Never Enough

by Robyn Nyx

  Madison lifted her ass from the bed and forced herself farther onto Elodie’s fingers. Her moans became louder, and she shouted out yet more expletives. The pace of her hips meeting Elodie’s rhythm quickened, and her whole body shook violently. Her muscles clamped down hard and kept Elodie exactly where she wanted her.

  “Now, baby.”

  They’d never been here before, but somehow Elodie knew exactly what Madison needed. She powered her fingers in as deep as they would go.

  “Oh my GOD!”

  Madison bucked so wildly beneath Elodie that she struggled to stay inside her, but there was no way she was coming out of her yet. Madison stilled, opened her eyes, and focused on Elodie, who felt like she’d just won another Best Actor Oscar.

  “Baby…”

  Elodie slowly picked up her rhythm again and fixed her mouth around Madison’s breast.

  “Oh fuck…”

  She pumped her arm, and the faster she went, the more Madison’s body heaved in delight. Elodie grinned mischievously; that Madison was connected to her sexuality so acutely was just another indication that they were a damn fine match. This felt so right, easy, and natural, like they’d been doing it for years, that Elodie might be inclined to revisit her generalized dismissal of all things spiritual. Something had brought them together.

  Madison came again, screaming out Elodie’s name in that way that made her think she might come from just hearing it. Elodie paused to enjoy Madison’s body. She looked so relaxed and satisfied, her natural voluptuous curves rising and falling in semi-exhaustion. She was so wonderfully real, completely different from the women Elodie usually fucked. Rewind. I didn’t just fuck her.

  Stop thinking. Just feel.

  Elodie leaned over, kissed her vehemently, and began to work her fingers inside her again. Madison’s hand clamped around Elodie’s wrist to stop her.

  “Your turn, handsome.”

  Madison slowly extracted Elodie’s fingers from inside her with a breathy gasp. She sat up and kissed Elodie hard as she guided her onto her back. She undid the rope tie on Elodie’s shorts and pulled at the waistband. Elodie lifted her hips obligingly so Madison could pull them off successfully, though they got caught around her feet. There was an awkwardness in disrobing that sometimes stunted the spontaneity of a sexual moment, but Elodie and Madison just looked at each other and laughed. Madison’s laughter was soon replaced by a lascivious growl when she registered Elodie wasn’t wearing any panties. She lay down beside her and traced her fingers around the light ridges on Elodie’s stomach. She followed the central line between her rib cage up to her breasts, before squeezing her nipple between her index and middle finger. Elodie took a sharp intake of breath, and Madison raked her nails from Elodie’s shoulder, over her bicep and down, pausing momentarily to caress the snake tattoo on her forearm. As she reached Elodie’s palm, her lower body was rising from the bed and pushing toward her.

  The corner of Madison’s mouth curled up as she saw the effect she was having on Elodie. “You like my nails?”

  “They seem to have found a direct connection to my happy parts, yeah.” The feeling surprised Elodie. She was a giver, always had been, and when women did try to give back, she soon grew impatient with their efforts and would flip them back over to receive again. It wasn’t that she didn’t enjoy receiving, it was just that she’d much rather be the one dishing out the pleasure, and she took enough satisfaction from that herself.

  Madison drew another line from Elodie’s palm, across her stomach, and down her thighs to her feet. When Madison’s nails scraped the underside of her feet, Elodie squealed and kicked out, unable to control herself.

  Madison laughed lightly. “Sensitive much?”

  “Apparently.”

  Madison gripped Elodie’s ankle with her right hand and sketched the lines of a windy river on the arch of her foot. As Elodie twisted and writhed, she grabbed a pillow and bit down on it in an effort to control the involuntarily jerking of her foot. Her reaction made Madison do it all the more, until she lifted Elodie’s foot to her mouth, and her tongue followed a similar path.

  “Jesus, babe, you’re gonna make me come if you keep on doing that.”

  Madison stopped. “And that would be a problem why?”

  She grinned and returned to Elodie’s foot to suck on each toe, paying close attention to how she reacted, like she wanted to learn everything that aroused her. Madison’s left hand snaked a path along Elodie’s thigh and came to rest between her legs. She pushed two fingers inside her and let out a lusty sigh.

  “Oh fuck, you feel good.” Madison released Elodie’s foot and knelt between her thighs.

  She pressed her palm to Elodie’s and their fingers interlocked, fitting together like two perfect puzzle pieces.

  “I should warn you, Mads, no one’s ever made me come from fucking me.” Elodie was bashful admitting such a thing, but she didn’t want Madison to be disappointed, particularly given how quickly she’d orgasmed. She also didn’t want to fake it, as she’d done before. She wanted this to be honest and real in a way she’d never needed.

  “That sounds like a challenge. Unless you don’t like being fucked?”

  “No, babe, it’s not a challenge. I don’t think I’m built that way, and women tend to get bored if they don’t see a payoff. I’m a big fan of Freud’s immature orgasms, though.”

  “So, do you like being penetrated, or prefer just to have your clit enjoyed?”

  “It feels good, yeah. I guess not many people have bothered to do it enough. People expect orgasms or they think they’ve failed.”

  “Well, I’m bothered enough, and I’ll have plenty of fun trying even if I do fail.”

  Madison moved her fingers inside Elodie, and she let out an encouraging sigh. She bowed her head and drew her tongue over Elodie’s nipples before pulling one into her mouth and sucking on it hard. Elodie moved appreciatively under Madison’s hand. Whatever she was doing, it felt damn good, and Elodie was in no hurry for it to stop.

  Madison shuffled down the bed and lowered her face to Elodie’s wet core. She tongued her clit lightly before she drew the whole hood into her mouth. She pulled her fingers out and Elodie moaned, lamenting their absence instantly, and her hips rose from the bed trying to follow them. Madison pressed her hand, slick with Elodie’s juices, onto her stomach and forced her back down. Their other hands still entwined, Elodie squeezed petulantly, bemoaning the vacuum Madison had created. Madison looked at her with knowing eyes.

  “I want you to focus on my mouth, baby.” She pressed her lips back where Elodie needed them and centered her efforts.

  “I hope you’ve got stamina, babe, because I take a while.” Even when she was playing with herself, Elodie took the best part of an hour to come, usually thinking about some fantasy or other. When someone else was down there trying to make her come, she’d never been able to orgasm just with the feel of someone’s mouth on her. She always accompanied their efforts with a graphic video playing in her head. They were lucky if they even featured in it, though they never knew.

  “Baby, will you just relax and let me enjoy you?”

  Elodie wanted more than anything to do that. She wanted to be present entirely in this moment, not off somewhere in her head down a dirty alley with a group of horny ruffians. She wanted Madison to be the first woman to make her come by stimulus alone and just by enjoying the fact that it was her between her thighs. She relaxed back onto the bed and stuffed the pillow under her head so she could get a good look at Madison while she worked on her. Her long hair cascaded over Elodie’s thighs and stomach, and it felt so soft and silken. It was a vision she’d been having since they’d met, and it was even better than it had promised to be. It didn’t take long for Madison to figure out exactly what she liked, and Elodie could feel the intensity building already. She placed her free hand on Madison’s head and pulled her in closer. Madison moaned and carried on, her hips rising and grinding onto the mattress as if she might come just
from sucking Elodie off.

  “Oh…God…that’s…so…fucking good.”

  She sank back into the pillow as she felt her climax rise. The throb developed into something altogether different, feeling like her ass was weightless and rising from the bed. She tried not to let her pussy contract, knowing that if she did, it’d tip her over the edge into the orgasm, and she wanted this to last for as long as possible. She took one last look at Madison, whose striking blue eyes were staring right back at her, looking as high as she felt, and it was all she needed. She cried out with primal passion, riding Madison’s face as she surfed the shuddering orgasm to shore.

  When Elodie raised her head from the pillow after fully enjoying the post-orgasm aftermath, Madison was looking suitably pleased with herself. Elodie could see her own cum completely covering her chin. Madison lowered her head again, but Elodie tried to wriggle free.

  “Babe, I take time to recharge.”

  “So you say.” Madison had clearly impressed herself with the relative speed in which she’d made Elodie come, compared to how long she’d said she’d take.

  “Hold me?” Elodie suddenly felt undeniably vulnerable and completely laid open. The honesty she sought in other women when she fucked them had claimed her too. Somehow, Madison had managed to reach beyond all her bullshit and pull out the real Elodie, a self she’d long forgotten existed, and a self perhaps even she wasn’t familiar with. As Elodie lay, still and perfectly at peace on Madison’s chest, she released a long, deep sigh.

  “That’s a big sigh, baby. Are you okay?”

  “I’m perfect, gorgeous. I’m just relaxed.” Elodie didn’t want to expand and scare Madison with the full extent of what she was thinking and feeling. She was agonizingly aware that her beautifully crafted barrier had been breached. Madison had scaled its impossibly high walls with the athleticism of a ninja and in less time than it had taken the sex sweat to bead on their bodies. She had crawled under Elodie’s skin, and strangely, though it should have been irritating, it felt significantly symbiotic. Elodie felt completeness in herself and an absolute absorption in another, in Madison. Inextricably linked with a pure physicality and undeniable otherworldly energy, their sex had indeed matched their impassioned conversations, and Elodie was convinced that she was truly enchanted with Madison.

  “If this is gonna work, baby, you’re gonna have to start sharing what’s really going on in that pretty little head of yours.”

  Elodie smiled, though once again slightly disconcerted with Madison’s unerring perception of her stream of consciousness. “So you’ll be back?” Elodie surprised herself with the question, but she had to know whether this was going to be a one-time thing.

  “Do you really need to ask?”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Therese watched from the garden as FBI Special Agent John Reed scurried up the steps of the Walt Disney Concert Hall with a thick padded brown envelope clutched in his right hand. She knew he’d be relieved they were meeting in a public place. Nat had said he was suitably anxious for his own safety after their last conversation with him. She’d taken the time to explain that his prominent position within the agency was no deterrent for Therese—criminal, innocent, or lawman—she didn’t discriminate. He thought she was a crazy bitch. She’d seen it in his eyes when he’d witnessed firsthand her vicious penchant for sadistic torture and killing. Crazy was unpredictable and volatile. Crazy didn’t care for consequences. The knowledge of her downright disregard for the law made people pliable and responsive to her demands, and Reed was no different.

  She headed back to the outdoor stage and paused at the Lillian Disney fountain. She didn’t much care for public art. It all seemed so condescending, the so-called creatives of the world trying to bring great art to the attention of the ignorant masses. Or rather, what they thought was great art. But she did have a particular fondness for this one: a massive rose made from eight thousand broken tiles and two hundred smashed vases. She liked the idea of destroying something that was already beautiful to make something even more so. And she enjoyed the occasional sharp feeling of the rose’s curves beneath her fingers as she caressed its oversized petals, threatening to make you bleed if you touched it just the wrong way. For over a decade since its creation, Therese had considered it a tribute to herself.

  Reed was already at the stage with Nat when Therese made it back. A selection of happy-snappy tourists milled around, trying to capture the perfect Facebook cover photo of the Gehry architecture. They wouldn’t have been so keen if it’d ended up being made of stone, as was originally planned. As always, the hordes were blissfully ignorant.

  Reed stood as she approached and smiled widely. He was clearly pleased with himself, but the fresh sweat stains on his button-down oxford shirt was a truer picture of his level of comfort.

  “So you’ve discovered who Gillian sent a second package to, yes?”

  He sat and adjusted the material of his beige cargo pants around his crotch. “It took a lot of grunt work, but I can answer that question in the affirmative.”

  “It’s good you finally came through—just in time.” Therese hadn’t really planned to kill Reed. He was useful and had proved his worth a few times over with details about planned FBI raids. She couldn’t particularly be bothered to groom another FBI schmuck as her mole. It took time and money, neither of which she liked to waste.

  “I’m in no hurry to become another infamous victim of your inhumane interest in theatrical carnage.”

  Therese raised an eyebrow, appreciating his use of language. “That sounds like a tag line. Maybe I should have that on my business cards.”

  Nat laughed. “I’ll get right on that.”

  “Do I have a problem?” Therese returned to the reason for their meeting.

  Reed paused and measured his words carefully. “Well, there’s not a simple answer to that question, I’m afraid.”

  Therese shot him a warning look. “You should be. Explain.”

  “Have you heard of Madison Ford?”

  “No. Should I know her?”

  “She’s quite a famous print journalist. She’s a recent winner of a Pulitzer: a fascinating article on a male to female transition, actually. And she’s done a lot of reporting from war zones.”

  It was bad enough when Reed said the word “journalist.” When he added that she’d won one of the most sought after awards in journalism, the situation worsened. “I’m gonna assume that this isn’t your idea of a joke.”

  “Of course. I know what’s at stake here.”

  “Show me what you have.” Therese began formulating a plan.

  Reed opened up the thick envelope and pulled out photos of an attractive blond-haired woman with a full figure, exactly as Powell had described her. Therese liked the look of her and saw Nat nod appreciatively. One of the worst things about living in L.A. was the seemingly infinite number of skeletal women parading around, obsessed with sculpting their bodies to fit the nonsensical Hollywood ideal conceived to satisfy the unrealistic notion of male-defined perfection.

  “What do you know about her?” Therese pictured Madison tied to a chair, bloodied and bruised after Nat had worked her over while she watched. She wondered how long it would take to break her. It’d be a shame to kill her, but she had to look after her interests. She was too close to making the offshore facility happen to be thwarted. This journalist was pretty, but she was a threat, so she’d have to die…eventually.

  “She was born in Baldwin Park, California. Her father was a highly decorated cop, her mother a waitress, and she’s their only child. Her mother was ill a lot while Ford was growing up, and there’s some indication that the father might’ve been abusive to both of them, but no charges were ever filed. She left for Princeton on a scholarship when she was just sixteen, and her mother died shortly after. She travels the world extensively with her journalism and hasn’t settled down. She’s had a few relationships, mostly with women, but nothing that lasted, so there’s no husband / wife a
ngle you can exploit. Her only friends seem to be the people she works with when their paths cross. And since she hasn’t really spoken to her father in over two decades, there’s not much point snatching him.”

  “Bad things happen to journalists all the time. Where is she right now?”

  “Well, that’s the good news. She’s here in L.A., and as far as I can tell, she’s not on an assignment. Though she did just finish a very interesting piece on Elodie Fontaine.”

  “Really? Nat, get me a copy of whatever magazine that’s in.” Therese was temporarily distracted by filthy thoughts of the goddess movie star. Fontaine was a woman she’d like to see on her knees with her mouth stuffed full of Therese’s cock. Nat nodded, and Therese could practically see the similarly lewd thoughts race through her mind. She couldn’t decide if it’d be more fun to fuck her alone or double-team her with Nat. She’d spend some time thinking about that more this evening in bed. “So we snatch her and take her to the island. Find out what she knows and if she’s been talking to anyone else.”

  “She’s already been in touch with us. They put her through to me, and I’ve been stalling her, but she’s not given anything up. She seems a little suspicious, so I assume the package from Gillian must have contained some conjecture on your connections with the Bureau. I’m hoping that’s all it is. I was under the impression my ‘assistance’ was very much on a need-to-know basis, with only you and Nat needing to know? That is what we agreed.”

  Therese put her hand on Reed’s shoulder and squeezed on a pressure point a little too hard for comfort. He sank slightly toward the steps and grunted quietly. “Worried for yourself, Special Agent?” She released him, and he massaged his shoulder without a word of complaint, though she saw a fleeting flash of animosity in his eyes.