by V. K. Powell
The sparks of attraction that shot up Syd’s arm and weakened her knees made her forget last night’s incident and its aftermath. “Huh?” Great. She was rendered monosyllabic.
“Your side, the injury?”
“Oh, it’s fine, a flesh wound really. It was just my luck, again, that my vest was useless.” Regan’s look told her that she didn’t understand. “Our flack jackets are basically two panels, front and back, no sides. This is the third time I’ve been injured in an area not protected.”
“The third time?”
“Yeah. My abdomen and sides look like I’ve been used as the target dummy for a weapons course.”
“What happened?” Regan asked, then remembered the last time she’d asked Syd to recount such an incident. “If you don’t mind saying.”
She listened in silence as Syd recounted the call that resulted in her injury and how she’d rescued a young man from an abusive home environment. Regan sniffed and coughed to conceal her tears until it became pointless and then let them fall freely. As Syd talked, Regan sensed a change in her. Something had shifted as a result of her experience, but she couldn’t put her finger on what.
Izzy finished lacing up her black combat boots and said, “Honey, maybe you need to look for another line of work.” She executed a slow turn, and asked, “Well?”
“You rock,” Syd said.
Regan wiped her eyes and nodded. “To die for.”
Izzy gave them each a parting hug. “Sorry you girls can’t join me, but I’m sure you’ll find something to keep yourselves busy. Besides, I might have company later and you need to be gone. Love you both.”
She winked and left, with Syd and Regan yelling after her in unison, “TMI.”
The small room seemed terribly quiet and entirely too intimate once the door swung shut. Regan looked at Syd and could’ve sworn the air around her crackled with sexual energy. She’d never wanted so desperately to kiss a woman and ravish her body as she did at that moment. Syd’s emerald green eyes bored a path deep into her soul, igniting the yearning she’d fought hard to extinguish. Watching Syd with Izzy had only confirmed the tenderness and compassion Regan knew existed under her bravado. That knowledge unleashed a flood of arousal that rendered her weak. Syd moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue, and before Regan could stop herself, she was within inches of Syd, breathing in her musky fragrance.
“Can we—” Regan narrowly avoided completing the sentence the way she’d intended, with have sex, and substituted, “talk?”
“I’d like that because I really want to apologize.”
“It’s not necessary.” Thinking about Syd day after day and being unable to control her urges had taken a toll. Struggling not to fondle her now was like trying to cage the wind, and she saw no reason to do so. If Syd only wanted sex, that was fine. Regan understood and accepted the boundaries. She just needed Syd prone and naked so she could feel the exquisite release that came from complete physical immersion. At a time like this words seemed so wasteful of air better spent on moans, sighs, and heavy breathing.
“I’m sorry…about the note and leaving you that way.”
Syd’s eyes held a level of sincerity Regan hadn’t seen before, but her physical needs were interfering with her mental faculties and she couldn’t verbally respond. Instead she took Syd’s hands in hers and kissed the underside of her wrists. After each kiss, she trailed her tongue to Syd’s palm and licked tiny circles on her skin.
“I need you again.”
Surprise sparked in Syd’s eyes but quickly blossomed into lust. “Let’s go to my place.”
As they walked out of Izzy’s room and exited the building, Regan asked, “Will your side be okay?”
“You don’t think I’m going to let a little thing like a gunshot wound stop me from making love with you, do you?”
“I really hope not.” Regan almost exhaled her response after holding her breath in fear that Syd’s injury might keep them apart even longer. She noted with interest Syd’s reference to their making love instead of having sex. Semantics weren’t important at this point as long as the hunger in her body was soon fed. But the words soothed a raw place in her.
The walk to Syd’s loft seemed to take forever. Each step Regan took hardened the pulse point between her legs as she watched Syd’s tight ass sway in fitted capri pants that caressed the shapeliness of her hips and thighs. She tried to make small talk but mumbled, imagining her face buried in the voluptuous cleavage peeking from Syd’s ruffle-necked blouse. She’d never been so body-oriented or so certain of what she had to do.
Tonight she would give Syd what she seemed to want from her lovers, dominance and physical pleasure. And tonight Regan would take something she wanted as well, control and physical pleasure. She’d been suppressed and denied by Martha for so long that she’d forgotten what pleased her until her first night with Syd.
When they finally reached the loft, Syd opened the door and waited for her to enter. The moment they were inside, Regan backed her against the wall with a series of kisses intended to relay her objective. Syd’s lips were soft, hot, and joined perfectly with hers, parting just enough to allow her tongue access. She slid into her slowly at first, tenderly exploring the sleek surfaces of her teeth, the ridges in the roof of her mouth, and the grainy texture of her tongue. Syd’s fingers twisted into the short hair at the nape of Regan’s neck, and she brought their mouths together more forcefully.
Regan’s desire swallowed her in a flash of red. Splaying her hands against the wall on either side of Syd, she seared their bodies together with her heat. Her pelvis seemed to thrust and grind of its own accord, and her painfully hard nipples sought the cushiony softness of Syd’s ample breasts. She felt like a clumsy teenage boy trying to get off for the first time, humping his girl against the bleachers, ready to squirt his premature load at any second. That was not how she wanted this night to be remembered.
She forced herself to back away from Syd, her mouth and body immediately protesting the separation. It felt as though life was being sucked from her as she withdrew. Syd reached for her, her color high, her lips red and waiting, her eyes liquid pools of desire. Regan offered her hand and led her to the sleeping area.
The room looked the same with its king-sized bed and bare windows with the city skyline as embellishment. Ambient light from the street below softly tinted the sheets. But this time Regan would not be offering herself like a dutiful lover. This time she would unbridle herself the way Syd seemed to, liberating her most primal physical urges. She would enjoy Syd as a purely sexual being without the usual voices in her head incessantly whispering of emotion.
Regan had never tried to separate her feelings from the sex act. This was different. Every move had to be intentional, every touch orchestrated to heighten Syd’s arousal while governing her own. Her voice would be the first thing to betray her so she struggled to sound calm and controlled. “Take your clothes off.”
Syd hesitated, her expression uncertain. The request was obviously not what she expected, but she complied, slowly unbuttoning her blouse and letting it fall from her shoulders. The white bra that cupped her generous breasts and the white palm-sized bandage on her left side clashed with her tanned skin. Regan flinched. She couldn’t bear to think about the gaping invasion of her tender flesh. The urge to offer comfort briefly overtook her desire, and then she remembered her purpose and redirected. Stepping behind Syd, she released the hooks of her bra and tossed it aside.
“Touch your breasts for me.” Regan knew she had to limit contact with Syd initially or she’d lose control. Already her body hummed and strained for release.
When Syd grabbed her breasts, her ass bucked into Regan’s pelvis. She pressed back harder, gyrating her hips and groaning with pleasure. “Oh, God, Regan. I need your hands on me.”
Regan’s legs wobbled as blood rushed to her crotch, bringing with it the pain of restraint. She placed her hands on Syd’s hips and guided them roughly against her until she
was on the verge of climax. Then she disengaged from the too-enticing ass and ran a calming hand between her legs. “Keep rubbing your breasts,” she panted over Syd’s shoulder.
Syd tried to reach for her hand. She seemed confused and somewhat hesitant to comply. “But I’d like you to do this.”
Her reluctance seemed out of character. Her performance in the restroom was all about being dominated and possessed, and Regan was giving her what she wanted but not allowing her to direct the encounter. She could easily fall to her knees like any other of Syd’s lap girls and give her exactly what she was begging for, a top she could control, but then Syd would see her need, her weakness. Tonight she would be all about sex.
“Just do it.” She put more authority in her voice than she intended, but stifled the urge to add a softer comment.
Stepping around Syd and facing her just beyond arm’s length, she watched her palm the weight of her breasts and stroke her nipples with her thumbs. The taut extensions of flesh dimpled and puckered, and Regan wanted to suck them into her mouth. But Syd hadn’t waited long enough, and when she had, Regan would make her wait longer. She edged her to the bed and instructed her to lie down on her back. Fully clothed, Regan knelt on the bed between her legs. She unzipped Syd’s slacks and eased them down with seemingly inadvertent strokes.
Each carefully placed touch propelled Syd’s hips to rise as she sought greater contact. “What are you doing to me, Regan?” Her voice was tight with urgency.
Regan was balancing precariously at the edge as well. It took all of her restraint not to answer. She’d had no idea how empowering and exciting sexual dominance could be. No wonder Martha had hoarded it for herself. She trailed her fingers up Syd’s tanned legs to the inside of her thighs and stared in amazement as Syd’s body opened for her. The evidence of her need glistened on the dark triangle of hair.
“Regan, please touch me.”
Regan lowered herself as though she was going to give in to the request. Instead, she blew a light breath across Syd’s clit and pulled back. But her withdrawal had not been as swift as she planned. Syd’s skin was hot to the touch, begging to be cooled. Her center twitched with suppressed energy, offering itself for the ride, and the scent of her arousal drew Regan closer.
She pushed back from the brink just before she surrendered control. Hoping her fractured breathing wouldn’t betray her, she said, “Touch yourself. I want to watch.”
“Regan, please, I need to feel you. Come here.”
It took every ounce of Regan’s restraint not to cave. “Show and tell. What do you want me to do?”
Syd massaged her breasts with one hand as the other glided over the dip of abdomen to her pubic mound. She slid a finger between the moist folds of skin. “I want you to feel this. How hot and wet I am for you.” Her fingers pulled long, slow motions between her legs, and each time she rose to meet them. “I want to feel you inside me. I want to look down and see you tonguing my clit. I want to watch you make me come.”
As Syd fingered herself, thrashing and moaning from her own ministrations, Regan’s body and mind were at war. She wanted to give Syd the pleasure she obviously needed and at the same time satisfy the lustful beast that coiled inside her. But she also wanted to tenderly explore this exquisite body without having to detach herself. She wanted to liberate her emotional desires for this woman, even though she knew the feelings threatened to render her powerless. She wondered why she kept denying herself for the sake of other women. With Martha she’d quashed her sexual needs for the emotional good of the relationship, or so she thought. Now she was smothering her feelings to indulge Syd’s need for gratuitous sex. She’d thought she was doing something different, but she was simply on the flip side of the same old coin. As much as she wanted to believe she could compartmentalize, to do so was a rejection of her very nature.
Syd’s movements had become more animated and her breathing more labored. Her entire body shifted on the bed into a shaft of moonlight. Regan froze, her eyes fixed on Syd’s right side and upper abdomen. Etched across her copper-toned skin were two gnarly white scars, uneven and frighteningly misplaced on such a smooth, feminine surface. She stretched out her hand and slid it delicately over the vile invasions of perfection. “Do they hurt?”
Syd stilled and rose on her elbows, looking into Regan’s eyes. “Not anymore.”
“What happened?” Regan had to know. How had she not seen these before? But she remembered that Syd had remained clothed their first night together, at her request. Her insides bristled with outrage that any human being could inflict such harm on another. She felt a helpless fury that any situation could made a person believe such action was justified.
“Domestic calls. Those two were knives. Missed the vest again, got me.” She leaned forward and cupped Regan’s face. “Thank you for caring, but do we have to talk about this just now? In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m in a pretty bad way here.”
The feelings that Regan had tried so desperately to mask all evening came flooding to the surface. She wanted nothing more than to comfort, nurture, and protect this gorgeous creature, to show her that life was more than all the horror she saw daily. She wanted to express how proud she was of her professionally and of the choices she’d made. But more importantly, she longed to tell Syd that she cared for her and accepted her just the way she was. Syd’s scars coupled with something in her eyes stabbed at Regan’s heart and brought home the fragility of life and the absurdity of pretense and pride.
She eased Syd back on the bed and stretched her body lengthwise beside her, wedging her still-clothed leg between Syd’s hot thighs. Unable to contain her desire to please Syd any longer, to demonstrate with her body what she seemed incapable of saying aloud, she allowed her emotions to engage. Cupping Syd’s butt to bring her closer, she kissed the side of her neck, her ears, her cheek.
“Aren’t you going to get undressed?” Syd’s mumbled words seemed an afterthought to the undulating movements already starting on Regan’s leg.
“Later.” Finally allowing herself permission, Regan kissed those full waiting lips like she and Syd were true lovers too long parted. Her thighs burned and her center clenched spasmodically with the urge for release. She distanced her crotch from Syd’s thigh, denying herself direct contact. Stalling this rush would not last much longer.
She buried her face between Syd’s supple breasts, licking her way around the base. She savored each one like a scoop of ice cream with a rock-candy topping, delighting in the textural changes against her tongue, from yielding flesh to rigid tissue. Syd’s moans as she writhed beneath Regan’s hands and mouth were almost enough to send her over the edge, and she wanted desperately to feel her skin against Syd’s. But she knew the second they were naked together, she would come spontaneously.
Sliding her hand between them and into the moisture that bathed Syd’s sex, she said, “You are so wet.” She separated the tender labia and teased Syd’s erect clit with just enough pressure to elicit a responsive groan.
“For God’s sake, Regan, I can’t take much more.”
“Yes, you can.” Regan eased down the supple body, kissing and nipping moist tender skin as she descended, careful to avoid the fresh bandage that clung to her left side. She tongued her way past Syd’s navel to her thighs and rested her face on the bedclothes between them.
Syd’s neatly trimmed bush was awash with her fragrant juices. Regan allowed herself a few seconds of appreciation before permitting contact. Controlling her own orgasm at this stage would be extremely difficult. Drawing a shaky breath, she licked the sides of Syd’s thighs and kissed a path to her sex, tending the swollen lips surrounding her clit. Syd rewarded her efforts with forward thrusts and sharp cries for more. Regan scooted lower and placed a hand between her own legs to stay the gathering sensations. Squeezing fabric and flesh together, she concentrated on Syd, letting her tongue dart back and forth across Syd’s rigid pleasure point.
With each stroke they both seemed to tum
ble closer to the edge. Regan’s clit throbbed painfully in her grip and moisture soaked her jeans as she tried to halt her pending orgasm. Syd clutched Regan’s hair in her fists and held her firmly in place as she rode her tongue toward climax. Her breathing mingled with indecipherable phrases and finally exploded into words.
“Regan, I’m coming, Regan.”
Regan greedily consumed the combination of sweet and salt that flowed from Syd’s climaxing body, each lick and suck bringing her closer to her own end. She wanted to remember forever the telltales of Sydney Cabot’s body as she came screaming her name. It would take a lifetime to expel the knowledge of Syd’s reactions to her touch: breasts pliant in her hands, nipples rigid from her sucking, pelvis rising to meet the thrust of her tongue and crashing at its loss. Regan drew back to watch the expressions on Syd’s face evolve from a concentrated near frown to anticipation, to joy, and finally that look of never-ending hunger in her eyes as she climaxed. Regan memorized every nuance, certain that no woman would ever scream her name so perfectly in the throes of orgasm.
Syd’s gaze held hers and seemed to claw its way inside, searching for answers to the responses of her body. As Syd continued to buck and quiver beneath her, Regan gave herself permission to finally let go. She released the constricting grasp on her distended tissue and allowed it to purge. The tightly coiled bundle of nerves detonated instantly, and Regan bit her tongue to stop a scream that threatened to alert the neighborhood of their activities. Her body jerked and shuddered with a series of explosions so profound she thought they would alter her forever. Gasping, almost passing out, she collapsed between Syd’s legs.
Regan couldn’t move or speak. Time passed as the aftershocks faded and her heart rate slowed. She didn’t open her eyes or stretch out her hand. At that moment, more than anything, she wanted to hug Syd and wallow in the physical connection they shared. She wanted to tell her how she felt and to describe in explicit detail everything she planned to do to her body next. But a strange panic gripped her, bringing with it all her doubts and fears. The voices in her head insisted that Sydney Cabot didn’t do next. It was an anomaly that they’d slept together twice. The chance of a third time was practically nonexistent. Syd had apologized for that note and for her behavior, but she hadn’t said anything about wanting a future. She wasn’t sorry about the basis of their encounter, only the manner in which she ended it. Normally, Regan decided, she was better at hiding her indifference.