A Time to Speak

by Riley Scott

  “I know,” Dominique said quietly. “I know.”

  For a moment, Amy stared at her dumbfounded. Cocking her head to the side, she raised an eyebrow. “You too?”

  The question was simple, but Dominique had thought the answer was obvious. “Of course.” She trembled as she watched Amy’s eyes darken—with knowing or with lust, she wasn’t certain.

  This time, when Amy bit her lip, Dominique reached up, running her hand up Amy’s arm. In a flash, the sweet, innocent, rambling woman beside her had turned into a seductress, and Dominique couldn’t find the words to halt the freight train. And worse yet, she couldn’t decide if she wanted to. Amy followed suit, letting her fingers roam and explore, if only as brazenly as to touch Dominique’s arm. As Amy’s fingertips sizzled with electric fire on her skin, Dominique let out a ragged breath and held her hand up in protest, using all of the strength she had.

  Amy stopped in her tracks. “I’m sorry.” She cast her eyes down to the ground. “Did I cross a line?”

  “I touched you first.” Dominique looked up to the sky for answers.

  “I wanted you to.”

  Dominique gulped, the last of her willpower hanging on by a thread. “Is it the whiskey?”

  Amy let out a low, throaty laugh. “Not at all.” She bit her lip, looking unsure once again, and Dominique sighed.

  “You didn’t do anything wrong.” Dominique assured her. She lifted her hand to touch Amy but dropped it by her side. Amy laughed nervously. “Do you want me to touch you again?”

  “I do,” Amy said with a nod. “At least if that’s what you want.”

  “It is.”

  “Come here,” Amy beckoned, walking back to the log. Taking a seat, she appeared to be holding her breath while Dominique took a seat. But once they were both seated and she turned to face Dominique, her eyes shimmered with lust. “If this is what you want, and it’s what I want, don’t stop this time.”

  Dominique reached for Amy’s hand, but Amy clearly had other plans. Amy placed her hand gently on Dominique’s leg and pulled her closer. With a smile, Dominique threw her arm around Amy’s shoulders. Amy’s contented sigh filled the air, and Dominique nestled into the embrace.

  “Tell me more,” Dominique said. “What drove you to open up the bakery?”

  Amy looked up, her nose crinkling as she thought about her response. “I’m good at it.” She took another swig from the bottle. “Truth is, I was always pretty handy in the kitchen, and I like to make people happy. I like the smile they get when they reach for a muffin or bagel. I like watching kids’ eyes grow as they see the pastries behind the glass. I know it’s offering the world a simplistic kind of joy, but I really get a lot out of being the one to provide that joy. Whether it’s a ‘just broke up with someone,’ eating-your-feelings kind of satisfaction or a truly decadent splurge, people seem happier when they leave. That, and the coffee shop kind of went in line with it, because coffee makes people into functional humans.”

  Dominique laughed. She liked that—the ease with which Amy made her laugh. “That’s right. I know when I’m without coffee, I’m basically just a fussy toddler who needs a time out.”

  “We all are.” Amy took a deep breath, her smile softening, as she traced the outline of Dominique’s face with her fingertips. Dominique bit her lip and breathed in. A simple touch right now was enough to jumble her every thought. “What about you? Why do you do what you do?”

  “Same reasons…but different.” Dominique laughed. “Guess that doesn’t make much sense, so I’ll explain. I’m not sure there’s a pinpoint moment that shaped my fate as an equality advocate, other than growing up feeling different. I had so much different placed on me as a kid. My parents came here from Mexico, and we were already the different ones in town. On top of that, we were broke. Incredibly broke. So, we were the poor, Hispanic family. I was already an outcast kid. When I got in touch with my feelings and realized I was gay in addition to everything else, I saw the depths of hatred. I was picked on, bullied, made to feel less than. But I wasn’t alone. So many others were in the same boat. Someone had to speak for us and, since I was already so different, I figured it might as well be me.”

  “The hero we’ve been waiting for…” Amy chimed in. To Dominique’s surprise, Amy’s eyes held genuine admiration, not a mocking stare.

  “I’m no hero,” Dominique said with a laugh. “I just needed people to be better, to be decent. We all have good in us, and I want more people to show that. Truth be told, I am pretty sure I got into this field because I was pissed off at the disparities in the world. I’m not the first, by a long shot. This has been going on for decades, and I’m just lucky to be a part of it at this point in history.”

  “I get the pissed off thing.” Amy looked off into the distance and set the bottle on the ground. “I really do.”

  “You have every right to be as pissed off as any of us.” Instinctively Dominique reached down and laced her fingers through Amy’s. “Every right,” she repeated.

  “What do I do about it?” Amy tightened her fingers around Dominique’s.

  “I think you’re on the right track.”

  Forming her lips into a tight line, Amy nodded and let out a sigh. “Tell me more about you.”

  “What do you want to know?”

  Amy raised an eyebrow and stroked her chin playfully. Without warning, she bolted upright in her seat. “I’ve got an idea. Why don’t we make this a true girls’ night out at the campsite and play a little truth or dare?”

  Warning signals flashed in Dominique’s mind, but she inexplicably nodded. “Sounds like a plan.” She gave a thumbs-up signal and mentally chided herself. Who was she right now? She didn’t give thumbs-up signs. That was the equivalent of shooting your crush the finger guns, complete with a clicking throat sound.

  Amy just smiled and slid back on the log to sit cross-legged. “You go first. Truth or dare?”

  “Truth.”

  Amy looked up at the stars, crinkling her nose as she searched for the perfect option. “Hmm,” she said after a moment and then leveled her gaze. “Time to dig deep. If you were stranded, what are three things you would want to have with you?”

  “I’m assuming I don’t have a cell phone?”

  “Nope. No cell phone.”

  “In that case, chapstick, food, and someone who makes me laugh.”

  “Damn,” Amy said, shaking her head. “I was hoping I’d get to come.”

  “How do you know you’re not the one who makes me laugh?” Dominique winked as the words dripped off her tongue. If only Amy had the slightest idea how often she lifted Dominique’s spirits, that wouldn’t have even been a question.

  “Good,” Amy said. “I guess that makes it my turn, and I pick truth as well.”

  “What is the stupidest thing you’ve done that someone dared you to do?”

  Amy let out a groan and looked upward. “Let me preface this with the fact that I was young and stupid and if you’re asking to see how many stupid things you can make me do on a dare, I’ll warn you that I’ve grown up a bit.” She put her hands up in mock caution. Just as quickly, she shook her head. “Who the hell am I kidding? I’m still too competitive to let a dare stand. Anyway.” She let out a sigh but didn’t cast her eyes downward. Instead, she made full eye contact and raised an eyebrow. “When I was sixteen, we had a huge snowstorm. We’re talking drifts a few feet deep. It was a freak thing, but we were playing truth or dare, and a friend of mine dared me to take off all my clothes, except my snow boots, and run around in the snow for ten minutes. I did it. I also dove into a snow bank to cover myself up so I didn’t get caught when her parents came outside to check on us.”

  “Ouch,” Dominique winced.

  “Yeah. I got some frostbite in some places and some cold burns in others, but I won the game.” Dominique couldn’t control her laughter. She watched as Amy shrugged and laughed along with her. “Your turn.”

  Dominique bit her lip, considering her
options. “After that bold of a dare was even mentioned, I think I’ll stick with truth.”

  “Come on, spice it up with a dare,” Amy teased. “There’s not even snow on the ground.” She laughed for a second and then her demeanor changed. Her devilish smile returned, and her dimple twitched. “What do you find attractive in a woman?”

  “I like a woman with a sense of humor, who can make me laugh, even if she’s not trying to be overtly funny. I like someone who gets deep on life issues, but also has a playful side. And I’m a sucker for sweet women, women who make a difference through their kindness. Being genuine and honest is also a huge turn-on.”

  “What about physically?” Amy narrowed her eyes.

  “You’re only supposed to get one question, but I’ll let it slide this time. Pretty eyes are my weakness—and those can be any color. Green, blue, brown. As long as they’re the type of eyes that glimmer in the light, that show me the sparkle of the woman. I also prefer women with longer hair and of course…” She looked off into the distance. “Of course, boobs.”

  Amy giggled. “Who doesn’t love boobs? I think that’s why I’m gay.”

  “Really? It’s all about the boobs?”

  “Not all,” she said. With a shrug, she added, “I mean, maybe that’s not the entirety of the reason…but it is close.”

  Dominique laughed and shook her head. “Your turn.”

  “Truth,” she said, her eyes dancing as though a gauntlet had been thrown down between them.

  “What are you afraid of?”

  “A lot of things scare me. Losing those I love, being unsuccessful, and lizards. I hate lizards. They’re snakes with legs and they creep me out.”

  They both laughed, and Amy motioned for Dominique to take her turn. “What the hell? I’ll mix it up. Dare.”

  Amy straightened her back and wrung her hands together deviously. “I dare you to…” She paused, placing a finger to her lips in concentration. “Kiss me.”

  The breath Dominique had been holding slid out hissing like a snake. She bit her lip, her heart hammering in her chest. She opened her mouth to speak, but Amy moved closer, placing her finger over Dominique’s mouth. “Look, if you’re going to keep getting this close to me, flirting and biting your sexy bottom lip, you’re either going to have to tell me you’re never going to kiss me and let me get the notion out of my head, or you’re going to need to kiss me and let this raging fire within me finally explode.”

  No longer able to resist, Dominique caved when Amy brought her full lips closer. In the split second before their lips met, Dominique’s breath caught in her throat, the full intensity of her feelings escaping in a small sigh, as she pressed her lips to Amy’s.

  Simple. Sweet. At least, it was at first. Quickly the moment changed. Amy pulled back, lust evident in her darkening eyes. The right corner of her lip rose in a devious smile, and she dove back in. Deepening the kiss, Amy tangled her fingers through Dominique’s hair. Dominique shivered.

  Should we be doing this? Dominique’s thoughts ran rampant. She should stop but…she couldn’t. Or wouldn’t. Either way, it didn’t make a difference. There was no stopping the train. She ran her fingers across Amy’s face, never breaking the kiss, trailing her fingertips lower and making a path down Amy’s neck and back. She pulled Amy’s body closer, wanting nothing more than to get lost in every inch.

  “Damn,” Amy said after a moment, her lips still dangerously close to Dominique’s. “That was everything I thought it would be and so much more.”

  “Yeah.” Dominique couldn’t form all of the words she needed in the moment, so she just nodded.

  Amy shimmied her shoulders seductively. “How about another dare?”

  Dominique gripped the log beneath her and found her breath. “I want to. I really want to, but I think it would be best if we took this slow—at least for now.”

  “I can do slow,” Amy said. Her shoulders slumped slightly, and just as quickly she righted them. “Actually, I appreciate slow. Thank you.” Before Dominique could respond, Amy’s lips were on hers again. “This is slow. We’ll only do this,” Amy said between kisses. “Only this.”

  Caught somewhere between wanting to give in and standing firm, Dominique agreed. “Only this.”

  * * *

  Surrounded by plush pillows, Amelia sighed contentedly and snuggled herself deeper into the comfort. The previous night’s events swirled through her head, set to music, playing forth like a music video of her favorite sensual songs. She grabbed the pillow beside her and pulled it close, wishing she had the opportunity of waking next to Dominique, seeing if those big, brown eyes shimmered in the early morning light the way they did after dark.

  Moving her body against the pillow, she positioned her head to smell her shirt, where scents of Dominique’s perfume still lingered.

  Amelia wanted her badly, longed for her. She let out a moan and continued to grind. Drifting back to the way it had felt to kiss Dominique, she gave in to her imagination and let the feeling cascade across her lips again.

  Going slow was agonizing. She wanted, needed, more. Reaching for her bedside table, she quickly threw open the first drawer and pulled out her vibrator. If this was going to take so long, she was taking matters into her own hands. Her body trembled with need and, despite the wetness increasing between her legs, she rubbed lube up and down the shaft. What she needed wasn’t going to be slow and steady enough to justify not using extra lubricant.

  She bit her lip as she brought the toy closer and closed her eyes. With her free hand, she softly caressed her upper body, imagining Dominique’s gentle touches. Sliding the vibrator inside herself, she arched her back and let out a loud moan.

  As she moved it in and out of her, she cried out Dominique’s name, and as she came with a crashing wave, she pictured those brown eyes looking into her own.

  Waves of pleasure shot through her body, but she lay still, soaking up every last tingling sensation. If a fantasy was this good, she couldn’t wait for the real thing.

  She heard Dominique’s voice in her head reminding her to be patient, and she let out a sigh. She would be patient, but she wasn’t sure if she could tame her imagination after what she had just experienced.

  Chapter Ten

  The fluorescent lights made whirring sounds above his head and everything was calm—at least for a moment. Clayton Turner downed the last bit of coffee and crunched the Styrofoam cup in his fist. He grimaced, noticing the grinds in his teeth. Cheap coffee, the same type they always had. Glancing down, he tucked in his polo and adjusted his badge.

  FBI. He ran his fingers over the letters, still wondering how he had made it this far. It had all been a pipe dream, and now he was actually doing it. His first case had been a breeze, but this second one was turning out to be the case. Clayton pitched his coffee cup into the wastebasket and rubbed his hands together nervously. Since he’d only been called in for the minor league stuff—the repeated interrogations and fact-building—he wanted to do his best so he could get a chance to stay on the case.

  It had been quite the process, interviewing everyone around town and piecing the puzzle together. But he was ready for something bigger. There was an answer, and he knew it waited in that room.

  He thought back to the email he had received this morning, reminding everyone on the case to continue looking for answers. It had made him just as angry then as it did now. They had the answers. They had evidence. They had motive. Trent Westwick deserved to be behind bars, but he knew as well as the rest of them did that Mayor Westwick was going to run them all ragged looking for any other answer. He balled his left hand into a fist and brought it crashing down on the wall in front of him. Only a couple of passersby even bothered to look up. He shook his head in disgust. His outburst wasn’t new with the frustration they were all experiencing.

  The rules of the good ol’ boys’ club weren’t going to fly today. Today he was going to demand answers and get this case closed.

  He narrowed his
eyes at the tall man sitting in the interrogation room. Trent’s jaw was wide and jutted out, but his face had grown thinner. His shoulders slumped, and his blond hair was wild and unkempt.

  Jail had not been kind to the kid, but with his name and his alibi, Clayton knew Trent could have handled this in a smarter fashion. He might just get away with it if he learned to stop changing his story.

  “Going back in there today, Clay?” Stella Washington, a senior agent asked, nodding at him as she walked through the hallway.

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said with a broad smile. “I have a hunch. I’m going to get him to tell me something that matters. It’s about damn time too.”

  “Good luck, kid,” she called back as she rounded the corner. He caught sight of her shaking her head before she disappeared into the adjacent hallway. Taking a deep breath, he straightened his shoulders.

  Practically strutting in stubbornness, he cleared his throat and opened the door to the tiny, barren room. “They said you were ready to talk to us,” Clayton said, taking his seat across from Trent.

  “They sent you again?” Trent rolled his eyes and turned to stare at the wall.

  “What is it you have to say today?” Clayton ignored Trent’s question and pressed onward. “And why did you opt to have this discussion without your lawyer?” Trent narrowed his eyes. “You know, that’s not too smart, kid. But I’m happy to talk to you, so lay it on me. Why are we here?”

  “I just wanted to be out of my cell.” Trent shrugged. “I don’t belong in here anyway.”

  “You have a pretty solid case against you, so I wouldn’t be throwing out too much lip. I’m sure they’ve already told you as much. Let’s just talk about that night.”

  “They don’t have anything,” Trent said, moving his shoulders back as much as possible with his wrists cuffed to the table. “They can’t, because I was never there.”

  “Who do you suppose was, then?” Clayton raised an eyebrow and leaned forward, intensifying eye contact. “Who do you think was there that would have done this, aside from you?”