Page 88 of Ladies in Hating
“Put your hand beneath your skirts,” Georgiana whispered. “Let me see you.”
And, instantly, Cat did.
Georgiana did not know how it was possible to feel so close to her culmination for so long. Her body tightened further. Her thighs trembled. And Cat—
Sweet God. Cat. Her fingers worked beneath her own skirts, and the rhythm of her mouth faltered, and the sweet little vibration of her groan pulled Georgiana’s orgasm closer still. Her temples glistened with perspiration, and a tiny ringlet curled up beneath her ear.
“That’s so good,” Georgiana said. “You’re so beautiful.” Things had started to fade at the edges, a thick darkness at the corners of the room. Her pulse throbbed between her legs to the rhythm of Cat’s mouth. She tried to make herself keep talking, tried not to let pleasure bear her away, and somehow the words on her lips were desperate and nonsensical and true. “I will love you until the day I die. I want you in my lap, with your frock off. I want to drown in your tits. Oh—fuck—”
She wanted to come—desperately, unspeakably—but she wanted Cat to come more. She reached down and caught Cat’s elbow, then dragged Cat up to her, shoving their skirts aside so that Cat could straddle her in the chair.
Cat was flushed and glazed—her eyes were glassy, and her lips were wet from Georgiana’s sex.
“Fuck,” Georgiana said again, thickly. “Put your fingers in my mouth.”
Cat did. Her fingers tasted of arousal, salt and sweet, and Georgiana sucked hard.
“Georgie,” Cat gasped, “Georgie, please.”
Her knees dug into Georgiana’s hips, and Georgiana closedher hands over Cat’s glorious buttocks, and finally—finally—they slid together, a fumbling rush of slick, grinding pleasure, with Cat’s free hand thrust between them.
Cat whimpered. Her hips rolled. “I can’t—Georgie—oh God—”
Georgiana’s mind was a blur of sensation—Cat’s fingers in her mouth, Cat’s legs spread around her, Cat’s voice sobbing out her release—
And then she came too, hard and relentless. She rode the heel of Cat’s hand as pleasure dragged her down past sight, down past hearing, down past everything except Cat.
Cat was around her and inside her and there was nothing in the world she needed, nothing she wanted except this—hot and breathless and palpable and honest.
Some long moments later, Cat’s mouth moved against her ear. “Georgie mine,” she whispered, “I love you too.”
They were sweat-damp, still mostly dressed, tangled together in an armchair. The windows were clouded with steam.
This is happiness,Georgiana thought dazedly.
And not just happiness. Hope.
This was not a mistake. It was not temporary. Cat was steadfast and true, and she would not be here if she did not wish to be, her heart pressed to Georgiana’s own.
Chapter 28
Augusta, who had spent a lifetime yearning, was rendered speechless not by the gift itself, but by the simple fact that it had been given to her.
—fromORPHAN OF MIDNIGHTby Geneva Desrosiers
“Georgie, my love,” Cat whispered. “I want to ask you something.”
Georgiana blinked open her eyes. She’d been awake—more or less—for a quarter of an hour, but she had not stirred even a hair’s breadth. The cot in Selina’s office wasn’t meant for two, and so Cat had slept mostly atop her, their bodies entangled, the top of her head against Georgiana’s lips, and—
Well. Georgiana hadn’t wanted to move, that was all. She suspected she could have died happily just like this, with one arm wrapped around Cat’s waist and her other hand in Cat’s hair.
“Yes?” Her voice was rough with sleep and, because proximity demanded it, she skated her palm along Cat’s bare backside.
“Last night. Did you really say you wanted to drown in my tits?”
Georgiana heard a strangled sound emerge from her throat. Her hand paused on its journey down the cleft of Cat’s buttocks.
“Or did I hallucinate that?” Cat’s voice was all mischief, devil creature that she was. “I must admit that I was somewhat overcome.”
