Threads of the Heart

by Jeannie Levig

Addison seethed. “I’m not going to have this conversation with you. You don’t know anything about Victoria. She’s a client and nothing more. I’m not going to do anything with anyone other than Maggie. And you don’t know a damned thing about anything!”

  Clearly unaffected by Addison’s attack, Dusty took another slow swallow of beer. “I know this a lot better than you do. Trust me. I recognize Victoria because I’ve been Victoria.” She studied Addison. “Where does Maggie think you are tonight?”

  “Not that it’s any of your business, but Maggie knows I’m showing Victoria around town. She’s fine with it. Nothing’s going on.”

  “Did everyone say what they needed to say while I was gone?” Victoria asked as she approached the table. “Or should I kill some more time ordering another round of drinks?”

  “Yep, we’re done,” Dusty said with a smile.

  “All is well, I trust?” Victoria met Dusty’s direct gaze.

  “Absolutely.”

  Addison continued to watch the interaction with a mingling of fascination and irritation. She just wanted Dusty to leave. No, she wanted her never to have shown up in the first place, never to have seen her and Victoria together. She downed the remainder of her cosmopolitan with a grimace. She wanted a drink of Dusty’s beer.

  “You want to dance?” Dusty’s question jolted Addison’s attention back to the table.

  “Oh, no, thank you. Addison is doing a great job of that as well. And speaking of which, Addison, are you ready to hit the dance floor again?”

  “Sure,” Addison said, still amazed by this new turn of events. In what universe did women choose her over Dusty?

  “You’ll excuse us, won’t you?” Victoria asked Dusty.

  “Of course. You kids behave.” Dusty lifted her beer bottle to them as they turned to leave.

  They stepped onto the dance floor in the middle of a fast song. It felt good to let loose. The tension of the last twenty minutes drained out of Addison’s shoulders, the anger at Dusty’s intrusion settling down into some dark place. Once again, Addison felt herself drawn in by Victoria’s movements, by her smile, by her beauty, by her unwavering attention. It was the latter she found the most seductive.

  When the next song began, it was a slow version of the old song “Yours,” one sung by a woman, Belinda something. Or was it Bernita? Addison loved this version. It was from some movie soundtrack. She couldn’t remember which one. It seemed the movie itself wasn’t very good, but the song…Victoria stepped into her arms, and all other thoughts ceased.

  “When the lights go down and the music plays, I see only you as your body sways,” the woman sang. “You are the breeze that fans my desire. Your eyes hold the spark that lights me on fire.”

  Victoria tightened her arms around Addison’s neck and pressed their bodies firmly together. Her intent was undeniably, utterly, clear.

  The intensity of Victoria’s gaze made Addison slightly weak. She closed her eyes for an instant and was sheathed in scent. She inhaled deeply of Victoria’s perfume, her hair, her sweat. As they turned on the dance floor, their bodies rubbed. Addison grew dizzy. She opened her eyes to steady herself.

  “I see only you in the midst of the dancers. My body asks how, and your body answers. When you move to the beat, I start to shaking. When you sway to the music, I’m yours for the taking.”

  Victoria’s heated eyes held Addison like a web holding a spider’s prey. Addison felt the danger but couldn’t save herself, wasn’t even sure she wanted to.

  Was Dusty right about this woman, right about what was going on? At the thought of her friend, Addison managed to break her gaze from Victoria’s. She looked around the bar, down among the tables.

  Dusty was gone.

  Chapter Eight

  Dusty maneuvered her Harley through the light, Wednesday evening traffic with the mindlessness of familiarity. She’d ridden the route between Vibes and the house so many times she could do it asleep, after drinking way too much, with her mind still riveted on whatever woman she’d just been with.

  Tonight, it was Victoria Fontaine that occupied her, but not in the way it would have six months earlier. Dusty was changing, and she knew it. Sometimes the change felt right. Sometimes she fought it, but it was happening, all the same. Not very long ago, she would’ve been obsessed with Victoria Fontaine’s beauty, her inherent seductiveness. She would’ve taken Victoria’s blatant dismissal of her as a challenge and would’ve set her intention to bed her at all cost—and she would’ve succeeded.

  Tonight, however, all she could think of was Addison and Maggie, what they had, what they’d spent twelve years creating and building. She couldn’t escape the memory of that all-too-familiar glint in Victoria’s eyes—the glint that Dusty had flashed so many times—that said, this one is mine. Dusty thought back to all the women, the so very, very many women, who might have had or did have partners, husbands, children at home, lives that either were, or could possibly have been, shattered because of Dusty’s relentless pursuits and conquests for no other reason than to bolster and display her skills and prowess. Now it seemed it was coming back around to hit her close to home—that Law her friend Rebecca was always talking about. Granted, it wasn’t her own relationship teetering in the balance. How could it be? She’d never had one. It was her home and her chosen family that could be at risk, though. What would life be like if Maggie and Addison broke up? What would it feel like around the house without Addison there, with Maggie’s heart broken? Dusty couldn’t even imagine, and yet, she had done the same thing many times, without a thought of anyone being on the other end, without a single care for anyone’s heart.

  She’d wanted to be mad at Victoria Fontaine as she’d watched them walk back to the dance floor. She’d wanted to hate her. How could she, though? Victoria was her, and she was Victoria. It might as well have been Dusty seducing Addison.

  But what about Addison? What was she thinking? How could she risk what she had with Maggie? Dusty had always admired Addison for her commitment and loyalty. What a joke. Dusty clenched her teeth. Where had that commitment and loyalty been tonight? Then again, where had Dusty’s loyalty been? Maybe she should’ve stayed. She was Addison’s friend, after all. Maybe if she had, she could’ve stopped it all and gotten Addison to come home with her. She’d tried, but Addison was being an idiot. And Dusty was Maggie’s friend, too. How could she sit there and watch? All she’d been able to do was bolt from the bar to escape what was in front of her, to escape herself. She realized, now, that was impossible.

  Dusty knew she was changing, that she had changed quite a bit already. The fact that she could even recognize herself in Victoria, could admit that they were one and the same, showed that change. But now what? Rebecca had been going on for years about how what we see in others is really just a mirror of ourselves and that what we do will always come back to us. After tonight, Dusty got it. She could see it, but what now? What happened next?

  Even more curiously, why now? Why was all this coming back around to her home and her family at the very time she was changing her ways, at the very time she was losing interest in one-night stands and sexual conquests? Sure, she still acted the part because it was what everyone expected of her, but she hadn’t actually gone home with a stranger in months. She hadn’t wanted to. She’d made up a few accounts to share with Addison, who had begun asking more and more questions about her exploits, but…

  Was that a part of all this? Had Dusty’s experiences and stories been a lure for Addison, a temptation to look for something outside of her relationship with Maggie? No, it wasn’t Addison who was seducing Victoria. It was the other way around. Dusty heard her own words to Addison, you get back what you put out there. She winced. Damn it, Addison. We were talking about the vibes you put out about being committed. Not this. Addison had to be putting out some of those vibes of her own, though, and what if Dusty had made it worse with her stories?

  Recently, though, stories were all they were. She was beginning to
know the thrill of being with the same woman more than once, more than twice. She now knew what it felt like to want only one woman. She finally fully understood the difference between just having sex and making love. Yes, she was definitely changing, and as she stepped through the doorway of her home, she found the reason for that change waiting for her. She paused.

  In the low wattage from the lamp that dimly lit the living room and entryway, Tess stood several steps up from the bottom of the staircase, silent.

  Dusty’s gaze traveled up the smooth, olive skin of her bare legs that disappeared beneath the tails of a powder blue cotton shirt. The long sleeves, rolled to her elbows, fit loosely, and the top two buttons of the neckline remained open to reveal the soft hollow of her throat. Her long hair, usually bound tightly in some type of braid, flowed freely to frame her sculpted features and delicate shoulders.

  Arousal stirred in Dusty’s abdomen. Her breath held. “Whatcha doing, Tess?”

  “I came down for some orange juice, and I heard your motorcycle.” She hesitated, drawing her lower lip between her teeth. “I wanted to wait and go upstairs with you.”

  Surprised, Dusty studied her. It was subtle, but she’d learned that with Tess subtle was the same as a promise. This was strange, though. It hadn’t been that long since the last time. In the past few months, the frequency of their encounters had increased, but usually Tess didn’t need her again this soon. It’d only been a little over a week—not that Dusty minded. “Are you okay?” she asked. “Did something happen?”

  Tess’s expression was hard to read. “I’m fine. I just…” She averted her gaze.

  Dusty set her helmet on the antique cabinet near the stairs and climbed the steps to the one just below Tess. She stared up into her sultry, brown eyes and slid her hands beneath the thin fabric of the nightshirt. Bare flesh raised in goose bumps under her palms, a kind of sensual Braille against her fingertips.

  Tess’s eyelids lowered, and she exhaled a slow breath. She wrapped her arms around Dusty’s neck and pulled her close.

  Dusty inhaled the light scent of vanilla wafting from Tess’s warm skin. She loved the way Tess smelled, the way her soft body felt in Dusty’s arms. She loved everything about making love to this beautiful woman.

  Tess laced her fingers through Dusty’s hair then coaxed her head back. Her mouth captured Dusty’s in a kiss that demanded an answer.

  Dusty answered. She parted her lips and met Tess’s tongue with her own. She swept hers across it, toyed with it, resisted Tess’s claim for the briefest of moments. Then she accepted it fully into her mouth.

  Tess moaned softly, pressing harder against Dusty.

  The leather barrier of Dusty’s jacket denied her the pleasure of Tess’s breasts cushioned against her, prevented her from feeling the taut points that she knew Tess’s nipples had become by now. Moisture pooled between her thighs at the thought.

  Tess broke the kiss. “Come to bed with me,” she whispered, a plea in her voice as if Dusty might really say no.

  Without a word, Dusty tightened her grip around Tess’s waist and lifted her from the step. She carried her to the top of the stairs and set her back on her feet. Still a little confused by the timing, she paused. “You’re sure?”

  Tess smiled and kissed her again before she led her down the hall.

  They always used Tess’s room, maybe to put her more at ease, maybe because they felt less conspicuous if they heard Maggie or Addison moving on the stairs. Whatever the reason, after the first time, Dusty would never have had it any other way. She loved the scent of Tess’s bed, the feel of the sheets that touched Tess’s flesh every night, the fact that she was not only accepted but actually invited into her most private space.

  At the side of the unmade bed, Dusty sat on the edge and unlaced her boots.

  While she waited, Tess ran a fingertip down the nape of Dusty’s neck, then played with her hair. She leaned down and caressed her earlobe between her warm lips.

  Dusty shuddered, her movements quickening. Barefoot, she rose and pulled Tess against her.

  Tess grabbed the edges of Dusty’s jacket, yanked it open, and shoved it off her shoulders. She looped her arms around Dusty’s neck and crushed their breasts together.

  Dusty’s desire surged. She held Tess tightly and bent her head, kissing Tess’s neck. It wasn’t enough. She wanted her bare skin, the feel of her nipples with no obstruction. She shifted slightly and slipped her hands between them then worked the buttons of Tess’s shirt. She urged her back toward the mattress as she slid the garment off. Dusty gazed down at Tess’s body clad only in a pair of white satin panties. Her breathing quickened. No matter how many times she was gifted with this sight, it always affected her the same way. She flushed with need.

  Tess eased back into the soft pillows and guided Dusty over her. Her eyes smoldered. “Let me feel you,” she whispered.

  Dusty conceded eagerly. She moved up Tess’s body and brushed her lips across Tess’s. She slipped a knee between Tess’s legs, pressing into her.

  Tess groaned and tightened her thighs. She slid her hands across Dusty’s shoulders, over her breasts, down her stomach and tugged at the bottom of her T-shirt. She freed it from the waistband of her jeans and pulled it off, bringing the sports bra along with it and tossed the garments aside. She cupped Dusty’s breasts, squeezed her nipples.

  “Mmm.” Dusty arched, pushing hard into Tess’s caress. She thrust her hips, enjoying the pressure in the confines of her tight jeans. “You make me so hot.”

  “Shhh.” Tess pulled her down hard and seized her mouth in a fervid kiss.

  Dusty groaned, the full weight of her body pressing down on Tess. Their breasts, abdomens, thighs, all molded to one another with the heat of their desire. Dusty ground her pelvis into Tess’s. Her tongue probed deeply, desperately, and she flamed at the rake of Tess’s nails down her back.

  Their kisses grew hotter, more urgent, until finally they weren’t enough.

  Dusty tore herself free and moved lower. She sucked one of Tess’s stiff nipples into her mouth and stroked the other between her fingers.

  Tess gasped and raised her torso into Dusty’s grasp. She spread her legs, wrapped them around Dusty’s hips. With a slow rhythm, she began to rock.

  Dusty met each thrust with one of her own, but she knew there wasn’t enough contact to give Tess any release. She ran the tip of her tongue around the hard nipple that stood erect between her lips and teased the other with a gentle caress of her palm.

  A whimper escaped Tess’s throat, and she grabbed Dusty’s shoulders. She shoved her lower. “I want your mouth on me,” she said with a gasp. “Please put your mouth on me.”

  As much as Dusty would’ve enjoyed making Tess wait just a little longer, she lacked the strength to resist the taste of her. It was like liquor to the alcoholic, heroin to the addict. Without hesitation, she slipped down to the vee of Tess’s thighs.

  She feathered her lips across the satin panel that covered Tess’s dark curls, inhaled her scent through the shimmering fabric. She pressed her mouth firmly to Tess’s mound.

  Sucking in a long, shuddering breath, Tess lifted her hips and thrust herself against Dusty’s face.

  Dusty couldn’t wait any longer. She gripped the panties and yanked them down Tess’s quivering legs. She buried her tongue in her deep, wet center and drank in the flavor, breathed in the fragrance.

  Tess stiffened. She grabbed the back of Dusty’s head and ground against her. “Yes,” she whispered. “Make me come, Dusty. Please make me come.” It had taken a long time before Tess had been able to say what she wanted, but once she’d mastered it, there was never any doubt.

  Dusty groaned and ran her tongue up Tess’s soft folds. The silken flesh caressed her lips, and the wetness collected in her hungry mouth. Her own body ached for attention, but her focus remained on Tess’s pleasure.

  Tess’s breathing grew labored, and her fingers tightened in Dusty’s hair. She opened her thighs wider, a
s though reaching for every last sensation, every flick of Dusty’s tongue. With a sudden surge, her body shook, her legs trembled. A choked cry escaped her clenched teeth, but she managed to stifle most of it.

  Dusty held her mouth still while Tess’s body pulsed against her lips. Then, softly, more slowly, she began caressing the sensitized flesh. Sometimes she fantasized about taking Tess someplace where she could cry out as loudly as she wanted with no concern of who might hear, who might know. What Dusty wouldn’t give to hear that unrestrained release from this woman who affected her so deeply. She brought Tess down unhurriedly, with tenderness, with love.

  As Tess’s body calmed, she reached down and once again guided Dusty up over her. By now, she knew Dusty’s body and responses well enough to know that Dusty wouldn’t be able to wait long. She gazed into her eyes. Her skin still flushed from her own arousal, she unfastened Dusty’s jeans.

  Dusty wriggled out of them and kicked them to the floor, but before she could change position, Tess took a breast in each hand and raised her thigh, pushing it firmly between Dusty’s. Dusty groaned and closed her eyes as she began to thrust against Tess’s leg. Tess matched Dusty’s quickening rhythm and caressed her nipples, driving her mad with desire. Each time Dusty opened her eyes, she found Tess smiling up at her, watching her intently. With a sudden rush, Dusty’s release flooded her and she came hard and fast. She collapsed on top of Tess, gasping for breath.

  Tess took Dusty in her arms and caressed her back. “Thank you,” she whispered.

  “Oh my God.” Dusty panted. “Are you kidding?”

  Tess laughed quietly.

  She always thanked Dusty when they were finished, as if she believed it was some big sacrifice on Dusty’s part to share this intimacy with her. Dusty wanted to talk to her about it, but they didn’t really talk about those kinds of things. They didn’t really talk about anything at all during these times together. It was like they were two different people in this sanctuary from the ones who lived together in the house with other women, and when they were with everyone else, it was just group stuff that went on. Dusty shifted her weight off Tess and eased down beside her.