celene had already begun hunting through an old dresser. She held up shorts and a tank tantalizing enough that Skye would rush home and camp out at their window to catch a glimpse of her, in case her route went by her street.
Before heading into her bathroom, Celene bent to lean over Skye’s lap, on the edge of the bed.
Skye lifted a brow, but Celene didn’t make her wait long. Celene slanted her head into a short, almost possessively rough kiss and hissed, “Take this off of me.”
Celene seized Skye’s hand and brought it to the hem of her blouse. Suddenly a character in her smutty book, Skye detached their mouths. She needed to see every second of this, taking her time to peel the top, little by little, until it slipped off Celene’s head. And she resorted to simply stare at an impeccably full midnight blue bra and abs all that sexually frustrated jogging produced. Celene blew her a kiss and disappeared to change.
Damn. That series with the long title had nothing on Skye’s actual life.
Jogging could recalibrate Celene;she swore it would. Despite her sister’s asinine attempts to derail her efforts to sell the house, each evening, Skye pulled her juniper green SUV into the driveway, and Celene could think again.
Or, uninclined to wait until Skye’s shift ended, Celene would spend a couple of hours at Luce’s Mosaic Wonderland, observing how Skye effortlessly managed her small team and knew all the ins and outs of inventory. It was attractive, but unnerving. Skye’s presence regulated Celene—her heart rate slowed, and headaches ebbed.
Therefore, Celene needed distance. She needed a jog.
Celene made quick work of removing around-the-house clothes chosen solely to attract Skye. And she’d be mentally replaying that example of Skye undressing her, those intriguing, deep-set eyes in a long perusal.
Every type of breathing technique at Celene’s disposal wouldn’t diminish her desire to thrust her hand into Skye’s rude little shorts and make her call out so sharply, Yielding’s entire bird population would flock to their windows.
This neighborhood had extremely low crime rates; however, she remained vigilant by planning one or two speedy laps as the sun set. That should sap enough energy.
After gripping her hair into a ponytail, Celene judged herself in the mirror. Shaped, angled brows, a tense jawline. This was the look of a woman who could control three impulses:
One, she wouldnotfuck Skye senseless tonight.
Two, she wouldnotleave her mind in Pennsylvania tomorrow.
Three, she wouldnotmiss Skye.
Missing her too much would complicate things. Having a girlfriend was supposed to be a lighthearted affair. Celene would brew leaves from her Manhattan stash and try not to make everything so serious. No matter how much care Skye put into her today. With infused tea and sliced pears and fucking patience,fuck.
She swiped a fingertip below her eye, removing any trace of what could be a tear.
Arousal and despair. They had no business intertwining.
Celene opened her bathroom door to find Skye standing there. Her arms were folded like she was cold, and she arced her face to the ceiling when Celene asked what was wrong.
