Page 108 of The Fiancée Farce
Gemma ran her tongue through Tansy’s folds, up to her clit, sucking it between her lips and flicking it with her tongue. Pace fast and pressure firm, she used her free hand to pin Tansy’s hips to the bed when her back bowed and her thighs started to shake, pussy strangling Gemma’s fingers as she cried out.
“Oh my God.” Tansy covered her face with her hands and laughed, squirming, trying to snap her thighs shut. “I can’t. Stop. Not again.”
Gemma lifted her head, pouting. “Notyet, you mean.”
Tansy pressed one hand to her heaving breast, clearly trying to catch her breath. “Not right now. My heart feels like it’s trying to beat its way out of my chest.”
She mewled when Gemma slipped her fingers free, pussy still gripping her like she didn’t want to let go.God, it was tempting, the idea of diving back in, cleaning Tansy up with her tongue, not letting a fucking drop of her go to waste. She refrained, brushing her lips against Tansy’s hip instead, and then trailing kisses higher. Gemma’s mouth skimmed over the underside of Tansy’s breast, lingered for a second to suck a bruise there, a mark that would last even past morning. She detoured higher, laving her tongue against Tansy’s nipple, watching it draw up tight. Finally, she pressed a kiss to the space just over Tansy’s heart, feeling it thunder underneath her mouth, eventually slowing to something resembling normal.
Tansy ran her fingers through Gemma’s hair, short nails raking against her scalp, sending shivers down Gemma’s spine. Gemma squirmed, the ache inside her growing fiercer, distracting.
She just needed to take the edge off a little.
Gemma raised up, hand sliding between her legs, fingers gravitating to her clit with practiced ease. She was soaked and swollen. It wouldn’t take much, only a little—
“Come here,” Tansy said, gripping Gemma’s arm.
She went willingly, letting Tansy shift beneath her to slide a thigh between Gemma’s. She dragged Gemma down, one hand threaded through her hair, the other pressing low on her back as if urging Gemma to tilt her hips—
“Fuck.” Gemma’s clit pressed against the top of Tansy’s thigh, right where her leg met her hip.
Tansy smiled against Gemma’s lips. “Good?”
Fucking perfect.
She swiveled her hips, riding Tansy’s thigh, the pressure perfect against her aching clit. Through hazy, heavy-lidded eyes, she looked at Tansy, watching as a bead of sweat dripped down the side of her jaw, sliding along her throat toward the hollow of her collarbone. Gemma chased it with her tongue and swiveled her hips a little faster. Tansy’s fingers bit into her skin as she pulled her down, arching her hips and meeting Gemma’s thrusts, driving her higher, closer to the edge.
One of Tansy’s hands wiggled between their bodies, slick with sweat, palm curving around Gemma’s breast, drawn high and tight. Tansy’s fingers, ever so slightly calloused and just as dexterous as Gemma had dreamed, plucked at Gemma’s nipple, playing her like she imagined Tansy would the violin. Artful, sensual, intuitive.
Gemma’s heart crashed against her sternum, blood roaring in her head, ears ringing, and the muscles in her stomach burning as she cried out, the pleasure so sharp, so good it sneaked up on her, making her dizzy.
Drunk.That’s how she felt as she collapsed on top of Tansy, burying her face in Tansy’s neck, drowning in the scent of her sweat and detergent and Gemma’s soap. If Gemma had reveled in the honeyed heat of Tansy’s kiss,this. . . this moment—lying withher head on Tansy’s shoulder, a stray fleck of glitter clinging to her jaw, Tansy’s fingers stroking the sweat-slick skin of her back—was the closest to coming home Gemma had ever been.
A few blissful minutes passed, the sound of their breaths filling the room joined by the quiet hum of the heater. After a moment, Tansy shifted under Gemma, squirming.
Gemma rose up onto her knees, gripping the top of the headboard and staring down at Tansy. “Where do you think you’re going? I’m not done with you yet.”
Oh, no. She was just getting started.
“Oh, yeah?” Tansy reached up, fingers ghosting over the edge of Gemma’s jaw, smile so soft, so fond it made Gemma ache. “Who says I’m done with you?”
Chapter Eighteen
November16
Gemma (10:08 a.m.):I take it back.
Tansy (10:15 a.m.):What?
Gemma (10:17 a.m.):Your taste is questionable at best. Crunchy peanut butter, Tansy? Really?
Tansy (10:18 a.m.):What’s wrong with my peanut butter?
Gemma (10:19 a.m.):It’s not smooth, for one.
Tansy (10:26 a.m.):I like it.
Gemma (10:27 a.m.):Ugh. You’re lucky I like *you* because this stuff is??
