by Radclyffe
Cam pushed back against the couch, her neck arched, her hands fisted by her sides. "I'm ready -- do that again - to divulge -- ah, yes - right there - State secrets." She found Blair's face with one hand, moved her fingers into her hair, pulled her closer. "Suck me," she gasped, her voice cracking with need.
Blair held off another second, but not without effort. She was shaking. "God," she whispered, "I want to taste you."
When Blair finally circled her with her lips, Cam jerked, her fingers convulsing in Blair's hair. She clamped her jaws down on a moan and tried to think of anything except the waves of pleasure coursing down her legs, up her spine, through her guts. She wanted it never to end. She pushed against Blair's mouth, dimly aware that she might bruise her, trying not to press too hard. But she couldn't stop, couldn't get enough air, couldn't hold it back. "Blair-" she cried, lifting off the couch as her legs stiffened, pounded by the fury of the orgasm whipping through her.
Before Cam regained her bearings, Blair was in her arms, straddling her thigh, rocking hard on her leg, her face pressed to Cam's neck.
"You make me burn," Blair moaned, clutching Cam as she climbed frantically to her peak. "You make me -ooh-"
Her words were lost in a strangled cry and all Cam could do was hold onto her, embracing her securely while she took her pleasure.
The limousine pulled to a stop on the edge of the green in Prospect Park. Cam shuddered faintly, her dark eyes liquid with unspoken emotion. She struggled to keep her voice steady as she said, "I'm not interested in being distracted."
"That's your problem, Commander," Blair said softly, seeing the arousal Cam couldn't successfully hide. "Not mine."
As she slid across the seat toward the door, she ran her hand down the length of Cam's thigh. She smiled to herself as Cam gasped sharply. "I told you once your body never lies."
Chapter Fifteen
Prospect Park, the starting point for the race, was slightly more than half the size of Manhattan's eight hundred acre Central Park, but it nevertheless housed a wildlife center, a music pagoda, a lake, and many other opportunities for city dwellers to escape the urban stresses for a few hours. The area of Brooklyn around the park was a study in contrasts. The west side was bordered by Park Slope, a conclave of historic brownstones housing the wealthy and privileged. The eastern extent of the sprawling park abutted Crown Heights and Bedford-Stuyvesant, areas that in recent years had become dangerous territory for tourists and inhabitants alike. At seven AM on a Sunday morning, there were usually a few early morning enthusiasts enjoying the opportunity to run or rollerblade in relative solitude. Such was not the case today.
Long Meadow, an open, rolling ninety acre section nearly a mile in length was already bustling with people. The Race for the Cure drew greater numbers of supporters than almost any similar event, because the disease itself affected so many. It was a media event as much as anything else, especially with Blair as the keynote speaker, and photographers and news vans were already present in abundant numbers.
Cam stood next to Blair by the side of the car, scanning the hundreds of participants gathering for the start of the run. "It's going to be very crowded along the entire route, especially when we get into Central Park. I'd appreciate it if you'd not lose us."
Blair met Cam's eyes, and for the first time in a long time, she couldn't read the expression in them. Even though they had been physically separated since Cam's return, she had at least had the comfort of seeing what was behind her professional facade when she looked into her dark eyes. This new barrier stung. "You're very good at your job, Commander. I'm sure you'll manage somehow."
Blair abruptly turned and walked off toward the area where the race organizers had set up information booths. Stark and Savard were approaching from the second vehicle, and Cam signaled the two women to accompany Blair while she radioed Mac for his position.
"Do you have the commanders of the other teams there?" she asked without preamble, watching Blair disappear into the crowd of men and women clustered around the long registration tables. It bothered her that Blair was out of her visual range, and it occurred to her that it might be less a security issue than the fact that she couldn't see who she was with.Terrific.
"I'll be right there," she snapped into her mike. Her lapse in concentration on the ride over had left her unsettled. So did the simmering remnants of desire. She ignored the physical annoyance with effort and checked Blair's position again.
Across the wide field, Blair stood talking to a number of people, Diane Bleeker among them. Cam resisted the urge to scan the faces nearby for the very handsome Doctor Coleman. She assured herself that Stark and Savard were well positioned, and walked over to join Mac and the other security chiefs.
*
It was hot and sunny and, surprisingly for August, without the heavy humidity that often blanketed the city in late summer. After greeting the appropriate people and allowing the media their few minutes of photo-ops, Blair found a quiet corner in the shade to stretch, preparing for the run. As she leaned over, legs braced, stretching her hamstrings, Diane's familiar voice remarked from beside her, "I see you've brought along a new addition. A very nice one, too."
Blair shifted to look up at Diane. She didn't have to ask whom she meant. She had seen her friend's face light up with an appreciative and frankly appraising expression when Savard had come into view a few minutes before. "That would be the FBI's contribution to my team."
Diane reclined on the grass next to Blair and began to lean forward, touching her toes effortlessly. "What's going on?" she asked casually, moving smoothly into a yoga pose.
Blair sat beside her, reaching for one ankle and crossing it over the opposite knee, rotating her torso as she said, "Nothing."
"Blair, friend - just how dumb do the you think I am?" Diane asked calmly, breathing deeply in the proscribed ujjay manner. "First Roberts makes a surprise appearance, and now you've got the FBI following you around. That means something."
Blair turned over and pushed off ten fast fingertip push-ups in perfect form. Returning to the sitting position, she said, "Just routine." Somehow talking about it made it much too real. She didn't want this in her life. Except for her first tentative discussions with her friend AJ at the Bureau, she hadn't told any of her acquaintances. She had intentionally avoided briefings with the FBI. The only thing she wanted to know from them was that they had caught him.
Diane folded both legs into a full lotus position and slipped one arm behind her back, twisting slowly in the opposite direction. "Believe it or not, I can keep a secret if I need to. Besides, my feelings will be hurt if I'm the last to find out and I miss all the fun."
Blair snorted in disgust. "Believe me, if you think this is a treat, you can take my place any day."
She rose quickly and began to alternately lift each leg to her chest in rapid succession. She looked across the gathering crowd and easily picked out Cam where she stood talking with several officious-looking individuals. There was nothing flashy or showy about her, but she stood out from the others. The air around her seemed charged. It was amazing - and frightening.
Diane studied Blair's face as she followed her gaze. "She's gotten to you, hasn't she?" Diane said softly.
"Oh, yeah," Blair said without thinking. She looked away, shrugging. "She's back because my father wanted her here. I've been getting a little more fan mail than usual, and you know how seriously these people take those things. It's nothing, really."
Diane nodded, knowing there was more but willing to wait for the details. Eventually, she'd get the rest out of her. She rose to stand beside her, waving to a familiar figure drawing near. "Marcy's been asking about you."
Blair looked at her, an eyebrow raised in question. "Is that so?"
"Yes," Diane said, grabbing them each a water bottle from a nearby table. "She wants to know how available you might be."
"Then she should ask me herself," Blair said impatiently. "For God's sake, we're all adults."
&n
bsp; "I think she wants to avoid being shot down. Your signals were a little mixed last weekend at my place," Diane pointed out dryly.
Seeing Marcy's friendly smile, Blair was a little embarrassed to realize she hadn't given the events at Diane's gathering any thought. She had been too rattled the last week by Cam's abrupt reappearance and the emotional chaos that followed to give anything, oranyone, else much thought. It hadn't occurred to her that Marcy Coleman might have other ideas, but, recalling what had happened, she supposed it should have.
It had all started after Cam left the party.
Blair watched Cam move through the crowd, murmur something briefly to Ellen Grant, and then walk out the door. She did not look back to where Blair still stood in the shadows on the balcony.
After a moment of foolishly hoping that her security chief might suddenly reappear, Blair rejoined the group in Diane's living room. Lights were turned down low, and couples were dancing. A daring few in secluded corners were carrying on more intimate exchanges.
Dr. Marcy Coleman, a willowy blond in her mid-thirties approached, a smile on her face and a question in her eyes. "I thought you might have left."
"No," Blair said, her mind still on the image of Cam standing outside, alone in the dark, the night wind ruffling her dark hair. Once she had been challenged by Cam's solitude; now she was wounded by it. The change was not a welcome one, and she brushed the reflection from her mind.
"Another dance?" Marcy's asked, lightly taking Blair's hand in hers.
Sure," Blair answered absently. At least it would distract her from the way her body still vibrated from the brief touch of Cam's fingers. So she thought.
She stepped into Marcy's arms, rested her cheek lightly against the other woman's shoulder, and closed her eyes. The music was something slow and sultry -- perfect music to get lost in. She wanted to be lost for a while. Not to think, not to struggle, not to mourn. To want nothing was to never be disappointed.
Marcy's body was sleek and sensuous, and she moved against Blair with practiced intimacy. It had been like this countless times before, with other bodies, other faces. Brief diversions, momentary escape. The act of pleasuring was satisfying in itself, but Blair was careful always to remain in control. Safe, simple, emotionally unencumbered. No promises - justpleasant, mutually satisfyingbiological proceedings.
Marcy pulled her a little closer, rotating her hips slowly, insistently, against her own - a subtle shift of pressure that she almost didn't notice at first. And then something unexpected happened. Without realizing it, without consciously willing it, she was becoming aroused. A year ago, even six months ago, she would never have noticed the fire starting. And even if she had, she would have been able to ignore it. The excitement would have settled in the back of her mind like a pleasant afterthought, untended and unanswered. Now her nerve endings were raw and acutely sensitive.
She was afraid she knew why. Since Cam, something had changed. Something that she had been able to contain for many years had been unleashed. The practiced disconnection she had so carefully constructed between her emotions and her physical self had begun to dissolve with the first touch of Cam's hands.
She knew her breathing had increased, and she felt Marcy's heart beating rapidly against her own. When Marcy cupped her breast as she had done briefly once before that evening, she felt her nipple stiffen against Marcy's hand. She bit her lip to keep back a moan and tried to concentrate on something other than the liquid heat surging between her legs.
Marcy lowered her head, her lips brushing the outer edge of Blair's ear. "You are a great dancer," she said, her voice throaty and slightly breathless. As she spoke, she rubbed her palm very lightly over Blair's nipple.
Blair gasped as a ripple of excitement flickered through her, running down her spine and coiling in her stomach. It was so unusual that it took her completely by surprise, and before she was aware of it, she had parted her legs and pressed harder against Marcy's thigh. The pressure against her swelling clitoris was exquisite and for a moment, she couldn't think of anything at all.
"I'd like very much to be alone with you right now," Marcy continued, deftly directing them closer to the hallway that led back to the guest room in Diane's apartment. "I want to touch you so much it's driving me crazy."
Blair flashed on the last time she had been in that room, and almost instantly, Cam's face, intense and consuming, filled her mind. For a moment, it was Cam's hand on her breast, and Cam's leg between her thighs, and a spasm shuddered through her as her arousal escalated. She stumbled slightly, trembling.
Marcy's arms closed around her. "I don't usually do this sort of thing in other people's houses," she said urgently, "but if I don't do something soon, I'm in danger of exploding."
By now they were in the hallway, alone, and Marcy had maneuvered her up against the wall. She had both hands under Blair's sweater, cupping her breasts, squeezing them as she worked Blair's nipples between her fingers.
Blair pressed her palms flat against the wall, her head tipped back, her eyes closed, struggling to stay upright, verging on orgasm. She wasn't thinking of the woman who touched her now, but of the woman who had done so much more than just touch her body.
"Blair," Marcy whispered.
Not Cam.
"Marcy," Blair groaned, forcing her eyes open, backing away from the edge through sheer willpower. "We -- should -- stop."
Marcy's lips were on Blair's neck, biting her lightly as she pressed harder against her, one hand pushing under the waistband of Blair's pants. "Oh god, I don't want to."
She moved her hand to the triangle between Blair's thighs and squeezed rhythmically. "God, I know how close you are. I can feel it."
Blair pulled away as much as she could, struggling to contain the surging pressure building between her legs, knowing that in a second, she would lose the fight. Dimly she wondered why it mattered, and she did not want to know the answer. "Stop now, please."
Marcy lifted her hands to Blair's waist, holding her but not pushing her any further. She shuddered against Blair, gasping. "I'm sorry. I don't know what happened."
Blair laughed shakily. "Neither do I, but you don't need to apologize."
Marcy leaned back, her eyes still molten with desire, and smiled a little tremulously. "I don't think anyone has ever done that to me before."
Blair laughed, a little stronger this time. "You mean teased you quite so unmercifully? Maybe I should apologize."
Marcy shook her head vehemently, running one finger along the edge of Blair's jaw. "Oh no, don't even think of it. What I meant was, no one has ever made me so hot so fast. No one ever made me lose my mind like that."
Blair stepped sideways enough to put space between them. "I didn't mean to do that. It took me a little by surprise too."
Marcy brushed her shoulder length blond hair back with a still trembling hand. "I think we should go back into the other room. I seem to be dangerous out here."
Blair took her hand in a friendly but not intimate gesture, and laughed. "A very good idea, Dr. Coleman."
"I'd like that to happen again," Marcy said just before they rejoined the others. "Somewhere, some time, when we won't have to stop."
Blair did not look back, and she did not answer.
Blair watched Marcy approach and shrugged again. "I don't think I sent her any kind of message at all. Nothing happened."
"That's not the way she tells it," Diane said off-handedly. "To hear her, you are the answer to a woman's dreams. She appears to be in danger of spontaneous combustion just from being in the same room as you."
"I can't help that," Blair said in irritation. "I can't control what other people fantasize."
Diane nodded, following Blair through the crowd toward the start line. "I absolutely agree, Blair," Diane responded, her tone uncharacteristically serious. "I like her, though. I like you, too."
Blair looked at her directly, a challenge in her eyes. "You have a point here?"
"I thought I did," Diane s
aid. "God knows, I'm the last one to give advice. Just be careful with her. Especially if you know there's no chance."
Blair looked back, and just beyond Marcy, saw Cam. The contrast was striking - one blond, the other dark, sunlight and midnight. Her heart hammering, she said, "I'm not sure of anything anymore."
Chapter Sixteen
Stark glanced over at Savard and grimaced. She hoped her lithe companion, running effortlessly beside her, could not see her struggling to catch her breath.
Running - I hate running. Stupid form of exercise. Terrible for your feet. Murder on your knees. Give me a bike, or better yet - rollerblades.
Savard cast her a sideways look and grinned, a surprisingly charming grin, then called, "Isn't this great?"
"Oh yeah, fabulous! Love it," Stark replied, hoping that she sounded appropriately excited. No way was she going to let the FBI agent think she couldn't keep up. She'd run on bare feet first. Just to prove it, she picked up her pace a little bit.