by D. L. King
“Christ,” Thea said, and I grinned, because I hoped that meant she hadn’t disappeared entirely into that fundamentalist church. I opened the rest of the shirt, and she pressed her face to my chest.
Thea sucked my nipples, and I arched into it. She made a sound that was far too close to a sob, and I swallowed hard. Sympathetic tears started in my own eyes, unbidden.
To stop the emotion from overwhelming me, I focused on the physical. I found Thea’s other hand and pulled it under my skirt, trapped it between my thighs, let her feel how wet I’d gotten while we kissed.
“Fuck me.” I wanted to command her, but instead the words came out in the begging tone I’d used when we were together.
“I shouldn’t,” Thea moaned. Her fingers were already creeping under the elastic of my panties. I tilted my hips to give her better access.
“I think you should,” I told her. I wanted to go on, to scold her for pretending to be someone she wasn’t, but my words broke off in a gasp. The new Thea might have been tentative and guilt stricken, but she still had no trouble finding my G-spot. “Yes…”
I grabbed fistfuls of her hair for balance. I wanted to touch her, too, to drive her wild the same way she was doing to me, but the rhythm she set didn’t give me room to do anything but lean my forehead on the top edge of the driver’s seat and whimper. I’d masturbated since we were last together, hundreds of times, and I’d fucked and been fucked by other women, some of whom were good in bed. No one was like Thea. It felt like my body had been asleep since we were lovers, as if only Thea had the key that could unlock my truest, deepest orgasm.
I was well on my way to coming, but she pulled her hand away at the last second.
“No! Wait! I’m so close.”
“I know.” Thea lifted me off her lap, her arms as strong as ever. With only a little help from me, she propelled me back to the passenger side of the car, and then slipped down into the space between my legs.
Her tongue felt so good it hurt. I wanted to watch her, but the sensations were too intense. I squeezed my eyes shut, a few tears leaking out the corners. She had to hold me by the hips to keep me from squirming away.
I’d gotten too close and then stopped, and I couldn’t work up to coming again. My clit was trapped just on the edge of climax. The slightest heat of her breath made me jerk and tremble and tense, but nothing could take me over the edge.
She moaned softly as she played with me. I grabbed the headrest behind me and dug my fingers in for all I was worth. The moment was excruciating, but I never wanted it to end.
Soon, I found myself trying to hold back my orgasm, just because I wanted to keep her between my legs. Thea was much too clever for that, though. She slid fingers into me as she licked and then, ever so gently, began to toy with the entrance to my ass. No one but Thea had ever touched me there. A flood of memories rushed through me—of first times, of hot times, of intense times.
Then they all faded behind the force of this time. As the very tip of her index finger slipped into my ass, she captured my clit between her lips, sucking gently and tapping it with her tongue.
I sobbed as I came, clawing at her hair. I said foolish, stupid things in the moments afterward, about how I’d never stopped loving her, about how I needed her body always, about how I was glad we were back together.
She came up to join me in the seat, but she wouldn’t let me touch her in return, and she wiped her chin harshly with a tissue from the glove compartment.
“Thea, what’s the matter?”
“I have to go home.”
“Now?”
She pulled my head to her chest, stroking my hair with a touch too light for my taste. She took a deep breath. “You never met my parents,” she said.
I made a small sound of acknowledgment.
“The night after the concert, when I went to see them, they wanted to pull me out of school. They said college was corrupting me. Someone saw me with you, in that alley out back of Lupo’s.”
“They can’t have been up to anything super-pious themselves, if they—”
“That doesn’t matter. I was never a good liar. I couldn’t deny the story. I couldn’t…” She stopped talking, her grip tightening on me. “I couldn’t deny how I felt about you, what you were to me.”
“Why didn’t you tell me? I would have helped you. I would have done anything.”
“Shh. I know. If it had been just about me, I would have told them to fuck off. But it wasn’t. My sister was a senior in high school, and they weren’t going to let her go to college at all.”
“Assholes.”
“I would have found a way to make it work, gone into debt, whatever. My sister didn’t sign up for that, though. I couldn’t put her through that just because of my selfish desires.”
“You’re not selfish.”
She tilted my chin up and kissed me like she owned me. “Babe. You know I am.”
I didn’t agree, but I didn’t argue.
“I asked them what they wanted me to do, and I’m—” She gestured at her long hair. “I’m doing it. All of it. I should have told you the truth. You deserved better. You still do.” She tucked hair away from my forehead. “What the hell are you doing here? Hiding with me in a parking lot outside of IHOP?”
“Thea—”
She shook her head, cutting off whatever I’d been about to say. I could have persuaded her that night. I could feel the power I had over her. I thought of Thea’s sister. Did I have the right to demand that Thea make a gesture that affected someone else, too?
“We can’t do this again,” she said. “This has to be the last time.”
“Neither one of us is selfish,” I said bitterly. I ran back to my car before I lost my dignity and begged.
Thea isn’t in the bedroom. I see it empty, mutter to myself and then hear something behind me.
I turn back to see her shape on the couch, mostly hidden by the darkness. “Thea? Are you okay?”
“No,” she answers.
I go to her, kneeling on the cushion beside her, touching her face and finding it wet. Then I freeze, because the long hair is gone. I realize that I can smell her old leather scent for the first time in forever, but there’s also something dusty that tickles my nose. My heart starts to beat even faster than it did on the way over for what I thought would be another intense but secretive lay.
“What’s going on?” I ask.
“My sister came out. She basically gave my parents the finger. Says she’ll deal with college on her own, and they can go ahead and disown her if they want.”
“That’s badass,” I say. “That’s good, right?”
Thea pulls me into her lap, kissing me, crying on me, clutching at me. “I guess,” she says between sobs. “When I heard, all I could think about was you. What I did to you… The time we could have had together.” She takes my hand and puts it on her short hair. “I want to go back to how things were.”
That makes me want to join her tears. I lean my forehead against hers and fumble for the light. “We can’t,” I say. “We can only be who we are now.”
When I pull back, Thea’s face is swollen from crying, but it’s also bare and open. Her fingers are clutching my hips hard enough to bruise, but I don’t mind. Hope is rising in my heart.
I ease her hands away from me and walk deliberately to the big picture window cut into the wall of her living room. Standing in front of it, illuminated by the lamp behind me, I undo my buttons, slide out of my skirt.
“Mel?” Thea says.
“I never cared who saw us fucking,” I tell her, unclasping my bra, pushing my underwear down my legs. “Not at Lupo’s. Not at IHOP. Not anywhere.” I turn to face her. The way her eyes widen at the sight of me makes me feel beautiful and free. “Now neither of us has to care.”
Instead of the last time, this feels like the first. She comes to me, and I come for her.
YOU HAVE THE RIGHT TO REMAIN NAKED
Samantha Luce
Son of
a bitch, I grumble in my head. I’d missed my moment yet again. Jaz was already home. On her way to the shower, she’d removed the heavy gun belt. It hangs from the hook near the door. I reach to touch the slightly worn leather. It’s still warm and just a tad moist. I can still hear the shower running. Nevertheless I steal a quick glance around the compact home to make sure she’s nowhere in sight before I give completely in to temptation and bring my face close enough to rub the leather against my cheek. A soft moan escapes my lips.
Not long ago this leather strap had been wrapped around her waist. How many times had she grasped this belt during the day to hoist it higher on her hips? No matter how snug she cinched it, the damn thing was always sliding lower. Sure, I know it’s the pull of gravity making it drop lower on her hips. It dips without the same lusty urgency that makes me slide down her sculpted body whenever we’re together. Doesn’t mean I don’t envy that it gets to spend the day wrapped snugly around her.
There’s a sweet spot just below where the belt normally rests on her hips. That apex between her thighs is my new safe place. It keeps me warm and blocks out all of life’s insanity. I’d discovered this safe haven only three short months ago.
A fender bender in rush-hour traffic had brought us together. I was fuming. I had the right of way. I was on my way home after a long day. All I wanted was a glass of wine and some mindless reality TV to make me forget the mountains of paper threatening to bury me at the office. Instead I was stuck on the side of the road, my tire flat, the driver’s side rear door sunken in about a foot, and a man in his eighties, who drove a tank disguised as a Buick, sitting across from me, looking sad and apologetic. The bumper of his car had only a minor dent. Luckily, we were both traveling solo and neither one of us was injured.
I saw the flashing blue light in my rearview mirror and was grateful and stressed at the same time. I knew I wasn’t at fault, but cops always make me nervous. Any chance encounter I’d had with them normally ended with me getting a ticket or dragged back to school and told never to skip again.
The cop who dismounted the black-and-white motorcycle that day made me nervous for a whole new slew of reasons. She was tall, athletic and wore the tight black-and-white uniform the way Danica Patrick wears her racing suit, confidently and sexily. When she removed her helmet, her long blonde hair tied back in a ponytail fell loose and grazed the collar of her crisp white shirt. After determining neither one of us needed medical attention, she spoke to the older man first.
I tried not to stare at her as she spoke in hushed tones. I grabbed my cell phone and clicked on various apps just to have something else to look at. Every thirty seconds or so, my eyes were drawn back to the beautiful officer with the soft, throaty voice. I couldn’t hear her when she was at the other driver’s car, but that didn’t stop me from watching her perfect Cupid’s bow lips. They weren’t painted. It actually didn’t look like she had on any makeup at all. Perhaps a small amount of lip gloss or ChapStick to help combat the moist Florida heat, but that was all. She didn’t need anything else.
About twenty minutes later, another Buick pulled up beside the other driver’s vehicle. An elderly female got out and rushed to the man’s side. The flaxen-haired cop made her way over to me. “You sure you’re okay, Emma?” she asked me. There was a small bead of sweat near her temple. It had gathered just enough moisture to slowly trickle down her cheek and jaw.
The trajectory of the moisture held me captivated. The urge to follow its salty trail with my tongue was overwhelming. My lips parted, tongue darting out, but I held back and licked my lips instead.
“Emma?” She’d removed her dark sunglasses. A look of concern caused her bright green eyes to narrow.
“I’m fine.” I flashed her the smile I keep on reserve when I’m courting a new client for business. “Just daydreaming. Is Harry all right?”
“Yes, just a bit shaken. His wife just arrived. She’ll drive him home. One of their sons is going to pick up his car later.” She paused, pulled a few sheets from her pad and handed them to me. “He admitted he was at fault. I’ve collected all his information and issued him a citation for causing an accident. You’ll just need to file the claim and his insurance will cover your repairs. The official accident report will be available at the precinct in three days if you need a copy. Do you have any questions?”
A few questions drifted through my mind. Are you single? Do you like girls? What’s your favorite position? Can I take you home and lick you until you come a hundred times on my tongue?
I shook my head and smiled. I didn’t think it’d be a good idea for me to verbalize a response. The vision in front of me was making me want to lose all my inhibitions. I figured it must have been a combination of the heat, her beauty and the damn uniform. The knee-high leather boots and shiny silver badge certainly didn’t hurt either.
She gently kicked the flat tire with the toe of her boot, and then knelt down to get a closer look. “It’s a shame about the tire. It doesn’t look like the wheel well has been compromised. The axle looks fine too. Do you have a spare?”
Is it my imagination? I wondered. Or is her gaze lingering just a second or two longer than necessary on my legs? The stockings I wore suddenly felt tighter under her stare. “I do have a spare, but I’ve never changed a tire before,” I answered. My eyes never wavered, but hers did. They flitted lower to watch my mouth as I spoke. She coupled the flirtatious glances with smiles that somehow balanced between shy, confident and sexy.
When she told me to cancel the tow truck because she would change the tire, it seemed only natural for me to thank her by offering to buy her dinner. She accepted, and the rest, as they say, is history, or in our case, herstory.
“Hey, babe,” Jaz’s voice brings me out of my reverie. Her long hair is wet and freshly combed back from her sculpted cheeks and dimpled chin. Big green eyes twinkle when she smiles. She’s wrapped in only a towel. “You look good enough to eat.” She winks. “It sucks I’ve got this stupid headache. Any chance I could talk you into going to the store to get me some BC?”
I try to stifle the cringe. Whenever I think of BC, it brings back the bitter taste of the powder my mother used to make me drink when I had a fever. I look at my beautiful young lover and wonder again why she chooses such an old-fashioned pain remedy. I can’t deny her anything though, so I give her a quick peck on the cheek and head back out into the heat.
In under a half hour I’m back at the house, once again parking in the garage. The sun has gone down and the temperature has dropped to a tolerable degree. I turn off the ignition as the garage door slides closed and I’m surprised to see the flash of blue lights. Before I can turn around I hear a firm, authoritative voice. “Step out of the car and place your hands on the roof of the vehicle.”
I get out and start to turn around, but the commanding voice stops me again. “Eyes forward. Hands on the roof.”
There’s something familiar in the voice. It sounds like Jaz, but it’s a different Jaz. This Jaz sounds like she belongs in an action movie where she’s the badass female hero. I don’t know where this is going, but I’m dying to find out, I think as I follow orders.
I hear the light thud of boots on the cement floor. A moment later she’s close behind me. Her boot taps the inside of my heel. “Spread.”
“Jaz, what are you—?”
“Do you want to add resisting arrest to your charges?” she barks, cutting me off.
“Charges?” I barely stifle the urge to chuckle while spreading my legs wider.
Her warm breath on the back of my neck and the feel of her gloved hands on my shoulders make me forget any other questions or protests. A shudder runs through me the moment her hands begin their exploration. I’m so wet, with my legs parted, I know she must smell my desire.
Her hands slide over my back and down past my ass to my thighs. My stockings and her leather gloves make it impossible for skin-to-skin contact, but I’m still so turned on my legs are weak. She presses against me from
behind. Her tits are firm against my shoulder blades at the same time as her hands come forward and she cups my breasts.
I can’t stifle a groan. The urge to reach back and pull her to me is driving me mad. My hands move toward her, but she backs out of reach.
“Stay still or I’ll have to cuff you.”
There’s an idea with real potential.
She comes forward again. The warmth of her body adds to my heat and we aren’t even touching. Then, her full lips brush against my ear sending a chill racing the length of my spine. “Do you want me to cuff you?”
“It might be for the best, Jaz. I don’t know how much longer I can control myself. What happened to your headache?”
She gently takes my hands and brings them together behind my back as she explains. “In the course of an investigation it’s permissible for an officer of the law to use deception in order to procure a confession.”
I give in to the desire to laugh. “So, you lied to me?”
“I had to get you out of the house in order to set the scene.” She presses the full length of her heavenly body against me. I tilt my head back on her shoulder and nuzzle her vanilla-scented neck. “Five times,” she continues. “I personally have witnessed you either staring hungrily at my uniform, or touching it in what could be considered an inappropriate manner.”
Metal touches my wrists and soon they’re locked in place between us. When I try to pull them apart I feel something furry and padded. “Jaz, I don’t think these are regulation handcuffs.”
She laughs softly. The sound is so warm and inviting I can feel myself melting against her. Her hands come around and she’s squeezing my breasts. My nipples are erect for her, straining against the bra and my dress.
It isn’t easy with the cuffs, but I manage to cup my fingers and stroke her hips and crotch. Her breath quickens. “You first,” she says huskily.