The Coyote's Comfort

by Holley Trent

  Diana’s breathing had slowed again.

  “Diana.”

  “I’ll brush my teeth tomorrow,” Diana whined.

  “At least get under the covers.”

  “Okay.” She didn’t move.

  “I’m going to put you under the covers.”

  “I hooked my bra wrong after shifting back,” Diana murmured. “Fucking underwire’s digging into my ribs.”

  “Sorry.” Lanie crawled onto the bed and got her hands beneath Diana’s armpits. She somehow managed to drag her up to her pillow.

  “Take it off.”

  “Can’t do that without taking off your shirt, sweetheart.”

  Diana pouted in her semi-conscious state and flopped her hands onto her torso, scratching at her shirt buttons. “Help me.”

  “What do you want me to do?”

  “Undo them.” Diana let out a short, exhausted breath. “The buttons.”

  “All right.” Lanie worked the buttons down from top to bottom, pausing each time Diana’s hand glided onto her wrist. She was patting Lanie’s hand—feeling her in pseudo-sleep, not pushing her away.

  “You’re making this harder for me,” Lanie whispered as she pulled her hand out from beneath Diana’s.

  “Hmm?”

  “Nothing. Sleep.”

  “Okay.”

  Lanie got Diana’s shirt open enough to reach beneath and access the catch at the back. She freed it and somehow managed to get Diana neatly under the covers.

  “Are you spending the night?” Diana’s eyes were still shut. Lanie couldn’t be entirely sure she wasn’t talking in her sleep, but she figured she should answer anyway.

  “If you want me to, sweetheart.”

  “Okay.” Diana hooked her arm around Lanie’s waist and pulled her down beside her. She smacked her lips a few times. Her eyelids fluttered. And then she snored softly, succumbing to the sleep of the weary.

  Lanie sighed and closed her eyes. “Just like old times.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  Stirring awake, Diana opened her eyes and blinked several times to clear them. Something wasn’t quite right.

  No. She wasn’t quite right.

  Her shirt was all tangled up, and she was awkwardly gripping something—no, someone.

  Lanie was asleep at Diana’s left with her forearm draped over her eyes. Stiff as a board. On her back. Fully dressed.

  “Oh,” Diana whispered. She vaguely remembered creeping home after getting Barbie sorted and being placed into bed. Her bra had been bothering her.

  Still was, actually.

  Rubbing her eyes, she sat up and looked down. She shouldered off her shirt to rid herself of the dangling bra. She had one arm back inside the shirt, preparing to put it on again when she wondered why she should waste the effort.

  The sun was barely up. She could go back to sleep and sleep more comfortably.

  She tossed the shirt onto the floor and settled back beneath the covers.

  Nope. Still not comfortable.

  Lanie was pinning the covers down on her side. She needed to be beneath them for Diana to be able to spread out, so Diana did a typical-Diana thing and poked her.

  Lanie’s eyelids snapped up. Her eyes were bloodshot and unfocused.

  “Move,” Diana said, tugging at the covers.

  Lanie sat up and turned her legs toward the bed’s edge. “I was there because you put me there. I’ll sleep on the sofa.”

  “No!” Diana was behind her before she could stand, arms around Lanie’s neck, thighs squeezing her hips, bare breasts pressed against her back.

  Lanie was so warm and smelled so familiar. She didn’t want to let go. Since she was there, Diana figured she might as well hold on. “Stay here,” Diana pleaded. “Just…give me my covers. And take off your shoes, maybe.”

  Lanie chuckled and after a moment, took off her boots.

  Diana gave her some room to move. She pulled back the covers and patted the bed beside her. “Just like old times, right?”

  Lanie scoffed as she took off her belt. “I wore less clothing in old times.”

  It dawned on Diana that Lanie was about to get into the bed in her turtleneck and jeans. She actually had one knee on the mattress when Diana reached for her again, tugging at the hem of her shirt. “You don’t need that.”

  “Yeah, I do.”

  “Is it too cold in here for you? I’m always hot. You know that. I keep the thermostat set at—”

  “It’s not that.” Lanie reclaimed her former place. She laced her fingers behind her head and stared at the ceiling.

  “Then what?”

  “I don’t want to give you any ideas.”

  “And what ideas would those be? That if you take your clothes off, I’m going to fuck you?”

  That was actually true, and they likely both knew that, but Diana didn’t like that Lanie made that sound like such a bad thing.

  “We fuck, and then what?” Lanie asked.

  “I don’t know what you’re getting at.”

  “Yes you do. You’re smarter than that.”

  Smarter?

  Diana huffed and rolled her eyes. She didn’t know about that, but she knew that if Lanie was going to play the role of pursuer, she shouldn’t stop halfway to the finish line. She needed to go all the way.

  “Stop making this complicated,” Diana said. “Of course I want you to touch me. And of course I want to see you—all of you. That has never changed. Why can’t you give me that?”

  “Maybe I think the pushing away and pulling back gets tiresome. Do you only want me when I’m horizontal?”

  “You know that’s not true.” Diana crawled over her and straddled her waist, pinning her against the bed. She pressed her hands against the mattress beside Lanie’s shoulders and leaned down to whisper, “I want you when you’re upright, too. I just know I shouldn’t have you.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I—” Diana pressed her lips closed, pinching off the sentiment. It didn’t matter—at least, not right then. She wanted to do something that would make her feel good. She deserved it. She deserved some time with Lanie, even if it were fleeting. Even if she had to drive her away to make her understand how bad for her Diana really was.

  Instead of making Lanie go, Diana lowered herself more and found her soft, satiny lips. They parted for her as she felt the rims with the edges of her own. And then her teeth were drawing up the luscious bottom lip and gently kneading as Lanie’s hands roved over her back.

  Yes. Touch me.

  Her hips undulated from the memory of past touches—of slick heat and desperate grinding. Of fingers notched deep into her flesh and holding Diana back until she relented. Until she breathlessly said, “Please.”

  Gods, she’d missed her. She’d missed Lanie being in her space, missed her understanding how her fucked-up head worked. Missed her knowing what was missing without Diana needing to ask. Lanie always knew. She always fixed things.

  Diana thrust her tongue into Lanie’s mouth, needing to taste her, and needing to remind herself that the sense memories she had were true and that Lanie still felt the same way. As always, the kiss quickly went from sweet to carnal as their tongues sparred, each trying to dominate, but they both knew damn well who sat on the throne for that role.

  Diana scraped at Lanie’s hands, trying to get her to explore deeper—to touch her in the places that burned. Diana wanted to get her to stop teasing her, and Lanie must have known that because she suddenly laughed. She actually broke the kiss to laugh at Diana and grab her wrists. She pinned them in front of Diana’s belly, forcing her to sit up.

  “Stop laughing at me.”

  “Stop rushing me.”

  “I wasn’t rushing.”

  “Yes,” Lanie whispered. “You were.”

  She rolled Diana onto her back and pressed her hands over her head, staring down at her while wearing a mocking grin. “You know I don’t like that, Diana. I do things at my own speed.”

  “Ju
st do something,” Diana whined. Anything. She’d take anything from Lanie, as long as it was pleasure and not more longing. She was sick of tragedy.

  “Keep your hands there,” Lanie whispered. “Understand?”

  Swallowing thickly, Diana nodded.

  She squirmed nervously beneath Lanie’s knowing stare, and Lanie knew better than to take her hands away just yet. She knew Diana would reach for her again, so she waited.

  Diana closed her eyes and willed the overeager wild part of her to settle. Take it easy or we won’t get this. I deserve this. I want this.

  Finally, Lanie’s grip abated from Diana’s wrists and her weight shifted backward. Diana didn’t open her eyes. She wanted the surprise. History had taught her that she would adore anything Lanie did, except leaving.

  She didn’t want her to leave. She never wanted her to leave.

  Lanie’s lips pressed against Diana’s chin, so Diana lifted it, but Lanie didn’t linger. Her lips skimmed down the column of Diana’s neck, gently enticing and awakening the sensitive flesh—reminding it of who’d owned it and who knew it so well.

  Collarbones were next. Soft kisses trailed along the ridges, tickling just enough to make Diana gasp. Just enough to make her spine arch and make her wantonly thrust her breasts upward.

  Lanie’s renewed chuckles were soft as she kept working down, skipping Diana’s breasts altogether and lingering instead at her navel. Her fingers curved around Diana’s waist as hot kisses trailed around the indentation, becoming wetter the lower she went.

  Still, Diana didn’t open her eyes. She concentrated on keeping herself still and on curling her toes into the mattress as Lanie notched her fingers into the sides of Diana’s panties.

  Yes! Yes!

  Lanie could take them off. She could be rid of them and keep those hot, wet kisses moving lower. She could tuck her fingers into more intimate places in that masterful way she had, and Diana would stay perfectly still for her.

  Her panties were suddenly down her thighs with one quick tug. Diana swallowed her gasp.

  The routine should have been familiar to her: Lanie’s careful inspection of her body, her excruciatingly long stares and slow movements.

  Begging wasn’t going to do her any good. Diana knew that already, so she waited, notching her teeth into her lower lip and suppressing the urge to spread her legs more.

  Lanie’s kiss next landed on the inside of Diana’s knee.

  Diana kept her disappointment silent and her body still, even as Lanie moved on to the other side. But then Lanie’s lips inched upward, mouthing the tender skin of Diana’s thigh, tantalizing the soft skin with her breath.

  Diana tried to get her own breathing under control as Lanie moved upward, as the tip of her nose skimmed against her leg and teeth sank into the crease between pubic bone and thigh.

  She swallowed a whimper as Lanie pressed a hand to the same place on the other side, thumb falling slowly down her slit, teasing at the entrance.

  Yes. Right there.

  But as always, Lanie was slow to give her that pleasure. She kissed up to the top of her mound, only to pull away.

  Annoyed, Diana opened her eyes, expecting to give Lanie a tongue-lashing for the tongue-lashing Diana wasn’t getting.

  But Lanie was only taking off her shirt.

  “Might get messy,” she said, wearing that smirk that always made Diana think of trouble—that always made her want trouble. The trouble never seemed to create guilt when she was with Lanie, though. Maybe that meant it was the good kind.

  Lanie dove back in, tracing the pads of her thumbs up Diana’s seam, slowly and torturously teasing the lips apart. And then Lanie’s lips were at the top again, softly nuzzling her mound. Plying Diana with anticipation.

  Lanie wasn’t the sort of woman who would be rushed, though.

  She closed her eyes again and concentrated on keeping her hands still, even as Lanie lifted her knees and settled down low.

  Tongue to soft folds, thumbs hooked gently inside her, widening Diana for sensual access.

  Diana tried to remember to breathe, but each flick of Lanie’s tongue had her drawing in air and not so much letting it out. Each rub of Lanie’s fingertips against her clit had the arches of her feet cramping and thighs quivering. Each notching of an index finger, and more, into her channel had her hips arching forward and her hands aching to grab the woman by the back of her head and press her down firmly.

  But if she did that, Lanie would stop, and Diana might die if she stopped.

  She’d missed her touch—she’d missed her—for so long, and she wouldn’t do anything to sabotage the pleasure.

  “Gods,” Diana whimpered as Lanie’s fingers sped and the suction around her clit increased. She could only squirm, but her body felt as though she would topple over. The heat building inside of her constricted her breathing yet again and the dull prickles building low in her core had her legs straining, heels pushing into the bed for counterbalance.

  And when Lanie’s hand crept up Diana’s torso and found one straining nipple, Diana gave up on any pretense of drawing out the suspense. She’d never been able to handle all those sensations at once.

  No sooner had Lanie pinched that nipple and sent stars cascading to the backs of Diana’s eyes did her body start its graceless convulsions, squeezing Lanie’s fingers vise-tight inside her, bucking against the bed with a shout.

  Lanie sat back on her heels, pouting. “You never give me a chance to get any real work done.”

  Diana heard the words, and she understood them well enough, but she was working on her breathing. She couldn’t talk, anyway, while her body was coming down from the high. Her limbs were still shaking, core still thrumming from the magic of Lanie’s mouth and fingers.

  Smiling with satisfaction, Lanie disappeared into the bathroom. She returned a few minutes later in her bra and panties and snuggled into the bed beside Diana. She fixed the covers around them and lay on her side, staring at Diana.

  “What?” Diana asked hoarsely, her brain a fog of lingering pleasure and exhaustion. “Oh. You want me to—”

  “No.” Lanie shook her head. “I’m fine. I’m not looking for reciprocation.”

  Oh.

  Diana wouldn’t have minded. She always thought that she didn’t do as good a job as Lanie did, though. Lanie seemed to know the exact sequence of buttons to press every single time, whereas Diana took a less ordered approach: Oh, this looks nice. Mmm, that tastes good. Wait, can’t forget about this bit. I want to suck that now, but this here, too.

  “I’m just wondering if you still need to be the little spoon,” Lanie mused.

  “You want me to spoon you?” Diana asked.

  Lanie shook her head.

  Lanie could probably sleep any time, anywhere, no matter if she was standing up, sitting up, or lying down. That was a skill she’d apparently developed in the Army.

  Well, then.

  Diana rolled onto her right side and pulled Lanie against her, looping her leg atop hers and stretching Lanie’s arm over her waist.

  For the moment, she didn’t want to think about anything. She didn’t want to worry about how things were bound to fall apart soon and how she shouldn’t be leading Lanie on, but right then, she had to allow herself that bit of comfort.

  She’d been without comfort since walking away from Lanie. Although that was no one’s fault but her own, she wanted a respite from the self-inflicted punishment for just a little while.

  And then later, they’d get back to the business of being apart.

  They had to be. Lanie had to sense that.

  Certainly, she could tell that Diana couldn’t keep up.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  “Look at this.”

  Lanie set the two coffee mugs down on coasters and reached for the stack of papers Diana held out. “What is it?”

  “It looks like a hand-written how-to guide for large household management. I think the housekeeper at the hacienda must have drafted it. I wond
er if it’s publishable.”

  Lanie settled onto the sofa and tucked her legs beneath her. She settled the papers atop her thighs, but she was more interested in Diana’s enthusiastic discovery of what was inside those trunks.

  At around nine, she’d sat up like a bolt in bed, startling Lanie awake. Lanie had thought there was a fire or something, but Diana had only scrambled to her feet and said, “What’s in those things?”

  Having no idea what the woman was talking about, Lanie had followed, rubbing her eyes.

  They were already poring through the second trunk. The first had been filled with fine linens and an assortment of silver serving utensils. Lanie suspected that the rest of the silverware set was at the bottom of the second trunk. Half an hour into the exploration, Diana was still distracted by papers at the top. The housekeeper seemed to have been a fascinating woman.

  “Oooh.” Diana held up a tattered book with mid-century cover styling. “Table setting guide. I guess the owners did a lot of entertaining.”

  “I sort of got the impression that their preferred style of entertaining involved roasting large sides of meat over open fires and eating them standing up.”

  Diana snorted. “Maybe so, but I think their housekeeper came out of a different sort of environment. They probably hired her away from a finer family.”

  “Could be. I wonder if I can find out anything else about her.”

  Diana chuckled and set the book atop the stack of publications she’d started. “How would you even do that?”

  “Might be easier than you think. You start with a name and an approximate age. You’d be surprised what you could quickly learn about a person, even if they didn’t have much of a footprint online. Doing deep dives into research is kind of my thing. It’s fun.”

  Diana’s smile waned and a bit of red bloomed in her cheeks and receded so quickly that Lanie doubted it’d even been there.

  “Do you want me to—”

  “No, that’s all right,” Diana said in a clipped tone Lanie didn’t understand. Diana picked up her coffee and sipped while rummaging through the trunk with her other hand.

  Lanie didn’t press. Diana had been in a fair mood up to that point and Lanie wanted to keep her in it. She hoped that the longer Diana was calm, the easier it would be to massage words out of her at a later time.