Lessons in Love

by Lessons in Love [Bold Strokes FF] (retail) (epub)

  Standing slowly, she peeled off her damp T-shirt, grateful for the rush of cool air on her moist skin. Catching a glimpse of herself in the bedroom mirror, she stared as she often did, bewildered by the changes. Her black hair, formerly cut to the point of bristly spikes, had not been trimmed in well over a year and now hung softly onto her shoulders. She had also gained weight, inertia and Robbie’s cooking replacing hard-packed muscles with softer flesh. She could easily fool herself into believing that the person in the mirror was a stranger, but the ugly, vicious scar that ran across her stomach and chest was her reality check. Although the wound was healed, it was still angry and vividly red. Its path slithered across her body, wrapping up and around a breast that she had nearly lost. Robbie suggested having a snake tattooed along its path, and the idea did have a certain appeal.

  She glanced at the clock with trepidation. In her former life, she had practically lived in bars. Now that she was stronger, Robbie was convinced that she needed to “get back in the saddle.” Tonight would be their third outing in as many weeks, but she simply could not get excited. With a sigh, she looked at the outfit Robbie had laid out for her—motorcycle boots, ragged jeans, and a black tee. It was the uniform of her prior life, but after spending months in nothing but hospital gowns and sweats, she dreaded wearing them.

  The worst part was what lay in the center—a brand new soft leather harness that sported an impressive nine-inch cock. A year ago she could not have imagined leaving the house without a dick between her thighs, but that had changed. Ignoring the harness, Tanner dressed.

  At the bar, she sat with one foot tucked upon the railing of her

  bar stool, doing her best to look comfortable in a place that no longer held her interest. By one a.m., her only wish was to go home. She was tired of ignoring the unabashed, hungry stares of women she didn’t want.

  Wanting to rush Robbie along, she said, “You should pick out what you want to play with tonight, so we can go home.”

  Robbie brushed a lock of blond hair from her eyes. “Don’t you mean whom, not what? Damn, Tanner! You’re talking about these lovely women like they’re objects, not people.”

  Laughing uncomfortably, Tanner punched Robbie’s arm. “Yeah, right! Since you’re so concerned about these women’s individuality, what was the name of the woman who spent last Friday night in your bed? Our walls are thin. I heard you call her three different names.”

  Wide-eyed in disbelief, Robbie said, “No, I didn’t!”

  Tanner grinned triumphantly. “Yes, you did. So tell me, was it Becky, Joan, or Gretchen?”

  Robbie cocked her head, deep in concentration before her nose crinkled. “Oh, hell! I can’t remember, but at least I was with someone. You act like you don’t care if you go home alone or not.”

  Tanner leaned back against the bar, feeling the sharp edge of the counter cut into the tender flesh of her back. She didn’t bother pulling away to ease the pinch. She had become accustomed to pain. It reminded her that she was alive. So much of her adult life had been about sex. She had used it to feel powerful and in control, never letting a woman linger in her bed for too long. It surprised her, but now she realized that it had all been hollow, an empty shell in comparison to the life she had unexpectedly built with Robbie. She liked being with her, hanging out at home watching television or doing nothing at all. It was enough.

  “I know you think you know best, and I hate to disappoint you,” Tanner said, “but the fact is, I really don’t care.”

  “How can you live without sex? I like it too much to give it up.”

  “That bulldozer must have crushed my libido, too. I don’t feel a thing. Just pick somebody and let’s go home.”

  Robbie eyed her suspiciously, but indicated a woman leaning against the wall by the dance floor. “What do you think about her?”

  Tanner scowled. “I’ll bet you ten bucks that your girl is an M to F. I think she is actually a he.”

  “You’re out of your mind! Look at her hands. They’re too small to be a man’s. Besides, she doesn’t have an Adam’s apple!”

  Pulling out a ten-dollar bill, Tanner waved it in front of Robbie’s nose. “That, my friend, is a chick with a dick. Go start a conversation and look for signs of razor stubble. Check out the voice, too. A man can hide his weenie. He can duct tape it down, but the voice never lies.”

  Perplexed, Robbie stared at the woman.

  Tanner laughed. The look on Robbie’s face was priceless, marred with self-doubt.

  Waving the bill at Robbie again, she said, “Check her out. If I’m wrong, you get the money and the woman.” Pausing as if a new thought had struck her, she softly added, “If I’m right, you go home with me.”

  “With you? I’m afraid that you can’t give me what I need, buddy.”

  Tanner drew in a deep breath. She really didn’t want anyone else to go home with them. Lowering her head, her gaze on the floor, she spoke, feeling as if the words were coming from a foreign place deep inside herself. “And just what exactly would that be?”

  Robbie cast a leering stare up and down Tanner’s body. “Are you flirting with me?”

  As Robbie’s appraising eyes scanned her body, Tanner felt her pulse increase. She flushed with embarrassment as she realized that she was feeling desire for the first time since her crash. It was almost overwhelming.

  “No, I’m not...flirting, that is. I wasn’t meaning that.” Her denial was weak, the words so poorly spoken that she didn’t even convince herself.

  Robbie cocked her head sideways and moved to fill the gap between them. Pushing soft strands of Tanner’s hair behind her ear, she said in a slow drawl, “I think you are, and I’ll willingly admit that it turns me on. If I had to pick between you and any other woman in this bar, it would be no contest.”

  Tanner swayed as Robbie bit her earlobe.

  Robbie whispered, “If you don’t want this, tell me right now. We’ll forget that it ever happened.”

  Stunned, Tanner couldn’t speak. Her knees buckled when Robbie spoke into her ear, filling it with hot, moist air. Her skin felt warm, her breath shallow. She knew that Robbie was a demanding lover, that she would not go to bed with any woman who refused to let her use her equipment, but would she expect it with her? Granted, Tanner could admit that she was not the hard butch that she used to be, but that didn’t mean she was ready to be a femme bottom either. Still, the idea of sleeping with Robbie took her breath away. She couldn’t say no.

  Robbie took Tanner’s hand. Leading her out of the bar, she murmured, “Don’t think so hard, Tanner. I would never do anything that you don’t want.”

  Once home, Tanner mumbled, “I can’t stop shaking,” as Robbie reached for the fly of her jeans.

  Robbie directed Tanner’s hand to the bedpost. “Here, hold this.” She hugged Tanner and whispered, “You’ll be okay. I promise. It’s just been too long. You’ve needed this for so long.”

  Robbie’s hands, sure and soft, roamed under the loose band of Tanner’s pants until the jeans fell to the floor. She covered Tanner’s face with nibbling kisses, avoiding her lips. With one hand clinging to the post, Tanner placed her other on Robbie’s hips, riveted by the delicate touches. This softness was not what she expected, but it was exactly what she needed. Robbie had taken care of her for so long. It took this act, dropping her last vestige of withholding from Robbie, for Tanner to realize that she loved her.

  The trembling began anew. She groaned loudly as Robbie cupped her ass and pulled her close. Their hips melded and Tanner felt the nudging of Robbie’s dildo between her thighs. A strong, deep pulse beat in the wetness between her legs. Letting go of the bedpost, she took Robbie’s face in her hands. Clutching at her, she demanded, “Kiss me, Rob. I need you to kiss me.”

  When Robbie’s tongue filled her mouth, Tanner tried to suck it deeper into herself. She was starving. She would have gone on kissing her forever but Robbie pulled away and laid her gently upon the bed, as tenderly as when she brought Tan
ner home from the hospital.

  Tanner nearly cried out when Robbie took her in her strong, protective arms. It had been an extremely long time since she had felt safe, and at that moment, she did not give a damn what anyone might think of her. When Robbie began stroking her nipples through her shirt, she gasped loudly and gripped the sheet into her fists. She could not stop the slow, gyrating motions that propelled her hips into Robbie’s thigh, but her breath froze in her throat when Robbie’s hand slid under the hem of her shirt. Robbie had bandaged her wounds for months, but this was different. Tanner felt vulnerable and weak.

  Holding Tanner’s cheek in her palm, Robbie looked into her eyes. “Trust me, baby. Your scar is beautiful to me. I wouldn’t be here with you, like this, if you didn’t have it. It’s as much a part of me now as it is you.”

  Robbie kissed her again, so piercingly that Tanner felt safe once more. She guided Robbie’s hand under her shirt, her back arching in pleasure as bare fingers settled on her breast. When she could stand it no longer, she pulled her shirt free and tugged it off.

  Robbie’s eyes soaked her in, a look of awe on her face as she began tracing the jagged scar with her fingertips. Her lips soon followed. She drew them slowly along the line from Tanner’s hip, over her stomach, her chest, and around her breast. Tanner could only clasp the back of Robbie’s head, threading her fingers into the soft blond hair as Robbie completed this ritual over and over. It was so loving that Tanner felt as if her bones, once crushed, had now melted. When Robbie latched onto her nipple and began twirling it with her tongue, Tanner felt the telltale quiverings of a pending orgasm and wetness oozed from her. Wanting to feel skin, she grasped Robbie’s shirt. “Take this off!”

  Sliding off the bed, Robbie quickly pulled her shirt free and dropped it to the floor. Her fingers were clumsy as she tried to unhook her big silver belt buckle. When it finally came free, she pushed her jeans off her hips, along with her boxers. She paused, and they both stared down at eight inches of hot pink latex that protruded from Robbie’s hips like a steel rod.

  “I’ll take it off,” Robbie said quietly.

  Humbled by Robbie’s willingness to lay aside the thing that represented her most sexual self, Tanner knew that she could never ask that of her. She felt naked, hungry, because of Robbie’s absence. She lifted a hand, beckoning her. “Leave it on.”

  Robbie crawled to Tanner’s side, capturing her mouth in a kiss as she ran a hand down her body. When she reached the band of boxer shorts, she pushed them down as Tanner lifted. Once they were free, she traced her fingers up inner thighs that opened for her. With a deep moan, she slid her fingers into the wet depths. Tanner called out her name and sank fingernails into the flesh of her back.

  Robbie circled Tanner’s hard clit over and over, causing bright bursts of light to appear behind Tanner’s eyelids every time contact was made. Lifting her hips, she arched against those hands, trying to bury them deeply inside herself. Robbie shifted to kneel between her legs but didn’t attempt to penetrate her. She claimed Tanner’s nipple with her hot mouth before slipping her hand back between their bodies.

  Tanner had feared that her body’s ability to feel passion had been crushed by her death-defying crash into unbending steel, but it burst back to life under Robbie’s hands. As her orgasm claimed her, she heaved upward, her body frozen until spasms, deep tremors that seemed to originate within her heart, wracked her body.

  Gasping for breath, she pulled Robbie up, needing to kiss her again. She felt a new shock wave surge through her as Robbie’s cock rubbed against her cunt. Her orgasm had not even fully subsided but she wanted Robbie inside of her. She wanted to give herself to Robbie, to hold nothing back. When she felt the tip of the cock slide inside her folds, she frantically clutched her lover’s shoulders. She knew that Robbie was waiting for her to take only what she wanted, so she wrapped her legs around Robbie’s hips, curling her calf muscles to propel Robbie forward. The movement forced Robbie into her depths. They both moaned and shuddered at the joining.

  Slowly, sensually, Robbie began to rock and the pace built as Tanner lifted to meet her stroke for stroke. As Tanner’s orgasm approached, she sank her heels tighter into Robbie’s ass, impaling herself even farther onto the shaft as she screamed, “Oh God, Robbie! I love you so fucking much!”

  Robbie whirled over onto her back, bringing Tanner upon her. In the dim light of the room, she once again took Tanner’s face in her hands and softly kissed Tanner’s trembling lips. “I love you too, baby.”

  Tanner could not stop a ragged sob when Robbie slid out from under her, separating them, leaving her feeling empty. Instead of pulling away, Robbie gripped Tanner’s hand.

  “I’m not going anywhere. Help me,” Robbie said as she stood by the bed, unbuckling her harness. When it came free, she held it out to Tanner. “Put it on.”

  Amazed, Tanner stared at Robbie. fresh tears flowing, as she comprehended that Robbie was making herself as vulnerable and open as was humanly possible. She was offering to give Tanner everything, just as Tanner had done. Mutely, Tanner did as she was told while Robbie helped buckle the harness onto her hips. She felt like an invalid child instead of an experienced dyke who used to wear a strap-on to the 7-Eleven just because she felt naked without it. Once it was in place, Robbie lay back on the bed with her knees raised. When Tanner came between them, it was Robbie who was quivering with nervousness.

  Tanner felt as if she were kneeling in front of an altar. This woman, this tough but sensitive dyke, had brought her back to life. Robbie had loved her the way no one else had, and she was everything Tanner wanted. Reverently, Tanner caressed Robbie’s legs, allowing only her fingertips to glide along the path from toes up to the softer flesh of inner thighs. Robbie’s eyes were glazed with lust as she began dancing against Tanner’s moving hands. Tanner knelt even more prayerfully and sank her mouth onto the wetness of Robbie’s sex. Robbie guided her with her hands as Tanner explored, drinking the rich nectar until Robbie came, contracting and pulsating around her tongue.

  Not willing to relinquish the pleasure, Tanner stayed away from Robbie’s sharply sensitive clit but continued to lick her, tasting her. While Robbie softly stroked her hair, Tanner slid her hands under Robbie’s hips and lifted her tighter against her mouth. She slowly brought her passion forth, letting the next wave of desire build. Rising, she lay upon Robbie, capturing her mouth in a fevered kiss. Then, taking Robbie’s hands in her own, she interlaced their fingers. She whispered softly, “I want to fuck you.”

  Robbie tensed but, her eyes locked on Tanner, reached between them and guided the head of cock to the mouth of her cunt. “Go slow. I’ve never let this happen before.”

  Tanner already knew that. They had talked about the need to be in control many, many times. As she slowly pushed forward, she prayed that Robbie would feel the same sense of rightness that she had felt when Robbie filled her. Clinging to Robbie’s hands while she sank inside, she said, “Feel me loving you, Rob. Feel me inside you. I didn’t even know that that’s where I wanted to be, but it feels so right. So perfect.”

  As she continued her loving litany of words, Tanner thrust slowly in and out, her body moving with a graceful ease that belied her weak, damaged muscles. She watched Robbie’s face closely as the tense anxiety slowly gave way to fiery passion. As Robbie’s tender, strong hands clung to her, guiding her deeper, faster, with each stroke, Tanner’s love for her burgeoned.

  Tanner’s accident had left her wounded, savagely bent, twisted and broken. The hospital staff had saved her life, but it had been Robbie who had healed her, Robbie who had somehow transformed stone.

  Quiet, Please

  Rachel Krammer Bussel

  I was in the middle of telling Jackie all about my day at work, the words tripping over themselves as I rushed to get them out quickly, my hair falling sloppily across my forehead as I took another breath, when she reached her fingers up and put two of them to my lips. “Shh,” she said. “No talking.”
>
  At first, I was upset; wasn’t I in the middle of telling her an important story, trying to get her to understand how rough my day had been? But then I took another look at her pretty face, the light dusting of freckles across her pale skin, the shock of red spiky hair sticking up from her head, her natural red color enhanced with day-glo chemicals she seemed to apply every other week. Her pale, lightly frosted lips were pursed, as if about to blow on a cup of cocoa, but she was simply telling me she wanted my full attention. Then Jackie leaned forward, letting her fingertips trail down my cheek, along my neck until they’d reached my bra strap. She fiddled with it while bringing her own lips forward, until their glossy, sticky surface met my bare ones, brushing against mine slowly, lightly. My body, starting with my shoulder blades, relaxed, the pent-up story slowly leaking out as I sank into the chair, into the kiss. I tilted my head back slightly and she angled forward, pouncing on me as she moved to straddle me, her body edging over mine as her fingers snaked down lower toward my breast. Her other hand easily slipped the ponytail holder from my hair, letting it fall in a wave down my back. Jackie’s smaller than me, thin and lithe, but I never underestimate her. She’s like a snake, careful to bide her time, slithering her tongue out just so when she wants something, like she did just then, her tongue darting between my lips for a brief instant, long enough to connect with my tongue and ignite a fire that began in my mouth and coiled all the way down my throat, into my belly, and settled in my groin. I could feel its rumblings stirring my pussy and felt the very last vestiges of the day’s stress leave me as I succumbed to Jackie, my Jackie, the girl of my dreams for the last decade.

  Jackie stayed home painting her masterpieces, for local galleries, occasional magazine work, or commissions, and I often returned to find her covered in paint, her eyes so focused on the canvas in front of her she hardly took notice of the smear of blue or yellow across her cheek. I’d sometimes find errant streaks along her hands, and we’d made washing her off a very sexual ritual. But today she’d been scrubbed totally clean, as if ready to attack, which is exactly what she did, pinning me to the chair as her fingers tangled in the roots of my hair, pulling it just the way she knows makes me gasp, makes my pussy contort with pure need. I started to moan, to say “Yes,” but once again, she shut me up, this time with a kiss. “No talking,” she insisted, and when she moved on to my chest, her lips leaving mini-kisses along my dewy skin until she reached the gap between my breasts, I clamped my lips together and let her show me what she had in mind. She burrowed her head in the expanse of my cleavage, reaching her arms behind me to undo my bra. I wasn’t used to being so passive, to taking and taking without giving anything back, but from Jackie’s fevered panting, she was apparently getting off on our silent adventure just as much as I was. She lifted her head from my skin to remove my shirt, then pulled my bra forward, over my arms, but instead of dropping it on the ground she moved behind me, tying my wrists behind my back with the slightly clumsy but effective bow of my bra.