She scribbles down her address on my order pad as I rise from the seat. When I reach for it, she covers my hand with hers.
“No pressure, okay? If you decide you don’t want to do this, just call and let me know. And if you do…” She smiles, and her eyes go dark. “Then I promise we’ll have a nice night together and you won’t be disappointed.”
Chapter Three
~Delilah~
AT NINE O’CLOCK I’m standing on Janessa’s front porch with my heart jackhammering in my chest and my phone fisted in my hand. I have no idea how I made it up the front walk, but now that I’m standing on her porch, I’m stiff as a statue. Petrified. I couldn’t knock if I wanted to. That would take moving my hand, and my hand is not going anywhere. I still can’t believe I’m standing here beneath her porch light. I’m doing this. I’m about to give up my lesbian virginity. Is that even a thing?
I look down at my outfit one last time. I wore a sundress and my favorite pair of black lace-up boots. My mom bought me these boots about three years ago, and they’re my go-to comfort shoes, even in the summer. I wear them with everything from shorts to dresses, and I usually feel confident in them. I’m still waiting for the confidence to kick in. I’ve already nearly chickened out three times.
I inhale a lungful of cool air and look at Janessa’s one-story home.
This is where it’s going to happen.
So much better than the backseat of a car. Inside I laugh a little at the thought, but my nerves swallow that laugh before it has time to come out.
Oh God! Am I really doing this?
Her house is cute, with blue siding and white trim. It looks cozy and comfortable, unlike our houses, which are both way too big. I prefer smaller places, like Ashley’s apartment. My nerves go a little crazy when I think of Ashley. For some reason I feel like I’m cheating on her, which is totally nuts. She probably doesn’t even like girls.
She did give me that look.
Wishful thinking, Dee.
She was checking out Wyatt the first day we met, although she did say that was because she was an artist and interested in the human body. What if she isn’t into girls? Do I still want to do this?
I turn and look at my Jeep, nibbling on my lower lip as I debate making a run for it—but I really want to do this!
My phone vibrates and I turn it over. Janessa. Goose bumps form on my arms, and with a shaky finger I open the message.
Should I open the door or are you considering bolting?
Gulp. I lift my eyes to the door. Janessa waves from behind the glass. Instead of opening the door, she shrugs, smiles. I text her back, too nervous to open my mouth.
Open it fast and I’ll stay.
She pushes the door open. All the air rushes out of my lungs as she reaches for my hand and I take the first step inside. The door clicks softly closed behind me.
There’s no turning back.
“Hi.” She leans in and kisses my cheek. She smells freshly clean, like spring, and as her eyes roll down my body, my mouth goes dry. “You look incredible.”
“So…” I clear my throat, wondering if I’ll be able to speak at all tonight. “So do you.” She’s clearly not wearing a bra beneath her dark tank top, and I can’t seem to drag my eyes from her taut nipples poking against the material. I finally force my eyes to drop, but they hang on her supershort miniskirt.
I can’t believe this is really happening.
I can’t believe I’m here.
I tell myself it’s like a booty call and to just relax. People do this all the time. But I’ve never been a booty call. I’ve never had a booty call. Relaxation went out the door with her bra and the rest of her skirt. I’m a nervous wreck.
She presses her hand to my lower back and leads me into the living room. I can’t believe my legs are working. They feel like Jell-O. I look around, in need of a distraction from rattling nerves. The room looks lived-in and comfy, with children’s magazines on the coffee table and a miniature recliner, which must be for Jackie. The couch is dark brown, and the room is decorated in warm earth tones. There’s a small fireplace across from the couch, with several pictures of her daughter on the mantel.
“You can sit down if you’d like.” She walks into the adjoining kitchen, and the space she vacated feels cold. I want her back. Somehow I felt safer with her close, which is weird given what we’re about to do.
What we’re about to do.
Oh my God.
Janessa holds up a bottle of wine. “Wine okay?”
“Um, sure.” Lots of it, please. I distract myself with the photos and force myself to speak so she doesn’t back out, because I’m a silent, nervous wreck that she doesn’t want to help after all. “Jackie’s adorable. Are you still in touch with her father?”
Janessa carries two wineglasses into the living room and hands me one. I take a big drink to calm my nerves. She stands close as we stare at the pictures, me trying to talk myself off the ledge and her probably regretting her offer. I inhale deeply, and the scent of CK One fills my senses. I know it well, since I used to wear it. Ashley wears Obsession by Calvin Klein. I guess I’m a Calvin girl. The thought that I’m an anything girl makes me smile.
Janessa’s arm brushes mine, and the room gets ten degrees hotter.
“Jackie’s dad, well…Do you want the truth or what I tell everyone else?”
She doesn’t sound nervous at all, and when I steal a glance at her, I realize she doesn’t look like she regrets her offer either. Her easy smile reaches her eyes, and it makes me feel a little better.
“I guess whatever you feel comfortable telling me.”
She takes my hand and we sit on the couch facing each other. Her touch makes my nerves go wild again. She puts down her wineglass and I cling to mine like a shield.
“I’m bisexual, Delilah, and there’s a guy in my life that I’ve had an on-again off-again thing with for years. We’re really close friends and we make great lovers, but we aren’t made to be in a monogamous relationship with each other.”
I nod as if I understand, but I really don’t. She had his child. “Why not?”
She sits back and places her hand on my thigh, like she’s touched me a hundred times before. Like it’s natural, normal, and easy. I hold my breath, desperately wanting it to feel normal and easy instead of new and exciting and scary at once.
“Because I like women,” she explains. “Being with a guy isn’t enough for me. I enjoy it, and I enjoy him. But it’s different being with a guy than a girl, and I’m not ready to give up being with women.”
She slides her hand up my thigh as she sits up again and leans in close.
I’m doing this. Here it comes.
Her fingertips slip beneath the edge of my dress, and her soft hand feels so different from Frank’s calloused palm and rough fingers. I immediately understand what she meant. Her touch is gentle, not hurried or forceful. My body inclines toward her despite my nerves.
I lean back again, feeling disjointed, too nervous, and swallow hard to distract myself from how good her hand feels and the thundering of my heart.
“Does Jackie know he’s her father?” I say this to distract myself, but my voice is shaky, like the rest of my body.
I finish my wine in one gulp, and she takes the glass from my hand and sets it on the coffee table. I can feel myself trembling. I hope she doesn’t notice, but how can she not? She’s so close I feel her breath on my skin. She’s even prettier up close, and as she gazes into my eyes and brushes my hair from my shoulder, it reminds me of when Ashley did it earlier that morning. It’s a good reminder that I’m doing this for Ashley. Not that I don’t want to feel Janessa’s full lips on mine. I do. God, I really, really do. But I’d be lying if I didn’t acknowledge that I wish it were Ashley opening herself up to me right now, despite how nervous I am.
“Jackie knows him, and she knows he’s her daddy,” she says just above a whisper. “You’re shaking. Do you still want to do this?”
I’ve
never been this nervous before, but I’m glad I didn’t chicken out.
My answer comes as softly as her question. “Yes.”
She smiles again. “Is it okay if I kiss you?”
Now? She holds my gaze, taking control.
I nod, and she touches her left hand to the nape of my neck, drawing me closer. When our lips touch, the first thing I notice is how soft hers are. She’s patient, kissing me carefully. Her cheeks touch mine, soft and pliable, not at all like a guy’s rough, stubbly skin. This is so much better. Her tongue slips between my lips and strokes over mine with the same unhurried tenderness. Her fingers tighten around the back of my neck as she deepens the kiss, and I feel myself letting go, relaxing into the kiss, into the taste of her, into finally—God, finally—doing what feels natural.
When our lips part, I lean forward, trying to reconnect.
“Okay?” Like her tone, her eyes are soft and warm.
“Oh my God, yes.” Years of curiosity and repressed desire surge forward. I wrap my arms around her neck and run my fingers through her hair as our lips come together again.
Hungrier.
Harder.
And suddenly I’m not trembling anymore. I’m not thinking, barely breathing. Letting my body take over and do what feels good. What feels right. And it’s so much better than when I was lying beneath a guy with his hand pressing too hard, his cheeks scratching mine.
My hand plays over the gentle curve of her shoulder, and I have the urge to kiss it, taste her smooth skin. I draw back, and we’re both breathing heavily, but not panting roughly like guys do. It’s softer, hotter, sexier than anything I’ve ever experienced.
“It’s okay, Delilah. You can touch me.”
I can’t respond, I’m too focused on how good this feels. Being with her, finally being touched by a woman. I press my lips to her shoulder. Her skin is warm and soft. I open my lips and stroke her with my tongue. Her skin has a taste all its own. It’s tangy, not salty like Frank’s. I wonder what Ashley’s skin tastes like. Janessa’s fingers slide beneath my hair, and she cups the back of my head, holding me to her. My body vibrates with anticipation. Her touch is encouraging, not pressuring or hurried. I bring my mouth to the curve of her neck, the dip beneath her ear. She makes a mewing sound, and I know she likes it, so I do it again, feeling empowered, gaining confidence by the second. I trail kisses along her jaw and tease her lips with my own. She moans against my mouth, and God, I never knew a sound could turn me on so much.
I seal my lips over hers and bring my shaky hand to her breast, feeling her taut nipple against my palm, and I feel myself go damp. I’ve wondered what this would be like for so long that I’m still in a state of disbelief, a little detached, like I’m watching it happening. And I don’t want to stop. I want to see what else makes her breathing hitch, but it’s one thing to touch her above her clothing, above the waist, and a whole other thing to venture below.
As if she read my mind, she pulls back. Eyes steady on mine, she takes off her tank top and shakes her head. Her hair tumbles over her breasts. Any ability to restrain myself disappears with the sight of her tousled hair and bare breasts. Her nipples are pink and upturned, her breasts are full and so beautiful it’s impossible for me to look away. I lick my lips, wondering how she tastes, if she’ll mind if I use my mouth instead of my hands. She takes my hand and brings it to her breast again. I have a fleeting thought about how I’m not sure what to do, but my hand seems to know as it explores her body. She slides her hand beneath my dress and rubs my hip as I give in to my desires and bring my mouth to her breast. Her nipple is sweet and tightens as I tease her with my tongue, palming her other breast as she strokes me through my underwear.
Holy hell this feels good.
Wayyyy too good.
My body is on fire. There’s no way in hell this is wrong.
I push the thought away, unable to get enough of her and unwilling to go down a guilty path. I don’t know what I want more, to lean back and be touched or to take my fill. Our mouths crash together, and there’s no choice to be made. She leans in to me, and we paw, grope, taste with wild abandon. Her fingers push beneath my underwear and slide inside me. I moan into her mouth as my hips rock, begging for more. She moves in and out of me in the same urgent rhythm as our tongues mash together. She does something that feels so good that my head falls back, and I have to bite my lip to keep from crying out. She sucks on my neck as her talented fingers work their magic, and in seconds I feel pressure mounting inside me. My insides are reaching for her. My legs tingle and my hips fly off the couch as my eyes slam shut. Lights explode behind my closed lids, and she keeps probing, stroking, keeps openmouthed kissing my neck, as my body bucks and my inner muscles squeeze her fingers over and over again. Her fingers remain inside me until the last pulse of my climax shudders through me, and as I open my eyes, she kisses me softly.
Even in my fantasies I never thought something could feel this good. The student in me awakens, and my focus turns.
“I want to do that to you.” The words escape before I can stop them, but I do want to learn to do that. I want to learn how to make Ashley feel that good. Hell, I want to feel that good again. Guys have nothing on Janessa. I wonder if all women other than me know how to do that.
She smiles. “I was hoping you would.”
“God, Janessa. How’d you learn to do that?”
“Practice.”
She wraps her arms around my neck and leans back against the arm of the couch, bringing me down on top of her. I kick off my boots and settle my body between her legs. We’re hip to hip, and again I notice the difference between Frank’s hard muscles and the soft pillows of Janessa’s breasts, the feel of her tender hands on my arms. The lack of a hard rod between us, pressing into my stomach. There’s only soft femininity. I kiss her lips and let my mouth travel south, paving the way for my hands, lingering, exploring her breasts again with shaky hands. I’m nervous, but it’s different this time. I’m in student mode, and somehow that makes it a little easier. I’m even more detached, taking mental notes of what makes her hips meet mine, what earns me a moan or a gasp.
“That feels so good.” She holds the back of my head, keeping my mouth over her breast as I lap her nipple, then take her breast into my mouth again.
I kiss a path down the flat plane of her stomach. It’s nice not to have to battle with a man’s chest hair. I never thought about how many things I didn’t like about being with guys, but it’s all coming to the forefront. From their heady scent to the roughness of their skin. I can’t help but wonder what Ashley’s naked body would feel like. I play her image over and over in my mind as I explore Janessa’s stomach, her ribs, her hips. When I get to her miniskirt, I lick above the waist of the material, which is right above her pubic bone, and then I lean back a little, pressing my hands to her thighs, and I stop.
I don’t know how to do this.
I’m going to do it wrong.
“It’s okay,” she whispers. “Don’t feel pressure, Delilah. You don’t have to do anything.”
“No. I want to. I just…” Don’t know how.
She sits up and presses her hands to my cheeks, then kisses me softly. “You can’t do it wrong. Just do what you want Ashley to do to you.”
A dreamy sigh escapes before I can stop it. Hearing Ashley’s name linked to something so sexual makes butterflies take flight in my stomach. I want to be with her so badly I ache.
I’m so thankful Janessa understands. We don’t say anything more. She eases onto her back and closes her eyes, which makes it much less stressful for me. I lower my lips to her belly and allow my hands to feel the softness of her thighs, the heat between her legs. I use both hands to lower her thong. She smiles as we maneuver around each other to get it completely off, and then she eases back down. She’s so patient, which makes me a little less embarrassed. Everyone should have someone like Janessa to walk them through their first time.
I close my eyes as I explore her body
and think, Do what I want Ashley to do to me. My hands splay wide across the tops of her thighs. I slide them up until my thumbs touch, feeling the heat of her sex. I brush over her wetness, marveling in the slick, warm feel of her skin. I move my thumbs up, nimbly find her clit, and caress it gently, stroking her with my other hand. When my fingers sink inside her wetness, she breathes harder.
I hardly breathe at all.
Her eyes are closed and her head is tilted back, lips slightly parted. I’m still unsure about my skills, but when her hips rise off the couch and she grips the cushions in fisted hands, I guess I’m doing something right. My head is in a strange place, learning, watching, wanting to take her to the mind-numbing place she took me.
I try to find the spot inside her that will make her lose control, and I feel like I’m fumbling and losing confidence. She’s writhing like she likes it, but I know I’m not getting her there. She’s not lost in sensation like I was, and I desperately want to learn this. Somehow I know this will be my only lesson.
I can do this. I have to do this. I have to ask. I gather all the courage I can possibly hold on to in the three seconds I give myself and plead, “Show me.”
Her hands unfurl. “Yes,” she says in one long whisper.
“I’m sorry.” I draw away, embarrassed to have asked for guidance.
She sits up and kisses me. “Delilah, you’re perfect. You’re wonderful. If Ashley’s into girls, then you’re going to make her a very happy woman. This—like anything else in life—is perfected with experience. Every woman’s body is different.”
I deflate a little. Is she trying to tell me that she can’t teach me? I imagine googling How to Make a Girl Come, and I shift my eyes away.
She kisses me again, but I’m so focused that I’m anxious and I push her gently away.
“Can you—” Show me, show me, show me.
She nods. “When you put your finger inside, put it all the way in, and then do this.” She turns her palm up and moves her finger in a come-hither way. “As you…explore…you’ll find a spot that feels different from the rest. Ridged, or rougher. That’s the G-spot, but some women don’t respond to it, so if you can’t find it, don’t worry. Chances are it’s not something you’re doing wrong, and honestly, that’s like an added bonus. You can get a woman over the edge by just doing what you were doing, so don’t stress over this, okay? Your touch is amazing.”
Discovering Delilah Page 4