She was right, because one moment I was looking into the depths of her eyes and the next the air shimmered, shifted, as space itself reconfigured and we were in each other’s arms, our lips a perfect fit, open, hungry, as her tongue slipped against the roof of my mouth. My arms tightened further around her. Gwen. My Gwen.
We broke apart, breathless, shocked, wanting. I closed my eyes and leaned my forehead against hers as she plucked restlessly at the seams of my denim jacket.
“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry…” she whispered but I stopped her apologies with my lips. It wasn’t her fault, it wasn’t mine either, it was the irresistible pull, the laws of gravitational force, the immutable decree of attraction that drew us, fit us together.
Her fingers stroked lightly down, under my collar, to knead across my shoulders, and I gasped—because her hands touched me like they knew me, completely, and we had never been this close before.
“We can’t do this here,” she croaked out as she kissed the bared length of my neck and my hands filled themselves with her curves.
The small part of my brain that wasn’t wrapped up in the anticipation of her body bare and before me forced my hand into my pocket where I dug for the keys of the rental vehicle—an SUV because of the hills. I dragged them out and caught her hand, crushing them into her palm.
“Drive,” I finally got out, “take us where we can—I can’t do this anymore.”
“Fine,” she groaned as my thumb brushed against an already hardened nipple and I pressed harder, “let’s get out of here.”
The scramble back up the cliff went by in a blur—I didn’t even notice the height that had so frightened me earlier, but Gwen always
did that to me—she made me forget I was afraid.
When we got to the truck I pulled her into my arms and her hips pressed against me as the waiting heat of her mouth met mine. She reached blindly for the handle.
“Need you…so bad,” I murmured into the soft skin of her neck and I felt the shudder ride through her body as she pushed even closer to me.
“Careful, baby,” she cautioned and snapped the locks open, “I don’t…I don’t want to fuck you in the car.” She straightened and I took the opportunity to take her face in my hands, to look into the universe her eyes held. I loved her. I loved her honesty—and I’d had enough of her self-control and this good behavior.
“I. Don’t. Care.” I enunciated clearly so she wouldn’t mistake my meaning. “I want you to do what you promised all that time ago.” I smiled at her as her eyes widened, a golden glow slowly swallowed by the black of her pupils as her eyes dilated. “I want you to blow my fucking mind.” I kissed her as if that promise had already been fulfilled, as if it were her cunt on my tongue.
It took seconds to drop the seats, and I could feel every cell in my body spark to life as I finally, finally, felt the sense of physical connection as our bodies melded together.
“Ah, Jules, you know I love you, don’t you?” Gwen asked me, her fingertips warm on my face as she looked up at me, the Pacific sun smiling at us through the windshield.
I nodded wordlessly a moment, caught by the lump in my throat caused by the trust she showed me. I understood her unasked question while she carefully undid the buttons of my shirt.
“I love you, Gwen,” I told her, hoping she could read it in my eyes. “They won’t know—I swear,” I promised and my mouth closed on hers as her hands traveled the length of my spine.
My leg pressed urgently between hers and she surged under me, rolling me carefully over. “What?” I asked, dazed, confused, aroused beyond the limits of my endurance.
She kissed me expertly and her fingertips found my breast, scraping gently against my nipple, rolling it until it felt like I could come just from that alone.
“I’m keeping my promise,” she breathed in my ear, then slipped her tongue through the sensitive grooves. I sighed with the sensation, then gasped when her fingers found my needing pussy. She stroked my length.
“You okay?” she asked, her throaty voice all loving concern as her fingers slid along the sides of my hardening clit with consummate grace. She’d been right—she was already blowing my mind.
I kissed her in response and moved my hand down to her waist, snapping open the tab and easing down the zipper. I grinned to myself when I heard her breath hitch as I held her waiting warmth.
“Are you?” I asked instead.
“Uh-huh.” She smiled at me, her eyes almost glowing like embers in that setting light as her fingers quested lower, playing with me, readying me.
“Gwen…” I began softly, haltingly for the first time, uncertain since we’d come up this path. Not that I was scared, I was just…nervous. I wanted her so much, I wanted her to do to me the things we’d only discussed, discussed as friends.
And I wanted so much to please her and not disappoint her in any way, especially not this one. “Tell me what you want,” I asked as my fingers slipped along her, “tell me.”
She shuddered again as I stroked her gently and she pushed firmly against my hand.
Her voice was hoarse when she answered. “I…want to love you, Jules, completely,” she said, “just this once.” She kissed me softly, tenderly, as her fingers slid against me, making me burn with the need to hold her inside me, any way she wanted, any way she needed to be. “I want to blow your fucking mind.”
I closed my eyes as her mouth distracted me and she slid those long, strong fingers inside my awakened cunt. I felt my stomach contract with the pure sensation that licked through my body, a wicked backlash of flame, and Gwen moved in me easily, confidently, knowing me as my hips began to ride her rhythm.
“You feel…perfect, Jules,” she whispered against my lips. I
groaned her name, then bit my lip as I felt her clit throb under my fingertips, and as fully amazing as she made me feel, I was wonderstruck by how she felt, warm and hard and wet.
“Jules…please…”
Her voiced desire shot through me as her thumb expertly found my clit and I stopped hesitating—I was strong, strong like the wave that had overtaken us when I surged onto, into my Gwen and instantly fell in love with her all over again, because her cunt was so tender, so welcoming it made me want to cry.
“Oh…perfect,” she moaned. God, had anything ever sounded more sensual than that?
She rolled half on top of me and brushed her cheek against my neck.
“I love you, Jules,” she whispered breathily, “and now?” Her voice lowered as that purr shifted into a growl. “I’m going to fuck you.”
Her words were slow, deliberate, calculated to do exactly what they did—push my mind as she pushed my body over the edge she always tested. She drove both wild.
“Please fuck me,” I rasped, almost past rational thought because her cunt straining on me was incredible and her thrust in mine was reducing me to component parts.
Here was my breath, straining up through my lungs, and there, my lips, the taste of her tongue. This was the beat of my heart, chest to chest as her perfect mouth found the vein that beat in my neck to rest there as we pulled each other closer, intent.
“Baby, yeah…fuck me—just like that…” Gwen urged as that moment came closer and closer—I could feel it in the way her cunt pulsed around me, hear it in the way her breathing changed and the low, low, sounds in her throat. I couldn’t believe it was possible to be any more turned on, but I was as she pulled me deeper, pushed me further, caught me up in the haze that was her, us, the electron cloud of one.
“Come Jules, come for me,” Gwen asked and I opened my eyes to find hers flaming upon me as they caught the light of the dying sun, “come with me.”
One and I was at the edge, two and I was jumping off, three and the sky flared, a brilliant blaze of green as I came with her, for her, in her.
It was exactly as she’d said—the sky had been just right, the timing dead-on perfect, and it was us, me and Gwen, coming in that rare emerald glow as the sun disappeared an
d hissed down behind the ocean.
It was almost an afterthought on the flight back East.
“Oh hey, did you get to see that flashy thing you wanted?” Mara asked Gwen, her Gwen, as we sat two by two across the aisle from each other on the plane.
“Hey yeah,” Elaine chimed in, “that ‘this is once in a lifetime and I can’t come out to the West Coast again and not see it’ thing,” she said in a creditable imitation of Gwen’s tones. “Did you?”
Gwen leaned over a moment into the aisle, glanced at me, and smiled, that low, sexy smile. She straightened and looked out the window, out into the sun, before answering.
“Yeah…” she said finally, that smile in place as she put her arm around Mara, “yeah, it was definitely one of those ‘once in a lifetime’ experiences, right, Jules?”
I don’t know whether she winked at me or not; the shine coming in from the window made her eyes sparkle too brightly for me to see clearly and the memory of her gliding on my fingers made my breath catch, but only for a moment before I caught myself.
“Well,” I drawled as Elaine leaned into me and I drew comfort from her warmth, from her beloved presence, “when the sky’s just right and the timing’s dead on…” I let that hang there, to let her answer any way she wanted.
“Flash,” she half whispered, reverently.
Exactly.
A Model Assignment
Radclyffe
The first time I saw my new neighbor, I had two thoughts—way hot and way out of my league. The way hot was a no-brainer—sun-streaked blond hair left loose and wild, long long legs, and a round tight ass shown off to perfection in low-slung hip-hugger jeans. Her skimpy little T-shirt top stopped just below mouthwatering breasts that perched above an acre of flat, tan belly. She looked like a movie star whose name I should know, but movie stars didn’t move into my neighborhood. It had been fancy once upon a time, with big Victorian mansions set back from the street, but the rich had long ago left for safer environs and most of the stately homes had been carved into apartments. The landlords catered to students and transient types like me who wouldn’t complain too much about shoddy maintenance. I could tell right away she was too upscale for this part of town, because she rode up in front of the moving van on a shiny new Ducati. Plus, she was moving into one of the few single-occupancy houses left on the street, and a lot of the stuff the moving guys unloaded was high-end electronics and other equipment I couldn’t quite place, but I knew it cost plenty. Whatever she was into, like I said, she was way out of my league.
Of course, just because I was an out-of-work semi-pro soccer player making ends meet tending bar in the local dyke hangout and not likely to interest a woman like her, that didn’t stop me from craning my neck to get a look out the window every time I heard her pull up on her gleaming sex machine.
Knowing she probably wouldn’t give me the time of day didn’t keep me from fantasizing about climbing on the bike behind her and squeezing my tits against her back and rubbing my crotch over her ass while we screamed around some tight curve, almost coming from the thrill and the vibrations, either. It sure didn’t keep me from reaching down between my legs in the back room of the bar during slow periods and fingering my wet clit until I came with her face dancing over the inside of my eyelids.
For the first week or two that she lived in the big white Victorian with the broad front porch, I just watched her come and go, realizing before long that she had to work at home—and it had to be some interesting job, because I started to see a parade of amazing-looking women going in and out every day and night. Some arrived in cars, one or two at a time. A few—the lucky ones—arrived clinging to her on the back of her bike, looking like they’d just had the orgasm of their life when they climbed off, but she always seemed remote, untouched.
That made me want to touch her even more.
So I started finding excuses to hang out front on the street or stroll by her house—washing my ten-year-old Camaro and praying for rain so I’d have to do it again, walking to the corner store for cigarettes even though I’d quit three years ago, and generally staring at her house and behaving like an inept stalker. Who knows how long it would have taken me to get lucky, but one afternoon when I wasn’t paying attention because I’d worked until closing and spent the rest of the night with my head between another blonde’s legs trying to forget about the one I really wanted, I stepped off the curb, crossing the street from the store, right in front of her bike.
It was over in a second—the whine of the engine, the screeching brakes, the scream of metal on asphalt. The heat of her exhaust blasted my body as she swerved so close there was barely air between us. Then the big Ducati shivered and danced and went down in a shower of sparks.
I stared, shocked into paralyzed silence while inside my head I was screaming Oh Shit Oh Shit Oh Fuck.
Her soft moan in the absolute stillness that followed the crash jump-started my engine and I raced toward her. When I heard her curse, I found my voice. “Holy shit, don’t move. Jesus. Don’t move. I’ll call 911. Jesus, are you hurt?”
“Stop shouting, you’re hurting my head,” she said as she rolled onto her back and pulled her legs out from under the bike. Her right hand was bloody and the soft black surface of the road was streaked with more red under her leg.
I panicked. “Phone. Christ. Don’t have my phone. Stay there. Don’t move.”
By that time, a few people in the neighborhood who worked nights or didn’t work at all emerged from their houses in response to the sound of the accident and stood on their porches staring in our direction. No one came toward us. No one offered to help.
“I don’t need an ambulance.” She grabbed her helmet and pushed it off her head. Shimmering blond hair cascaded onto the dirty road. “I wasn’t going that fast. Road rash. That’s the worst of it.”
I squatted down by her side, partly to see her face better and partly because my legs were shaking so badly I thought I might topple over. “I’m sorry. Jesus, that was my fault. I’m sorry.”
She held out her hand, the one that wasn’t bloody. “Help me up and let’s get the bike righted. Then I need to wash out these cuts.”
“I’ll help,” I said with pathetic eagerness. “I’ve got some first aid experience.”
“That would be nice,” she said with a smile, as if I had just asked her if she’d care to join me at the opera.
I got the bike up all on my own, after struggling for a minute or two to get my legs under me and my shoulder in the right position. I wouldn’t let her help—with her hand, she wouldn’t have been much use anyway. Following her directions, I pushed it down the driveway to the side of her house. By then, she’d unzipped the buttery soft, cream-colored leather jacket she’d been wearing and shrugged out of it. Even though it was late spring and warm for that kind of apparel, she’d been lucky to be wearing it. Just thinking about what the asphalt would have done to her arms and shoulders made my stomach roll. Her jeans were torn out at the knee and along the thigh, and blood streaked the edges of the torn denim. She saw me looking.
“It’s no big deal, really. Nothing is broken.”
I swallowed. My throat felt like it was packed with pine needles. “Yeah. I can tell it’s just a little scratch.”
She smiled and dug a key out of her pocket, opened the door, and indicated I should follow. “I’ll let you take care of your guilt by helping me get cleaned up.”
It wasn’t until we were in the bathroom that I realized that getting cleaned up was going to require her being naked, because the only way to properly disinfect that long patch of torn skin on her thigh was to wash it out in the shower.
“We’re going to have to get you out of those clothes,” I said.
“Can you help me?”
“Sure.”
She held out her arms as if to embrace me. “I’m Elle.”
I knew it.
“What?” she asked when she saw me grinning.
“You’re a movie star, rig
ht?”
She laughed. “Hardly. But I do make movies.”
“Really?” I tried not to look at her breasts as I lifted her T-shirt and discovered there was nothing under it. Of course, it only takes a split second to register perfectly shaped breasts and pale pink nipples. And I registered it big-time. I felt my own nipples tighten beneath my tight black sleeveless T-shirt.
“Mmm-hmm,” she said, resting her uninjured hand on my shoulder. “Can you unzip my jeans, too?”
Sure. Sure I could. I could poke my own eyes out, too, because that was the only way I was going to be able to not look at her. Jesus, she was beautiful. Flawless skin, soft golden strands at the apex between her thighs, firm muscles and smooth curves. My hands shook as I carefully, slowly eased the jeans down over her torn skin. It wasn’t as bad as I suspected, but it was a hell of a lot more than a scratch. “I’m so fucking sorry.”
She brushed her fingers through my hair as I bowed before her. “You said that. I’ve seen you across the street. What’s your name?”
I looked up from my kneeling position. “Jess.”
“Well, Jess. You should take your clothes off, too.”
I must have looked as panicked as I had out on the road, because she laughed.
“I think you have to help me in the shower. You’re going to get soaked.”
I was afraid if I took my jeans off she’d realize I was already soaked. I was surprised there wasn’t a wet spot on the outside of my crotch. I nodded, mute.
After I adjusted the temperature and twisted the nozzle around on the shower head so there was only a gentle spray, I helped her in and she leaned against the wall with a sigh.
“What kind of movies do you make?” I asked, hoping to distract her from the pain and myself from the fact that I was slowly stroking my soapy fingers over her naked body.
Extreme Passions Page 19