by V. K. Powell
The image of Macy Sheridan begging for her touch was all the encouragement she needed. She shucked off her clothes and stood before Macy completely nude. “The only thing I want you begging for is more.”
Macy kissed her again and the room grew smaller, the air suddenly thick with the scents and vibrancy of sex. She skimmed Macy’s curved hips and gently pressed their pelvises together. She locked her knees to remain upright when Macy cupped her ass and the heat and moisture of Macy’s arousal slicked her leg.
“Sit.” Macy placed a hand on her chest and guided her back down on the sofa. “You are so damn hot, long and lanky with breasts the perfect size for sucking and an ass I can’t wait to come all over.”
Was this the same reserved woman she’d met two weeks ago? It was as if she’d flipped a switch and a she-devil emerged. “This is so unbelievable, but I really need to let you know—”
“Don’t talk. I’ll tell you exactly what I want. Can you do that for me tonight, Leigh?”
“Yes.” In her heart and mind she’d just committed to more than tonight.
Macy straddled Leigh’s lap and rubbed their breasts together. Macy’s balconette bra pushed her firm breasts up, creating an exposure Leigh wanted to lick. The fabric was sheer lace, and the frilly trim scraped her nipples like delicate teeth.
“Suck my breasts.” Leigh started to pull the fabric down. “Leave it on. I like the heat and moisture from your mouth trapped in the fabric, just like it is in my crotch right now.” Macy shifted sideways and rubbed her center up Leigh’s thigh. “Feel that?”
“Macy, you’re killing me.” Her clit twitched, and she clenched her muscles to stop the urge to hump.
“You don’t like sexy talk?”
“Oh yeah, but I won’t last long if you keep it up.”
“My mission is to make you come without touching you below the waist. Now suck.”
Leigh cupped Macy’s breasts and kneaded the soft flesh until her nipples were tight and her areoles dimpled. She lowered her mouth and breathed on the thin fabric. Two could play Macy’s little torture game.
“Please, Leigh, I need your mouth.”
She licked the protruding nipple first with very light pressure, the result just as she’d intended. Macy bucked toward her, and their centers collided with just enough force to make Leigh moan. When she clamped her mouth over Macy’s tender flesh and sucked, she got exactly what she wanted, several enthusiastic rubs that almost took her over the edge.
“Faster.” Macy grabbed Leigh’s breasts and tweaked her nipples between her thumb and forefinger until Leigh complied. “Yes, that’s it. You have a great mouth. Use it.”
“Macyyyy, please.” Leigh didn’t know if it was because she hadn’t had sex in so long or because Macy was so hot, but she was about to explode—exactly as Macy predicted.
“Are you getting all wet and horny?”
“Not getting.”
“I want to show you what I was doing the night I saw you on the dock, naked and playing with yourself. This is what you drove me to. Give me your hand.” Macy guided her fingers to the sweet spot between her legs. “Right there.” She rocked against Leigh. “I need you, right there. Did you hear me come that night?”
“Yes.” Leigh remembered the primal scream she’d heard echoing across the lake. Macy’s need had been as urgent as hers. “I wanted you so much that night. I couldn’t stop.”
“You were so beautiful standing in the moonlight, pleasuring yourself because of me.”
“Because of you and for you. I could live right here, between your hips.”
“Touch me, but don’t go inside the bikinis or stop until we both come. Promise.”
“Promise, baby.” Leigh wedged her hand between Macy’s body and hers for optimal contact. She captured Macy’s other breast in her mouth, sucking and teasing with her tongue while massaging her clit through the gauzy bikini fabric. The edge of her palm rubbed her own clit in a painful rhythm that wouldn’t last long.
Macy was exquisite, head thrown back, dark eyes open and staring into hers, lips red and constantly licked by her hungry tongue, and her mouth open and ready to scream the instant Leigh brought her to climax. The sight of her was too much. Leigh couldn’t look away as the heat between her thighs burned.
“That’s right. Faster. I see that look in your eyes now. Couldn’t see it on the dock. Too far away. Aww, yeah. You want this, don’t you?”
“I need you, Macy. Come with me. I’m so close.”
Macy rocked up and down on her knees as if Leigh was pumping inside her. “Harder, right now. I’m coming. Oh. God. Yes.”
The orgasm curled from Leigh’s center and spiraled out to the frazzled nerves in her body. As she watched Macy flush bright red and her eyes widen, she came. Macy claimed her with her mouth, and their bodies jerked in unison as spasms milked them dry.
“Thank you,” Macy whispered. “Thank you so much.”
Chapter Thirteen
Macy woke eyeball to nipple with a rosy-tipped breast and smiled remembering last night’s marathon sex session. Her arms and legs were entwined with Leigh’s long ones in a postcoital clutch, and her hair fanned across Leigh’s stomach like a protective shroud. The air was pungent with their mingled scents, and her mouth tasted like Leigh. She licked her lips and a shiver of arousal rose from the base of her clit. Every erogenous zone on her body throbbed from overuse, but she was still unsatisfied.
She tried to keep her breathing even as she heated up again. Last night she’d done two things she hadn’t imagined possible—told another person about Jesse and had sex with a woman she hardly knew. And not just everyday run-of-the-mill sex, but hot, raw, I-gotta-be-fucked-now sex. She’d never been sexually assertive with a lover until last night, and Leigh complied exquisitely.
When Leigh tried to be gallant and take her to bed, she’d asked not to be treated like a girlfriend. What did she want to be treated like, a slut? Quite honestly, yes. The answer didn’t suit her carefully polished self-image, but she’d wanted nothing to do with her former life. With the truth about Jesse finally released, she needed to feel totally different and free. And she’d succeeded.
She looked at Leigh’s sleeping face sprinkled with freckles, a glimpse of white teeth through recently sucked lips, and copper lashes resting on her cheeks. This woman fulfilled every sexual request she had without question and made her feel like the most desirable and important person in the world. Leigh had worshipped and feasted on her body until she begged for mercy. And still she hungered. Now what?
Was her desire to escape into sex and emotionally uncharted territory only temporary or the beginning of something more? Her track record with women sucked. She couldn’t ask Leigh to sign on for that. But she was making a huge assumption Leigh would even be interested in more than sex. She’d told herself she could handle a purely physical encounter. Now was the time to prove it. While she agreed with the premise, the possibility didn’t settle well in her gut.
“Leigh, you awake?”
“Could be. What did you have in mind?”
“Sorry, but I need to get to work. Want some coffee before you leave?” She couldn’t look at Leigh as she retrieved her wrinkled shirt from the floor and pulled it on.
Leigh reached for her but she moved out of range. “What, no morning-after nooky, snuggle, kiss, nothing? I must’ve been way off my game last night.” Her pouty lips spread into the most kissable smile Macy had ever seen.
“You were fantastic, but real life calls. Coffee or no?” The playfulness drained from Leigh’s face, and she realized she’d probably been too matter-of-fact. “Sorry, I didn’t mean—”
“You don’t have to explain. I get the message.” Leigh pulled on her jeans, slung her shirt and briefs over her shoulder, and a few steps later closed the door softly behind her.
Macy slumped onto the sofa. “Shit. Shit. Shit.” No wonder she couldn’t hold on to a relationship. She had no idea what to do in those awkward, intimate mome
nts. Actors made it look easy in the sappy romances she liked, but the right words weren’t scripted and never came naturally to her. When some of the sting wore off, Leigh would realize keeping things real was the best way. Sex was sex, and that was all they were ever going to have.
After a quick shower, Macy dressed in only her soft, worn lab coat and headed to the studio. She was too sensitive for clothing that rubbed her body in spots still aching for Leigh’s touch. With the memories of last night too fresh in her mind, she needed to busy herself with the clay reconstruction of the skull. Working would redirect some of her frenetic energy into other parts of her body besides her breasts and genitalia.
She faxed a copy of the completed facial drawing to Sergeant Rickard and put it aside. He could start on comparisons with missing persons while she finished the model. She gathered her materials and placed them on the table beside the skull: sculpture tools, spatula, pointed stick, millimeter gauge, plastic roller, X-acto knife, oil-based clay, cotton balls, sandpaper, and flexible mesh.
The next step of the process involved setting the prosthetic eye, or the plastic eye cap she preferred. When she considered eye color for this model, she didn’t see the cool blue of Jesse’s crystal orbs as usual but the mesmerizing green of Leigh’s staring at her with so much hunger her hand trembled. Concentrate. As if. Her censure couldn’t erase what had been indelibly tattooed on her body and branded in her mind.
She chose a basic brown color and positioned the eye in the center of the orbit, protruding slightly if viewed from the side, and fixed it in place with a lump of modeling clay. She rolled some blocks of clay into uniform thickness, cut several strips, and laid them neatly within reach. The connection of the tissue-depth markers that protruded from the skull would provide the general shape of the face. Starting at the number-one marker high on the forehead and proceeding down between the eyes, she set the first strip in place, followed by the second and third over the eye orbits, and the fourth and fifth down the side of the eyes. Time suspended as she positioned the disconnected layers of clay around the skull.
As she slowly worked the strips into the proper depth to coincide with the markers around the mandible, she remembered Leigh’s sensitivity along her sexy jawline. A simple lick or nibble made her as pliable as this modeling clay. She squirmed in her chair as the memory trickled down her body. Damn it. Stay focused. Next, she covered the top of the head with long strips of clay to keep the shape of the forehead and cranium. When she finished rolling the clay bands to the appropriate depth, they resembled the wire frame of a catcher’s mask.
She stood back and examined her progress, not bad for a day’s work. The application of clay, rolling to depth, and checking for consistency was time consuming. She’d worked through breakfast and lunch and suddenly realized she was hungry, in more ways than one. The detailed task hadn’t completely vanquished the memory of Leigh or their night together. When she’d thought about her, passion jolted through her as stimulating and frightening as a shot of pure adrenaline.
But something else had happened to her yesterday. When she retold Jesse’s story, she’d released the cage around her creativity. Ideas for new paintings floated to the surface and she was anxious to commit them to canvas, but images of Leigh bled over. She pulled a blank canvas from the stack under the table and placed it on an easel near the window. Dusting the surface with her hand, she enjoyed the dimpled texture of the fabric and her energy surged again. As soon as she finished her final reconstruction, she’d begin her new life as a painter.
She was about to prep the canvas by applying an ochre ground color when she heard the distinctive crunch of a vehicle pulling into the drive. Her pulse quickened. Leigh. They hadn’t spoken since she practically pushed her out this morning. She was anxious to explain her behavior, if she could figure out how. As she took off her lab coat, she realized she still hadn’t dressed for the day. Rushing to her room, she pulled on jeans and a shirt with no underwear and reached the door just as Leigh knocked.
“I’m glad you came—” The woman standing on her threshold was definitely not Leigh. She was Leigh’s height with blond hair that cascaded in waves to the top of her ample breasts and eyes the color of milk chocolate. Her lips blossomed with a mixture of amber and caramel coloring. Macy followed her curves, highlighted by snug skinny jeans and a red body-hugging T-shirt that made her look like a flame. Macy tugged on her shirt, very happy she’d chosen a baggy one that covered the top of her thighs. When she realized she’d been blatantly staring for several seconds, she spoke. “Can I help you?”
“Good afternoon. I’m looking for Leigh Monroe. Is she here?” The woman tilted her head to glance around her into the cottage.
“No, she isn’t. May I ask who you are?”
The woman extended her hand. “Sorry, I’m Gayle.”
Gayle, the ex. A knot the size of Texas settled in Macy’s stomach. The only thing she’d heard about Gayle was her name—not that she was a drop-dead gorgeous blonde who exuded sexuality with every breath. An image of Leigh and Gayle kissing flashed through her mind, and she shook her head to dislodge it.
“And you are?” Gayle asked.
“Macy. Sheridan. Leigh’s…landlord.” She wanted to sound more substantial in Leigh’s life, to stake a claim however tenuous, but she had no right. One evening of spontaneous sex didn’t qualify her as a lover, and she’d rarely treated her like a friend.
“I’m sorry to drop in like this, but I’ve just flown in from Toronto and really need to see her. It’s important.”
“Did you try her cell phone? She does have one, you know.” She sounded snarky, like a jealous girlfriend, but she wanted to get rid of this woman, preferably before Leigh returned.
“I didn’t want to leave a message. This is too important.”
“So you’ve said.” Again with the attitude.
“Do you mind if I wait? Does Leigh stay here, with you?” She looked past her again as if trying to suss out the living arrangements.
“She’s renting the apartment over the dock.” She pointed toward the lake and could’ve sworn Gayle sighed with relief. The least she could do was make the woman comfortable, because she obviously wasn’t leaving. “You can wait if you want, but I have no idea when she’s getting back.” Perfect. Now she knows you have no significant relationship. “Would you like something to drink—soda, wine, water?”
“I’d love a glass of white wine. Something tells me I’m going to need it.” Gayle’s smile dazzled with its sincerity and a touch of sadness. If she hadn’t been here, looking so damn hot and wanting to talk with Leigh, Macy might’ve liked her, just a little.
“Why don’t we sit on the porch? There’s a beautiful view of the lake. I’ll get the wine.” While she poured, she considered changing clothes, but no matter what she chose she wouldn’t come close to the tantalizing ex-girlfriend’s style. She had no idea how to compete with someone like Gayle. She’d had sex with Leigh, not bonded for life or discussed their future. If this was the kind of woman Leigh preferred, she was doomed.
As she handed Gayle a glass, she wondered what had brought her from Canada after a nine-month separation. The scenarios bouncing around in her head could cause serious damage if she dwelled on them. She could simply ask, but she should really let them work it out. Damn the coulds and shoulds. “Why are you here?”
Gayle glanced at the lake, took another sip of wine, and finally focused those deep-brown eyes on her. “Are you and Leigh having sex?”
They stared at each other like competitors vying for psychological advantage, but the stakes were much higher. Both were willing to ask the difficult questions. The real issue was, were they willing to answer them?
*
Leigh walked out of the cottage that morning without her shirt on purpose, hoping the cool morning air would slap some sense into her, remind her of the reality of her and Macy’s situation. Macy had told her about Jesse, a revelation that couldn’t have been easy. The anguish was e
tched across her features as clearly as if on a movie screen. Her heart ached for Macy as she cried and told the story that had emotionally bound her for years.
As some of the pain subsided, she’d seen the potential in Macy, a free woman capable of fully living again. But she couldn’t have imagined the sexual scene that played out in Macy’s living room. Their interaction had been more assertive, more playful, and much sexier than anyone she’d been with. She’d lost count of how many times they pleasured each other with hands, fingers, mouths, toys, and nothing except full-body contact. She’d imagined Macy would be different as she released her hold on the past, but this went beyond transformation.
She’d loved everything about their time together, until this morning when Macy sent her away like a call girl. The sting of dismissal cut much deeper than the soreness from their lovemaking. Perhaps it was for the best. When she told Macy about her involvement in Jesse’s case, she’d probably reject her for good. The right thing to do was tell her, now. But she needed distance from what they’d shared last night. Their connection had been too perfect and the aftermath too unexpected for her to face so soon.
She relived their night together as she showered, dressed, and drove to the station. With each memory, she became more attached to the woman and their potential, though she had no idea what came next. She pushed the distracting thoughts aside and headed to Captain Howard’s office to check in.
When she tapped on the door, the voice from the other side sounded tired and a little annoyed. “Yes, come in.”
“Bad time?”
“Not for you. As a matter of fact, I needed to see you. Have a seat. Coffee?”
She shook her head. “Here for my weekly check-in, and before you ask, I don’t have anything new to add to my suspension case.”
Captain Howard smiled at her, but something else was obviously on her mind. “I’m not surprised, but any progress on the other matter?”