by Sandy Lowe
Lauren’s words had lost their measured quality, that faint cadence of storytelling. Her speech turned raspy and uneven. With Lauren’s eyes ferocious, sweat coating her brow, a hard line to her jaw, she looked as if she could devour Emma alive. Lauren’s whole body taut with passion was the sexiest thing Emma had ever seen. She was losing it, but Emma was already so far past lost. She needed Lauren to be right there with her so they could find each other.
“Please.” Emma tilted her hips up into Lauren’s palm. “I’m so close. I might actually fucking die if you stop.”
Lauren groaned. “I’m going to make you come. It’s a point of pride. A statement. I know that forcing you to come like this when you don’t want to, when you shouldn’t like it, will mean stripping your ego. Too bad for you that you’re a terrible actress.”
Lauren pulled her fingers all the way out of her, and Emma glanced down. Lauren’s entire hand was soaked and slippery. Emma was so wet she knew it had to be all over her thighs. She didn’t care. All she cared about was coming. That’s what Lauren had reduced her to. A base version of herself, an animal with no control over her own instincts. No control over all the things Lauren was forcing her to feel, to want, to crave. “Please.”
“Please what?” Lauren rasped.
No longer able to say no, to deny she needed Lauren back inside her, Emma gave in and begged just as passionately as she’d struggled. “Please. I need to be fucked. I have to come. I can’t wait.”
“Look how wild you are,” Lauren whispered in her ear, her fingers hovering at Emma’s entrance. “You want this bad, don’t you? You can’t help it.”
“Please,” Emma begged again, spreading her legs wide and tilting her hips up shamelessly. “Please.”
Lauren clamped one hand around the back of Emma’s neck, holding her in place with a grip almost strong enough to bruise. With the other she thrust inside Emma. No finesse this time, just long hard thrusts, over and over and over again. Hard, then harder, then just shy of ruthless.
Emma fell into sensation as if nothing else existed. She made dirty, gritty sounds she’d have been embarrassed about if any part of her brain had still been working and let her head tip back in Lauren’s hold. Fuck yes. This. Only this. Always this.
“You’re going to come,” Lauren said. So sure. So fucking certain. “I’m going to make you come.”
When the palm of Lauren’s hand hit her clit, Emma exploded. Light ignited behind her eyes, and she came on a scream. Everything inside her trembled and spun. Twisting and turning, knotting and unraveling, seizing and releasing, until her breath came in parched wheezes and her bones were jelly.
She kept her eyes open, kept her gaze on Lauren as Lauren penetrated her, Lauren’s look as deep as her buried fingers. She didn’t want to be anything, or anywhere, but exactly where she was—with Lauren—surrendering to her with her eyes wide open.
Lauren wrapped her arms around her, hooking Emma’s legs around her waist and Emma clung to her. Wrapped around Lauren, dizzy from an orgasm so intense her pussy wouldn’t stop clenching, the moment was unspeakably intimate. Tears flooded her eyes and she buried her face in Lauren’s neck, fighting back a sob. Lauren stroked her hair and started to pull out, and Emma grabbed her wrist.
“No. Stay. Can you stay inside for a little while? I can’t…” She couldn’t what? Bear to be empty after having been so completely filled? Bear not to be as close as possible to Lauren right now? She craved physical closeness, but what she really needed after an orgasm like that was emotional closeness.
She buried her face in Lauren’s neck and held on as tightly as she could.
Goddamn. How had she ever lived without this? Without exactly this? She needed it. The absolute certainty hit her like a sledgehammer. Things that had always been asymmetrical suddenly clicked into place. This was her. Needy. Helpless. Begging to stop. Begging for more. Begging for things she’d never even known she could beg for.
For Lauren, this was about surrender that went so deep it was bottomless. Lauren wanted her to try to resist. Not just physically, not just as she lay under her struggling like a fish on a line. Lauren didn’t want to force her. She wanted to force her to like it, force her to come, force her to experience the overwhelming all-consuming destroying pleasure of being entirely out of control. Boy, had she succeeded. Gold star and first place medal.
Everything came down to control. Having it. Clinging to it. Losing it. Wanting it. Then goddamn reveling in the moment when you have no say at all. Not in whether or not you’re fucked. Not in the hand around your throat or the things whispered in your ear. Not even in the words you say or the pleasure you feel. Having no control at all made her hotter than she’d ever imagined possible.
She’d never been comfortable with the way her arousal had overwhelmed her senses, her common sense, her ability for reason. It made her feel crazy, and crazy scared her. But with Lauren she didn’t need reason. Her inability to contain her own passion was exactly what Lauren craved. Lauren had forced her to let go, to give up, to be overtaken by the rush of her own need.
Emma’s need had always made her vulnerable, and that had never felt safe. With Lauren it wasn’t just okay, she wasn’t simply accepted for exactly who she was. Who she was, and what she needed, was exactly what Lauren needed too. It was Lauren’s fantasy they were wrapped in. Lauren had asked for this and it turned out to be exactly what Emma needed. Finally.
Somehow in the last twenty minutes, without her ever having decided it, she’d fallen in love. Falling was a stupid word for it. It wasn’t a graceful head over heels, romantic comedy come to life, emotion.
Love was cocky and overconfident, a skinny actor preening in a superhero suit. Love was narcissistic in the way it invaded her awareness and forced her to care so deeply. Love was arrogant to think it could somehow be the answer to all her problems. Love had her bound and helpless, more of a hostage and ten times as frightening as when Lauren had fucked her.
Emma closed her eyes, breathed in the subtle scent of Lauren, all tangerines and sex, and let her herself relax. Love was a pain in her ass, but it was here, and now she had to deal with it.
Chapter Fifteen
“Did you know that orgasms are good for cognitive health?” Lauren stroked the long delicate line of Emma’s spine as she gently pulled out of her.
Emma snuggled close. “That can’t possibly be true. My brain’s fried worse than a funnel cake at the fair.”
Lauren tipped Emma’s face to hers and kissed her forehead. “Funny, I was just thinking that you pull all the ragged edges of my mind back into place.”
As soon as the words were out, Lauren wanted to snatch them out of the air and shove them back inside her mouth. Emma needed time. She’d just gotten to the point of trusting Lauren enough to orgasm in front of her, and Lauren had no business saying something like that, especially when she had no idea what the hell she was going to do about any of it. That Emma had surrendered, cocooned inside a fantasy that would give any rational person pause, was nothing short of a miracle. The last thing either of them needed was her making grand declarations in the heat of the moment that she couldn’t deliver on later.
To cover the sheer awkwardness of her way-too-much honesty, Lauren changed the subject. “Do you have a kitchen here?”
Emma gestured vaguely behind her, and Lauren scooted around the circulation desk and through a door marked for the staff. She was back with a chipped blue Star Wars mug full of tap water as fast as possible. “Drink this. It’s important you stay hydrated.”
Emma blinked at her with eyes just a bit blurry. She took the mug and a couple of careful sips. “You made me scream.”
“I heard.” Lauren smiled. The sound of Emma coming for her was music she wouldn’t soon forget. She steadied the mug as Emma took another sip. “You were amazing. Absolutely perfect. How’re you feeling? You’re going to be sore tomorrow. That’s normal. If it’s uncomfortable try some Motrin. But any stinging or sharp pain and
you tell me immediately, okay?”
The soft dreaminess of Emma’s face morphed slowly into horror. “If I have to go to the hospital with a broken vagina, I’ll never forgive you. Never.”
Lauren grinned. “Not loving small town life now, are you? Don’t worry, with only my fingers inside you it’s very unlikely, but everyone is different, so you’ll tell me, okay? Worst-case scenario, I’ll drive you to Albany so we don’t run into anyone you know while they patch up your broken vagina.”
Emma searched Lauren’s face for further confirmation before nodding seriously. “Have you taken someone to the hospital before?”
She tried not to interpret the question as, “Have you hurt anyone before?” but it was difficult. “Yes. But a friend, not a lover. The person she was with fucked her with a wine bottle a little too vigorously, and she had some internal bruising. Glass isn’t a great choice at the best of times, and fucking someone with something that has no give is an amateur move.”
“And you’re not an amateur.”
“No, I’m not.” Lauren held her breath.
“Lucky for me then.”
Lucky. She let her breath out slowly. She took the empty mug from Emma and put it on a nearby stack of books. “How do you feel otherwise?”
Emma pulled her back in for more cuddles. “Kind of floaty. It’s nice.”
Lauren had to bite the inside of her cheek to stop herself from moaning out loud. Emma didn’t know, but no other answer could’ve been as perfect. Not every submissive experienced the contented floating feeling after an intense scene, but it was common enough to be a pattern. That Emma did calmed Lauren more than any words of reassurance could’ve. Emma had enjoyed what they did. Not just because it was sex, but because she had gotten off on, gotten into, the surrender. Emma liked it. It wasn’t some monumental favor she’d given Lauren out of the kindness of her heart. Thank God.
She hadn’t really let herself believe they could maybe make this work, that her feelings for Emma weren’t going to end in a series of frustrating encounters that ultimately satisfied neither of them, until Emma had begged her to fuck her and had come in screaming gasps around her fingers. Sex wasn’t everything. Not even the most important thing. But for her, someone with particular tastes who needed a particular kind of partner to satisfy them, sex wasn’t inconsequential either. She couldn’t brush it aside and pretend it wasn’t important. She hadn’t realized how heavy the weight of her fears had been until Emma’s comment lifted them completely, and she was free.
“That’s good to hear.” Lauren rubbed slow circles along Emma’s spine. “You relax for a few more minutes.”
After a moment, Emma said, far too quietly, “That was a very nice thing to say before.”
Lauren sighed. Emma hadn’t forgotten. Why did she have to go spouting off about her feelings and make everything weird? For lack of any better plan, she started babbling to cover the silence. Having experienced the contentment fantastic sex could give you, Emma would understand that sometimes sex made you say things better kept to yourself.
“I’d forgotten how much I like it. It’s easy to get jaded. Even before what happened with Caroline, going to a bar every weekend hoping to meet someone who actually gives a damn…it can drain you. But sex, it calms me. It makes the world right again. It’s the one place I always feel totally myself. I’d forgotten that.”
Where just a moment before Emma had been relaxed and pliant against her, now she tensed, planting a smile on her face that looked as fake as a circus clown’s.
“I’m glad you have something that makes you feel that way. That must be very nice.” She pushed away from Lauren and hopped off the desk, swaying for just a second before walking around it to find her clothes.
Lauren stared. What had happened? Had she said something wrong? Surely saying she liked sex after making a woman come wasn’t completely unwarranted? She knew what to do after an intense scene to care for the person who had gifted her their vulnerability and trusted her to keep them safe. Didn’t Emma realize that she was just as vulnerable? Just as stripped, even if she was standing there fully dressed? That her heart was on the line?
Emma couldn’t back off now, not after what they’d just experienced together. Emma leaving her arms, putting her clothes back on, felt like abandonment—rational or not. Lauren wanted nothing more than to chase after her and beg her to stay, naked and kind of floaty against her, forever.
Just stay and be here, all hers, for always.
Lauren didn’t move. “Are you okay?”
Emma wobbled on one foot as she stuck the other through the waistband of her skirt. “Sure, why wouldn’t I be?”
The question mark at the end of that sentence felt less like a desire to know an answer and more like a bomb about to detonate. “You seem annoyed.”
Emma zipped up the back of her skirt and shoved her hair out of her eyes. She held Emma’s gaze, barely glancing at all the lovely girl parts on display. Something more important than sex was happening.
“Why would I be annoyed when you just qualified a really beautiful statement about me with the knowledge that you feel that way every time because really, any willing woman who gives a damn will do.”
Emma had tugged on her shirt and was doing up the buttons by the time Lauren made it around the circulation desk. “What are you talking about? I didn’t say that.”
“Sex is the one time you always feel totally yourself? Sex calms you? Puts all the pieces of your mind back together? You couldn’t possibly have had all those experiences with me when we’ve had less sex than you could fit on the back of a postcard.”
That last statement stumped Lauren. “Can you fit sex on the back of a postcard?”
Emma let out a sound that was one octave higher than nails on a chalkboard. “That’s not the point.”
She shoved a hand through her hair so she didn’t use it to haul Emma into her arms and show her exactly where they could fit sex. This wasn’t fair. She’d just had the best experience of her entire life. The kind of sex that makes you believe there must be a God because simple evolution couldn’t possibly have created someone so absolutely, perfectly, earth-shatteringly sexy, and someone so maddeningly, frustratingly, annoyingly obstinate all in the same package. She needed to come so badly she was dizzy with it. She wasn’t sure she could get her heart to stop pounding in her ears long enough to hear Emma, let alone have a coherent conversation about some point that made absolutely no sense. It was more than possible the need clawing at her insides was compromising her judgment, but she didn’t care. Right this second, with Emma half dressed in front of her, her feet bare and her hair wild, Lauren wanted to howl at the fucking moon.
Why were they having this stupid argument about a history that didn’t matter, right after Emma had let down her walls enough to make Lauren say something so personal in the first place? She suspected Emma was looking for a way to put her walls back up, and that just pissed her off. They could go forward as slowly as Emma needed, but hell if she’d let Emma drag them backward.
“You’re jealous then? I’ve had some nice sex with other women, so you’re jealous.” Lauren crossed her arms and raised her eyebrows. Really?
Emma stopped buttoning her buttons as if the sheer preposterousness of the accusation froze her. “Of course not. That’s ridiculous.”
“I couldn’t agree more.” She invaded Emma’s personal space and began to undo the buttons Emma had abandoned. She didn’t touch Emma. She specifically and deliberately did not touch her skin. She didn’t quite trust herself.
“What are you…that’s not…Lauren, I didn’t…”
Emma couldn’t seem to finish a sentence, so Lauren just kept going, tugging Emma’s shirt off and letting it fall to the floor. Emma’s bra came next, whipped from her shoulders before she had a chance to protest.
“Let’s set the record straight,” Lauren said with a casualness she didn’t feel. “I like sex. I like it so much that I seek it out, even when I’m
single. Sex makes me feel good about myself. It releases tension. I can express myself in a way that I can’t in any other context—”
“By dominating people,” Emma cut in, interrupting her.
She let that slide and continued as if Emma hadn’t spoken. “But sex with you…” She stopped. She’d been all prepared to give a speech, one that might possibly also be considered a lecture, fueled by her righteous indignation at the unfairness of Emma’s annoyance. But sex with Emma was…beyond. She didn’t know what to make of it herself, let alone explain it to someone else.
“Sex with me, what?” Emma asked.
Lauren hesitated.
Emma took a breath and unzipped the back of her skirt. As it fell to a puddle at her feet, she asked again, “Sex with me, what?”
There Emma went, being brave and leaving her breathless.
“It feels like more.” Lauren took Emma’s hand to help her step out of the circle of her clothes. Her fingers tingled with the spark of electricity that ignited at the simplest of touches. “You can’t tell me that what we just did wasn’t more. It doesn’t just feel good. It’s emotional. It fills me up in a place I didn’t even know was lacking until I met you.” Don’t you see how vulnerable you make me, too?
Emma tugged at her bottom lip with her teeth. Lauren closed her eyes. For the first time, she understood Emma’s desire to hide, to choose not to see, to shut everything out. It was way too soon for revelations like this, and even if miracles existed and Emma was falling for her too, the last thing she needed was Lauren putting more pressure on sex.
“Emotional, like what emotions exactly?” Caution seeped out of Emma’s words and ran toward Lauren like water from a tipped glass.
I think I might love you.
It was the think and the might in that sentence that stopped Lauren from saying the words out loud. Grand passionate declarations didn’t include those words. Loving someone shouldn’t be laden with maybes. Love was supposed to overcome all obstacles. Love was the emotion to end all emotions. The only thing that mattered. The secret password to a happy life. Love was…everything.