by Gun Brooke
“I’m not mad. Not at all.” It was true, she thought as she climbed onto the bed. She scooted under the covers, needing to be close to Blythe, to help her not be afraid. “I was hurt and definitely thought you were angry. I should’ve talked to you last night, but I’m here now.”
“Thank God.” Blythe pushed her face against Evie’s neck. “I’m sorry for acting the way I did. So immature of me.”
“Hey, you weren’t the only immature one. I think we both regressed.”
“Yeah.” Blythe flinched at the next bolt of lightning. “So glad you’re here.” Her teeth actually clattered.
“I am, and I’m not going anywhere.” She rubbed her hands up and down Blythe’s back and side. “Feel me?”
“I do. I certainly do.” Blythe pressed her lips against the pulse point on her neck. “Mmm. Keep it up, please?”
She moaned. Her nipples tightened as she ran her hands along Blythe’s body, slipping them underneath her T-shirt. She had longed to do this again, to feel Blythe pressed against her and to hear the sounds Blythe made when passion gripped her.
“Mmm.” Blythe arched into her hands. “You’re like fire. Hot.”
“And you…are soft.” She pulled Blythe’s T-shirt over her head and threw it on the floor. “I want to taste you so badly.” Pressing her legs together, she tried to calm her libido, to focus on Blythe. What had started as a way to distract her was now all about pleasure.
“Don’t let me stop you.” Blythe cupped her cheeks. “Where would you like to start?”
More thunder boomed, and even though Blythe jumped, she didn’t look panicked.
“Hmm. Right here.” She pressed her lips to Blythe’s, sliding her tongue along them, parting them. She deepened the kiss, tasting Blythe’s tongue, the roof of her mouth, the inside of her lips, everything. She wasn’t disappointed. It was even better than she remembered. Soft, yielding, but oh so thirsty, Blythe returned the kisses feverishly, whimpering deliciously the whole time.
Reluctantly, she allowed her mouth to travel down Blythe’s neck, across her chest, only to latch onto her left breast. Her nipple, impossibly hard and swollen, puckered even more when she sucked it. She turned her head slightly, used her molars to chew, just enough to illicit a tiny flicker of pain. When Blythe yelped, she used her tongue to soothe and repeated the maneuvers several times before she moved on to the right nipple. When it seemed that Blythe couldn’t take much more of the attention to her breasts, she continued her journey down Blythe’s body.
“Oh. Oh!” Blythe became rigid when she nuzzled the blond curls at the apex of her thighs. “I…no. I haven’t.” She wasn’t making sense, but the tone in her voice, tinged with stress, made Evie stop and look up.
“What’s wrong, sweetie?”
“God. I’m embarrassed.” Blythe covered her face with her hand. “I’m so turned on. I’m sure you can tell.”
“That’s all right. That’s how it should be. Nothing to be embarrassed about.” Was Blythe really shy about being wet? Evie frowned. That didn’t make sense. When they’d made love the previous time, they’d both been very wet.
“No. Not that. I’m not as experienced as you…um, might be. I’ve only tried that once. It didn’t work.”
She moved up and removed Blythe’s hand from her face. “What do you mean?”
“Touching me. Going down on me. Don’t think it works.” Blythe avoided her glance.
“I’m not claiming to be an expert, but I’d like to try, as long as it doesn’t turn you off.” Smiling tenderly, she kissed the palm of Blythe’s hand, tickling it with the tip of her tongue.
“All right. Just so you know.” Blythe’s voice quivered.
“Shh. I’m focusing.” And she wasn’t joking. She was absorbed by the texture and the scent of Blythe. She nudged Blythe’s legs apart and moved in between them. Looking up at Blythe, she caressed her thighs, slowly, gently. “Let me know if you don’t like it. Okay?”
“Okay,” Blythe whispered.
Thunder, more distant, but loud enough to make Blythe flinch, rolled along the horizon. Evie pushed her shoulders underneath Blythe’s thighs, kissing the soft skin on the inside of them. “Soft. So soft.” She ran her tongue over the velvety skin, and every time she reached the slick folds between Blythe’s legs, she simply moved to another spot, nuzzling, kissing, licking, and nipping. Eventually, Blythe tugged at her hair, her breath ragged.
“You’re teasing me. Just do it. Please. Please.”
“Happy to.” She spread Blythe’s folds with careful fingers. Encouraged by the amount of wetness, she began the intimate caresses, from the top where Blythe’s swollen clitoris throbbed under her tongue, to the source of the wetness, the core of Blythe’s sex. She started out very gently, but soon found that Blythe responded well to a firmer touch. She loved the taste of her lover, reveled in it as she twirled her tongue and sucked at the tender folds. She placed the tip of her index finger at Blythe’s entrance, moving it in a slow circle.
“Yes. Inside. Take me. I need you to take me.” Blythe’s voice was so hoarse now, it was barely recognizable. “Evangeline…”
“Mine.” She pushed her finger inside and the tightness pulsated around her. “Oh, God, Blythe, you’re soaked. You’re so hot.”
“Burning,” Blythe muttered.
She resumed licking Blythe’s clit, circling it as she let her finger circle inside her. Her own sex created so much wetness that it should’ve been embarrassing, but she could think of nothing but pleasuring Blythe. Blythe’s heels dug into her back and she had to hold on to her hips to not lose her grip of her. She added another finger and Blythe drew a howling breath before hyperventilating.
“Too much?” She looked up at Blythe.
“No. Good. Burning, but good. So good. So good.” Blythe undulated, rode her intrusive fingers in a flowing motion back and forth. Every time Blythe pushed toward her, she licked her clit. When Blythe made a keening, wailing sound and pressed harder onto her fingers, she decided it was time. The slick walls around her fingers were fluttering. She pressed her open mouth to Blythe’s clit and sucked it in between her lips. Flicking her tongue against it, she heard Blythe cry out.
“Oh. Yes. Evangeline. Yes. Oh. Oh!” Blythe’s muscles held her fingers in a vise, and she was so tense Evie for a frightening moment feared she might fracture her back. Then Blythe slumped backward, ending up in a gasping, sweaty pile among the pillows. Evie slowly pulled her fingers free and moved to hold her tight.
Blythe had something else in mind. “My turn,” she said huskily. “Your turn.”
“Huh?” She stared in disbelief when the deeply satiated Blythe merely rolled her onto her back and moved on top.
“You said I was yours. That goes both ways,” Blythe said, sounding intense. “Spread your legs.” It wasn’t a suggestion.
Happy to oblige, she parted her legs and made room for Blythe.
“I’m no expert. In fact, I’m a total newbie at this. Just your luck.” She looked curiously at Evie’s sex. “I need some light.”
“Really?” Now Evie wondered what she’d gotten herself in to. “That’s not necessary.”
“I want to see what I’m doing, so I know that I’m not hurting you.” Blythe sounded decisive as she switched on the small bedside lamp. It could have been worse. Blythe could have opted for the large ceiling-fan lamp.
“Better,” Blythe said as she repositioned herself between Evie’s legs. She lay down on her stomach with her chin close to Evie’s pubic mound and ran her fingertips along the trimmed hair. “So neat.” She spread the folds and looked closely at the drenched area, long enough to make Evie’s cheeks go hot. They were probably red, and her chest and neck too. Blythe might not know how ready she was, how close she was to coming, but she would soon if she kept up the touching and caressing. This curious fondling was unexpectedly sexy. Naughty, in a strange way.
Blythe suddenly flattened her tongue against Evie’s clitoris and massaged it relen
tlessly. It was almost too much, too soon, but it was also all it took. The view of the blond, curly head moving between her legs added intensity. She whimpered Blythe’s name, over and over.
Soon, Blythe obviously realized she couldn’t tolerate any more touching of her most sensitive parts. Blythe looked up, smiling her stunning, shy smile. “Good, Evangeline?”
“Any better and I’d be dead.” She held out her arms and Blythe moved quickly up along her body and hugged her.
“Oh, God, Evie. You make me feel so good. So alive.”
“Strange. You do the same for me. Coincidence? I think not.” She pressed her lips against Blythe’s hair. “You’re one sexy woman, Blythe Pierce.”
“You’re the sexy one. I don’t know how you do that. You ooze it. You’re just so effortlessly sensual.”
“Well, I don’t see it, of course. Makes sense that I see the same in you and you don’t. You only have to look at me a certain way, and I want to rip your clothes off and throw you onto the closest surface and have my way with you.”
“The closest surface?” Blythe looked up in mock suspicion. “You better choose comfortable surfaces. I’m no teenager you can fling over the hood of a car.” She blanched and then blushed.
“What? What’s going through that head of yours?”
“Eh, nothing. Really.” Blythe covered her eyes with her hand again. “I just had this image of you throwing me facedown across the hood of your Viper.”
“Mmm. Hot. Very hot.” She tugged Blythe’s hand away from her face. “Who knows? That might just happen one of these days.”
“I can’t wait.”
She turned off the light and they settled under the covers as the storm receded. Somewhere in the house an old clock pinged softly. She inhaled Blythe’s scent, mixed with her own, and the unmistakable scent of their lovemaking. Not sure why the sounds and the smells made her feel so safe and at ease, she wiped at unexpected tears.
“Evangeline, what’s the matter?” Blythe spoke with concern, then kissed her wet eyelashes. “Do you regret it?”
“Never. Never in a million years.” She didn’t know how to explain without sounding completely silly. “I’m just happy. Happy that we’re okay together.”
“I’d say we’re more than okay. We’re like fireworks together, wouldn’t you agree?” Blythe had a smile in her voice.
“Definitely. I don’t mean to sound sappy, but for me it’s like the world has been knocked back on its axis a little. I hate it when we misunderstand each other’s intentions.”
“Oh, so do I. I don’t know why, or how, but your happiness, and your safety, have become so important to me. I know it’s happened fast. Perhaps too fast.”
“Not really. Perhaps it feels quick because you’re such a fiercely private person.”
“What do you mean?” Blythe caressed her cheek.
“We’ve known each other for over a year. Even if we weren’t physically in the same place during my recovery, we’ve thought of each other, haven’t we?”
“I thought of you a lot. Every day. I didn’t think you gave me a second thought. You had enough on your plate, working on getting better, on recovering.”
“True, but you have to understand that you were among the last faces I saw before I participated in that race. I don’t know if it was a dream or real, but I saw you when I was on some gurney or something?” She had meant to ask this question many times, but never gotten around to it.
“No. You didn’t dream it. I was there. By then I was in some sort of shock and had stopped shooting. I was in the pit with your team when they carried you to the ambulance that took you to the helicopter. You were unconscious, or so I thought, and for a moment I was afraid you were dead. I had to touch you, to feel that you were still here, still with us.”
“So it wasn’t a dream. I did see you. Were you crying?”
“I thought you’d died. When I saw the pileup and how you plowed right into that burning debris, I thought I was documenting death—again.” Blythe wiped at her face.
She held Blythe closer. “And you’ve done that enough, haven’t you? You’ve been there too many times and witnessed young lives cut short.”
“Yes.”
She wanted to ask Blythe if she was afraid of history repeating itself when they went down to the Miami Speedway, but she didn’t dare, afraid if Blythe expressed such fears they would attach themselves to her and fester. Instead, she kissed Blythe’s trembling lips and deliberately used the immense attraction between them as a distraction. Running the tip of her tongue along Blythe’s jawline, she welcomed the tremors in both of them. “You feel it too. The connection.” It really was an extraordinary sensation. All she had to do was kiss or caress Blythe and her mind switched into full-steam-ahead passion.
“I do.” Blythe gasped and wrapped a leg around hers. “It’s great.”
“Yeah, it is.” She smiled into the darkness and relaxed again. It probably wouldn’t take much to make them both go again, but for now she was content to hold Blythe and sleep. “We have tomorrow off too. Good, huh?”
“Yes.” Blythe sounded sleepy. “And I think you’re right. I should take the opportunity to check on things. With my family and so on.”
Her eyes snapped open. Had she heard right? Afraid to make the wrong assumption, she merely said, “I’m with you no matter what you choose to do.”
“Thanks.” Blythe’s breathing grew even and deeper.
She held Blythe in her arms until it was obvious that she was deeply asleep. Only then could she relax enough to drift off.
Chapter Twenty-two
Blythe gripped the wheel of Evie’s car tight, gazing at the bungalow situated in a lush garden. Memories of hiding in the far corner, where she and her younger sister had built a playhouse of plywood boards, washed over her. The house looked smaller, as did the lot.
“Imagine living so many years in the same house.” Evie held her hand on Blythe’s thigh, caressing it gently. A week had gone by since the thunderstorm, and Evie’s touch was completely addictive and something on which she had come to rely. This in itself was a dangerous train of thought, since they hadn’t discussed any type of future, but nevertheless true.
“I figured out that we moved here when I was six. We lived closer to Raleigh before then. So what does that add up to? Thirty-six years.”
“Guess they like it here.”
She checked the time on the dashboard. It was time. “Let’s go.”
They stepped out of the car, and she had her jaw so clenched she was afraid she’d chip her teeth.
“Just remember I’m with you. You’ll be fine. You’re not the bullied teenager anymore.”
“Thanks.” She regarded the smiling Evie with gratitude. She doubted she would’ve even contemplated doing this on her own. Not like this, out of the blue. She’d called her mother two days ago, setting up this meeting, but kept it short over the phone.
The door opened when they were halfway up the flagstone path. A diminutive woman with reddish blond hair stood in the doorway, a hand clasped over her mouth.
“Blythe?” Her mother blinked at the thick tears flooding her eyes. “Oh, God.”
“Hello, Mom.” She pushed her hands into her pockets and stopped just below the porch.
“Come inside. Please.” Samantha Murphy stepped aside to let them in.
Evie greeted her mother. “Hello, Mrs. Murphy. I’m Evie.”
“Nice to meet a friend of Blythe’s.” Samantha was equally polite, but the deep frown line between her eyebrows spoke of her curiosity. As a teenager, Blythe had seen that wrinkle go increasingly deeper.
“Blythe!” A blond whirlwind flew through the living room door. She threw her arms around Blythe’s neck and hugged her hard. “Oh, Blythe, Blythe, I didn’t even believe Mama when she said you’d be coming home. I’ve missed you so much.”
“Susie. Hello.” Words eluded her, but she returned the embrace, keeping her eyes on Evie as she hugged her little
sister.
“Oh, goodness, sis, where have you been? Why did you stay away so long? How come you never called?”
“Let’s go inside and sit down,” Samantha said, sounding oddly calm. She had clearly wiped her tears and now motioned them all to step inside the living room. It faced the garden, where a pool was the biggest difference compared to twenty-four years ago.
Two men rose as the women entered. Time hadn’t been kind to her father. He looked hunched over, his thin hair sandy gray. Trevor looked impossibly young and in good shape at the age of forty-three. His shock of hair was the same color blond as it had been at nineteen.
“Blythe.” Trevor appeared as moved as Susie did.
She glanced at her father. Carl looked in control, calm. Like long-lost daughters were commonplace and nothing to fret about. “Hello, Trevor. Dad.”
“This is Blythe’s friend. Evie, wasn’t it?” Samantha said, her wide smile not entirely happy.
“That’s right. Hello, everybody.”
“What’s she doing here, Blythe?” Carl asked, looking at his oldest daughter. “This is a family affair.”
“I wanted Evie to join me. She’s a friend.”
“And we’re your family.” Carl raised his voice a little. “That used to count for something.”
“Don’t be like that, Daddy,” Susie said. “Blythe is finally home again. We’ve all missed her.”
“Have you missed us, Blythe?” Carl asked, his voice as steely as ever. “One note saying ‘I’m alive and doing well’ every Christmas is hardly detailed enough. Not once did you ask about us, did you?”
“Carl. Please. Let the girl sit down, for heaven’s sake.” Samantha gestured toward the group of couches by the window. “Please. I’ve got coffee coming. You drink coffee, Evie?”
“Yes, I do. Want me to give you a hand, Samantha?”
Blythe wanted to hold on to Evie, make her stay.
“No, no. Susie will help me with the tray, won’t you, Susie?”
“Sure, Mama.” The two women seemed quite relieved to leave the room for a bit. Blythe didn’t blame them.