Her Hometown Girl

by Lorelie Brown

  I feel her orgasm start in the way her legs shake. Her grip on my shoulder holds tighter. I drop into a smooth rhythm between the licking and the way I’m taking her with my fingers. Point and counterpoint. Her quiet moans get louder.

  “Fuck,” she mutters. “Motherfucker, gonna be hard. Don’t stop. Don’t stop.”

  The order turns into a chant. I wouldn’t dream of stopping, not now. Not when I have her here, balanced above me and it’s trust for both of us. I lick and lick. Thrust my tongue against her body as if it’s part of my soul. I can’t give her more than this, so I’ll give her everything this is.

  She closes her hands across the back of my skull. My hair is woven through her fingers, which pull and tug. The pinch hurts and soothes. I shore up one of her legs by wedging my shoulder against her. She shudders in a body-wracking way.

  “There. Fuck. Fuck!”

  She’s coming. Her girl juices paint my chin and my cheeks. A drop rolls down my neck, and I mourn its loss. I drink her deep as quickly as I can. This is sweeter than what she’d given me before. I lap away every last bit.

  I’m cleaning her with my mouth when I realize she’s petting my temples and cheeks and cooing sweet words at me. “My little one. I can’t even. That was so much. So beautiful.”

  I had no shame when I was buried mouth-deep in her body, but for some reason hearing such niceness makes me die in the best kind of way. “Shush.”

  “It’s so true.” Her hands float over me like happy birds. “You’re an angel to me. You’re too good to me.”

  I shake my head because I have no words.

  “I didn’t even give you a towel to kneel on.”

  “I liked it,” I whisper.

  “What’s that?”

  I clear my throat, but I can’t make myself look up at her, so I settle for her navel. It’s shallow. I ring it with a fingertip, then realize the finger’s still damp from Cai. I pop it in my mouth, not wanting to lose even a speck of her taste. “I liked not having padding.”

  A smile takes over her pleasure-soft mouth. “Who’d have thought such a wicked girl was hiding inside the angelic elementary school teacher.”

  Me. I knew. I’ve wanted something different and bigger. Maybe this is it. This thing I have with Cai is what I was looking for when I wandered into her shop to get a tattoo. “You’re the one who inked me.”

  “I am. Maybe you need more. But later. Right now, feel what you’ve done to me.”

  She takes my hand and guides it to her pussy, and she’s wet and I jerk back so hard that my knees go up. I accidentally catch the back of her knee and have to grab for the floor behind me to avoid falling. Cai’s hand flies out and smacks flat against the wall. The echo is loud in the room that suddenly feels startlingly small.

  “Sorry!” I yelp. “Sorry, sorry.”

  “What?” She’s confused. Of course she is. I’m an idiot. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine. I’m sorry.”

  “No, no, you’re fine.” She reaches for me again, and I flinch.

  As if it’ll make this situation any more sane, I push to my feet and dust off my butt. I’m still nearly naked. I still have traces of Cai’s taste on my lips. I paste a giant smile on. Nothing about this is fooling Cai. “What do you want to do now?”

  She narrows her eyes. Her hair is still damp. It hangs heavily about her face. She shoves a lock back behind her ear. “If there’s something wrong, you can tell me.”

  I can’t. Not because of anything about her, but because the words have claws that lodge in my throat and stay there. I don’t even think them, which leaves me no way to speak them. “I’m fine. It’s fine.”

  “If I crossed a line …”

  It pushes through my haze. “No, you didn’t.” I move close enough that I’m back in Cai’s sphere. My hands find the softness of her waist, the gentle padding below her belly button. “You were perfect. That was perfect.”

  She’s watching me, but at the same time I can feel her willingness to believe me in the way her shoulders loosen and her spine softens. Her hips drift toward me. “That most certainly was perfect.”

  The last thing in the world I want is to ruin what just happened. If I have even the least little bit of control over myself, I’m not delving into the past. “Thank you,” I say instead.

  “No, Jesus Christ, thank you.” She laughs, and at last I can smile. Her happiness is infectious.

  I lay my head on her shoulder and wrap my arms around her waist. This is safety. I don’t know how I got here, not really. Some miraculous set of coincidences, but however it happened, I don’t want to leave.

  Maybe not ever.

  Cai

  There’s something going on here that I don’t understand. I rub Tansy’s back and wonder if she realizes she’s trembling like she’s the one who just had a world-changing orgasm. I don’t think it’s from a good source though. Not with the way she’s hiding against me. She’s caught in a web.

  I didn’t like Jody when I met her, and if possible, I like her even less now. This fragility is her fault. I’m sure of it.

  I just don’t know what to do about it.

  “Let’s go to your bedroom.”

  She nods, takes my hand, and leads me back the way we came in. This feels like an abnormal quiet, the kind of silence that isn’t usual to cheery, happy Tansy. Unless this is the real her and what I’ve known before was an act? It’s hard to parse the difference between truth and the pretty face people put on in the first flush of a new relationship. Sometimes I don’t want to figure it out—but Tansy is different.

  All of Tansy is different. It’s not that she’s fragile, it’s that she keeps trying anyway. Keeps moving up.

  I get more of a look around her room this time. Enough boxes line the north wall that it looks like a kid’s fort. The bed is enormous and probably came with the room. Seafoam-green bed hangings draped from the tall posts coordinate with the darker gray-green walls. Piled on the nightstand is a stack of novels with cracked spines. On top of the stack is a coffee cup with a glittery unicorn pooping a rainbow.

  Tansy makes a run for the side of the bed that’s piled with clothes. She grabs big armfuls and tosses them onto the wing chair in the corner. “Sorry it’s a mess. I haven’t really settled in, and I didn’t really know I’d be having company. I mean, I didn’t really expect this. Us.”

  She waves a hand around the space between us. I catch her fingers, twining mine through hers. Her palm is hot and her skin delicate, but something in the middle of her palm catches my attention. I turn her hand upward and skim a touch over the center. “What’s this?”

  “Bunch of paper cuts.” Her fingers twitch as if she’s trying to yank away, but then she stills. She takes a deep breath. “From this morning. I was stacking supplies for the kids’ project.”

  “I didn’t know teaching was a dangerous job.”

  She pouts a little bit. “You don’t have to mock me.”

  My eyebrows fly up. I dip my knees, trying to look at her expression. She seems serious. “I wasn’t. I didn’t mean to.”

  “Oh.” Her pout doesn’t go away though.

  I cup her cheek and lay my thumb over that softened bottom lip. “What’s going on with you?”

  “I don’t know. I’m a mess.” She covers her face, her shoulders curling in. “I’m sorry. Ugh.”

  “Stop it.” I peel her hands away, use them both to pull her closer to me. “You’re in your head, aren’t you? Thinking about something else?” Or someone else.

  “I don’t want to.” Her eyes are huge. It almost seems like she’s two breaths from crying again, which is such a switch from where we were moments ago. My brain is still hazed in afterglow, but she needs me. “I don’t want to think about anything but you.”

  I sit on the edge of the bed, my feet on the floor. “Come here.”

  She comes close enough that our knees nudge and her toes stack on mine. “Will you make me feel good?” Her words come out in a whis
per.

  “I hope so.” Christ, I really fucking hope so. I’m going to feel like a pile of shit if I fail her, especially after how good she made me feel.

  I haul her into my lap so that she’s sitting sideways. She folds around me, her head resting on my shoulder and her knees along my ribs. I wrap an arm around her back and tuck my other hand under her thigh. I pet her back and legs, running my fingers up and down in soft and gentle circles. She sighs and eases into my hold.

  “I like the way you feel in my lap, little one.” I speak the words into the cloud of her hair.

  “I like it too.” But then she opens her mouth over my neck and I get a sharp nip.

  I pinch her neck and pull her back. “Don’t be bad.”

  She’s smirking a little. “Make me?”

  “Are you a baby girl? A brat?”

  A wrinkle twists her pale brows. “I don’t know. Maybe? Tell me what you mean?”

  “Daddy doms and little girls are a certain kind of thing. A way some people play tops and bottoms.” I gentle the hold I have on the back of her neck but don’t let her go completely. “I’m starting to think you’ve got some of that.”

  She bites her bottom lip. Pink flushes her mouth. “But that would make you my daddy? You are most certainly not a boy. How does that still work?”

  I shrug and go back to petting her leg. She leans into me again, a little bit of her tension leaving with every breath. “It works however the fuck we want to define it. Maybe it just means I like taking care of my little girl.” She shudders hard enough that her hip grinds against my pussy. “Oh, someone liked that, didn’t she?”

  She nods frantically. “Wow, yeah. I did. Can we do that? Try that?”

  “We already are,” I say, and then I kiss her so deeply that her head bends and she arches over the arm I have around her back.

  She’s beautiful and wrapped tighter than a spring. I drag my teeth down her neck. The tendons there stand in stark relief under her pale skin. At her collarbone, I trade teeth for tongue and follow the curved arch.

  “You’re so pretty, little one,” I mutter against her.

  She holds my shoulder. Her noises are a series of squeaks and breathy sighs, especially when I push her bra down enough to make a shelf for her tits. I suck the tip of her breast into my mouth and start with only tongue and lips against the tight bead of her nipple. The areola surrounding is nubbly when I circle. I drink deep of her flesh and my reward is more of those welcome sounds.

  The whole time, I keep up my gentle touching of her thighs. I want her used to me and on edge at the same time. “You squirm as if it’s your first time.”

  “I’ll try to stop,” she says on panting breaths.

  “Don’t you fucking dare,” I growl. “I like it.”

  That earns me a sound perilously close to a mewl. I laugh, but I’m sure it sounds like I’m strangling at the same time, because I practically am. I can’t resist anymore. I delve between her legs and stroke the front of her panties.

  She parts her legs for me. Her knees separate, and her foot scrabbles for purchase in the pillowy duvet. She’s panting, and I can see why when the thin cotton instantly soaks through with her wetness.

  “Good girl,” I tell her. “You’ve been so patient, and you made me feel so good.”

  “I’m so glad.”

  Her bottom lip is wet. I take it in a kiss. My mouth owns her just as deeply as can be. I lick her lip into my mouth and suckle. She is so fucking pliable and receptive. I kiss her deeper, then deeper still, pressing into her mouth.

  Her fingers dig and release on my shoulder. She’s like a kitten who’s found something soft to hold on to. I don’t feel very damn soft though. Not with how hot and ready her pussy is.

  I skim over her flat stomach and push under her panties. I could take them off, but for some reason I don’t want to. Maybe because it feels filthier to be delving inside them like this, as if she’s giving up something that maybe she doesn’t want to. Like I’m taking. Combined with her pushed-down bra and the way her straps dangle around her shoulders, she looks completely demolished.

  I’ve done this to her. And I’m going to do more.

  I pet her outer lips, then stroke inside. Wetness makes everything slip and slide, but I manage to catch hold of her inner lips and pinch them together. She gasps, her eyes going wide.

  “More of that, please,” she says. Her voice is raspy and raw. “I like that.”

  “Like this?” I experiment with how tight I pinch, how fast, the pulsing between. “Which do you like best?”

  “All of it. Oh, all of it.” She’s lifting her hips into everything I do.

  “Then maybe I should play with your pretty little clit instead.”

  “Okay,” she squeaks.

  I hide my laugh because I don’t think she’d take it in the spirit intended right now. She’s so cute I could die of it. Instead I stroke the tight bit of flesh at the top of her pussy and pour my determination into it. She’s writhing practically, and I love it.

  She chants my name as she gets closer and closer to the edge. I lick and bite her neck. A smattering of freckles dot the landscape of her upper chest. I try to catch each one with my teeth. She’s quaking. I rub her just a little bit harder.

  It’s enough. She cracks open into a cry. Her head thrown back, every muscle she has pulls tight. The curve of her stomach becomes a stiff board. Her thighs clench hard around my hand as if she’s afraid I’ll pull away.

  I wouldn’t dream of it. I ride out her orgasm with pleasure, making my touches softer and gentler with every twitch of her hips. I’m telling her how perfect she is, the sweetness of her skin, the way she’s made of clouds and fucking moonbeams. The words spill from my mouth and across her body, and I hope she catches each one. I hope she soaks them up, because I hardly know what I’m saying and if I can ever repeat them.

  She comes down slowly, but not even as slowly as I’d like. I want her to ride this train as long as she possibly can. But it’s only minutes before her head rests against my shoulder. She’s warm, and the places where our skin meets are sticky with heat and sweat. I push her hair back from her face.

  “How are you?”

  “Good,” she says in a drowsy tone.

  “Here, let’s tuck you in.” I shuffle us around until she’s lying flat on her bed.

  She blinks slowly, and her lashes barely come up again. Her lids are sleepy and heavy. “But I’m not tired.” She rubs her eyes with the side of her hand.

  “I can see that.” I hide my grin and line myself up beside her. I throw a leg over both of hers. “Just be still for a little while.”

  “Kay.” Her breathing is shallow and rapid, but she seems to be quickly dropping off into sleep anyways. I unsnap her bra and ease it down from its awkward position so it won’t hurt her. She works with me but doesn’t open her eyes. Then she shifts onto her side, catching my hand as she goes and hooking my arm around her waist.

  I’m pulled into spooning her. Not that I try very hard to get away. She’s made of softness. I let her curls cover my face. She smells like cotton candy and something warm that’s got to be exclusively her. I breathe deep. Let the moment spill into the quiet of contentment. Cars occasionally drive by outside, but they’re far enough away that they only add to the hum of the city. In the next room, her cat meows. I wonder if it’ll come out and visit.

  Our breathing nearly echoes in the empty, unlived in space that surrounds us. This is the world that Tansy is floating in. A great gray between. I want to give her more than this, and I want to run away at the same time. This is a life I don’t belong in. This is a room that’s too big and grand, and this isn’t how a one-bedroom crash pad is supposed to look. It’s decorated with style and grace. The Lowenstein family took Tansy in and offered her an apartment that thousands of Angelenos would kill for. I wonder if she even realizes the level of privilege involved. When I was twenty-one, I left a girlfriend on two days’ notice. I ended up sleeping on th
e floor of a friend’s apartment, wrapped in a sleeping bag with a broken zipper for three and a half weeks.

  Tansy ended up in an apartment with a bathroom decorated like a spa. We’re worlds apart, and I should leave her here in this pretty world she gets.

  But I keep holding her. I don’t go away.

  I don’t know if I can. Not now, at least.

  Not this moment. Not with the dreams I can taste on the tip of my tongue.

  Tansy

  I come up from sleep fighting. Hands flailing, stomach tight, I ratchet up into a seated position. I’m gasping. Air is thick, and I’m in the dark, and my hand lands on something soft like flesh. I fly out of the bed.

  “Chill, chill,” says a voice I recognize.

  “Cai?”

  “It’s me. I’m right here. It’s just dark.”

  I wrap my arms around myself. She’d been pressed against me, and I didn’t know who it was. “Did I hurt you? I’m sorry.”

  “I’m fine. Are you?”

  My eyes are starting to adjust to the dark. She’s reaching for me. I want to reach back, but for a long second, I can’t make myself move. I’m in a different dark. Gyoza twines around my ankles. She’s sleek and soft, a reassurance that I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.

  I catch Cai’s hand and let her pull me down to the bed.

  The small of my back is cold with sweat. I swallow down my fear and try to pretend there’s nothing wrong with me.

  I wish there was nothing wrong with me.

  “I’m fine.” I’m stiff as a board. I lie flat, but my shoulders are pulling up toward my ears. I try to take a deep breath, but I’m also trying to keep Cai from noticing, and it’s so awkward. Since I’ve been in this apartment, I’ve been falling asleep with my iPad playing TV shows I’ve already seen. If I wake up in the middle of the night, it’s a comforting glow and familiar voices. It’s really dark tonight. There must not be any moon out. “I have to work tomorrow. It’s a school day.”

  There’s a long pause that I don’t know how to fill. “Do you want me to go?”

  “No, but I’m just warning you. I get up at like five.”