“Don’t!” Elena cries, almost collapsing against the wall. “Oh, god, please!”
“Sshhh.” Silver spins her around. “I’m not done.” She thumbs away her tears. “Is there somewhere more private we can go to finish this properly?” She tucks Elena’s hair behind her ears, admiring her. “I want to make you feel good.”
Drying her cheeks, Elena fumbles her Authenticard out of her pocket and lets them both into an old storeroom at the end of the corridor. This place is a dumping ground for old beds, old examination chairs, tables, benches, sofas, fake plants, and outdated medical equipment. Some stacks of furniture are piled so high they nearly touch the ceiling, blocking out most of the natural light coming in from the windows.
“Much better.” Silver drops down onto an old dayroom sofa and pats her lap. “Now climb on, Doc.”
Elena clutches the hem of her skirt, hesitating. “Why are you doing this?”
In lieu of an answer—not that she has one to give in any case—Silver leans forward and grabs Elena by the hips.
“No talking.” She yanks her onto the sofa. “Let’s fuck.”
Elena gasps, landing on Silver’s lap with a shudder of excitement. Placing her hands on Silver’s shoulders, she bears her weight on her knees and raises her pelvis, giving Silver unobstructed access to her most private place.
Pouncing on the invite, Silver returns her hand to work between the doctor’s stockinged thighs and starts dropping kisses on her neck and chest, biting and nipping below her ear, leaving faint marks of passion on her alabaster skin.
The only force left in her touch is a firm hand around the back of Elena’s neck, directing her to tilt this way and that, angling her for the peppering of kisses anywhere her skin is free for the touching.
Except her mouth.
Never her mouth.
Eventually, Elena clamps down on Silver’s shoulders. “I’m coming,” she pants breathlessly, riding Silver’s hand ferociously, impaling herself on Silver’s fingers, grunting with every lunge.
“That’s it.” Silver keeps working her, painfully aware that she wants this as much as Elena needs it. “Come for me, Doc.”
With a muted cry, Elena does just that, climaxing hard in Silver’s arms, gushing as shivers of pure, unadulterated ecstasy ripple through her from head to toe.
When it’s over, Silver stays inside her, languidly probing her, soaking up the look of contentment on her face, savoring every contraction of her sex.
“You’re a beautiful woman. You know that?” She pulls her fingers out with a wet pop. “You’re a crazy fucking bitch, but you’re so damn beautiful.”
Elena begins to weep again.
“Why are you crying?” Silver catches the teardrops with her tongue. “You should be in a state of post-orgasmic bliss right now.”
“Why are you being so sweet to me?” Elena pushes her back, suspecting a trick.
“Believe it or not, hurting you gives me no pleasure.” Silver brushes the rest of her tears away. “Besides, I think you do a pretty good job of hurting yourself without any extra help from me.”
Elena traces her fingers over Silver’s lips, her eyes locked on them. She hasn’t been kissed in so many years—not even by her husband, though she counts her blessings for that—and she craves such tender intimacy.
“Will you kiss me?” she asks at last, finally plucking up the courage.
Silver surprises herself.
Out of respect for Ria, and their love for one another, she’d set a few mental limits on how far she wanted to allow this dalliance with Elena to go. Fingering her in her office was a necessary evil: she had to prove a point. Similarly, the somewhat forced oral sex in the white room was a matter of pride: she couldn’t allow Elena to dominate her. But this … this is a gray area already.
What was intended to be a disengaged grope, leaving Elena high and dry and hurting, gagging for satisfying release, got somehow twisted into a fully engaged fuck. It wasn’t about pity; she wanted to make Elena come. And now, in the aftermath of it, she wants to lock lips with her. For all the bullshit and the abuse exchanged between them, the attraction, she realizes, is entirely mutual.
So even though she hadn’t intended to give up her kisses, she finds herself moving toward Elena’s mouth, bumping lips with her.
“You’re not the woman you pretend to be.” She hovers there, within kissing distance, her head tilted, holding back but only slightly. “And I don’t ever want you to forget it.” She closes the gap.
Their mouths meet with a shared moan, Elena’s glossy, cherry red lips pinched between Silver’s bare pink ones. Several seconds later, Elena moans again when she feels the first flicker of Silver’s tongue, triggering her to unleash her pent up passions with a full thirty minutes of erotic tongue-play.
When they finally break for air, Silver stays close, caressing her face. “Is this the first time you’ve been kissed by a woman?”
Elena sways her head from side to side. “There was a girl, a long time ago. I was eighteen, she was fifteen—an inmate here.”
Silver makes a small mental leap. “The procuress? Emmeline?”
Elena nods.
“Why was she committed?”
“She had a distasteful predilection for her own gender.” Elena hates herself for saying it. “She was sent here for … correction.”
Silver’s eyes perform a tumble. “It didn’t work, obviously.”
“It seldom does.”
Elena’s wistful expression causes Silver to speculate that she might’ve been subjected to the same ‘correction’, but she’s disinclined to ask in case it sparks more tears.
“Were you in love with her?” she asks instead, keeping the conversation flowing, but restricted to more neutral territory. “What happened?”
“She was my first and only, but I was young and foolish.” Elena sighs regretfully. “We weren’t careful enough.”
“Someone caught you?”
Elena nods. “I fell asleep in Emma’s bed one night, and one of the orderlies found me there in the morning. We were both stark naked. There was no denying what we did, or what we’d been doing for most of the two years she was locked up here.”
“And you were never together after that?”
“I haven’t seen her since her older brother arrived to discharge her,” she recalls. “Next of kin can do that,” she adds, offering Silver a way out.
“I know. So can you.”
Elena pores over Silver’s face, as if committing it to memory. “If I do, you’ll go back to your beautiful Russian woman?”
“Yes, I will.” Silver won’t lie to her.
Elena nods, understanding. “In that case, may I keep you a little longer?”
“Why?” Silver frowns. “What do you want from me?”
Elena rakes her eyes over Silver’s body, then slips her hands from Silver’s shoulders, sliding down to tentatively cup her breasts, groaning when she feels Silver’s nipples stiffen in response to her touch.
“I want to remember what it feels like to be wrapped in the arms of someone who doesn’t repulse me. Just once.” She continues kneading Silver’s pregnancy-swollen breasts. “I want to feel another woman’s naked body pressed against mine, even if it’s only for one night.”
“Then you’ll let me go?” Silver sounds skeptical.
“I promise.” Elena nods, gliding her hands back up to Silver’s shoulders. “I want to spend one whole night with you, and in the morning, I’ll sign your discharge papers. You’ll never have to see me again.”
Silver mulls that over, her decision coming easily, despite knowing that accepting Elena’s offer means giving up a lot more than a few kisses.
“All right.” She roams her hands over Elena’s waist and hips, the thought of getting her naked hardly cause for any anguish. “When?”
“Give me a few days. I need to have an excuse to spend a night away from home without my husband asking any questions.”
“Oka
y. It’s a deal.” Silver pats Elena’s bum. “Now let’s get out of here.” She looks down at her lap, a large wet patch soaked into her blues where Elena came all over her. “I need a change of clothes. I’m a mess, and I reek of pussy.”
“Sorry.” Elena blushes, clambering to her feet, the shift in position causing a few droplets of honey to trickle down her inner thighs. “It’s been a long time since anyone’s had that effect on me.”
“Oh, I’m not complaining.” Silver grins. “But I might have a hard time explaining myself if I get caught by one of your orderlies.”
They leave the room in relatively good spirits, blissfully unaware that they’ve had an audience. Tucked away by one of the windows, concealed behind mountains of furniture, Doctor Montgomery sits in his secret smoking spot, grating his teeth.
He heard everything.
Alone in her office, Elena slides open the top drawer of her filing cabinet and extracts Silver’s patient records. Dipping a hand into her blouse, she pulls an Authenticard out of her bra, admires it for a few seconds, then clips it to the file.
It’s Silver’s.
Putting everything back in its place, no longer worried that Silver’s going to force her way in and thieve it, Elena takes a seat behind her desk and creeps her hand under her skirt, rubbing her fingertips over her still swollen clit, her knickers drenched.
Tearing off the sodden undergarment, she sits there in silence, lazily exploring herself, reacquainting her fingers with vaginal anatomy. In no particular hurry, she spends time rediscovering all her sensitive spots, inside and out, not caring how lewd she must look with her legs spread wide, her sex splayed open, dripping onto her chair.
It feels good.
It feels really good, but a small ripple of nausea flutters in the pit of her stomach as she thinks about going home to her husband. Today is Friday, which means he’ll come home from the alehouse half-cut, nursing an erection. He’ll clamber clumsily into bed with her, roll her onto her back, and mount her.
She’s usually so dry it takes him several good jabs to get his prick inside her, and it hurts all the way in. All four measly inches of it. He’ll compliment her on being so tight, as always, but little does he know that’s merely her cunt’s way of trying to eject him from her body. Blissfully unaware of her revulsion, he’ll rut on her for a few minutes, grunting with each excruciatingly rough stab into her sex, then he’ll ejaculate inside her.
She grimaces every time, waiting for him to tumble off her so that she can go to the bathroom and clean herself up. Sitting on the toilet, she’ll sob quietly, letting his deposit trickle out of her, and by the time she returns to the bed, he’s snoring.
She wonders if he’ll be suspicious tonight, when he forces himself inside her and finds her unusually and copiously wet. Perhaps he’ll be too drunk to notice. Instead of letting that thought bother her, she closes her eyes and guiltlessly fingers herself to another exquisite orgasm while she fantasizes about Silver.
Spending the night with her.
Fucking her.
Making love to her.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The next few days are filled with flirtatious glances and stolen kisses. Doing her best to make sure the thought of sex stays in the forefront of Elena’s mind, keeping her motivated to arrange a sleepover sooner rather than later, Silver springs on her whenever possible.
Sometimes she’s gentle, sometimes she’s rough—much to Elena’s delight. It thrills her when Silver catches her on her way out of a room and slams her up against a wall, mashing their lips together. She likes her throat grabbed, her arms pinned, her ass smacked, her hair pulled, and Silver finds herself filling the dominant role with greater and greater enthusiasm.
On one occasion, a playful slap across the buttocks in the empty dayroom turns into an impromptu spanking session that lasts a full fifteen minutes. Embracing the part of the naughty girl to Silver’s disciplinarian, Elena bends over a table, her skirt bunched up around her hips, holding on for dear life as Silver strikes her repeatedly with a wooden ruler, leaving pink streaks across her alabaster derrière.
It’s all foreplay. In fact, Silver starts to suspect that this lead-up to their one agreed upon night of passion has a lot less to do with manufacturing an excuse to get away from her husband and much more to do with prolonging these daily interludes.
With increasing frequency, Elena has Silver tease her to the point of climax, toying with her till she can scarcely stand, then she begs her—forces her—to stop. These titillating encounters continue to escalate until, one night, Elena sneaks into Silver’s cell after lights out.
Barefoot, so as not to make a sound, she slips into the room and perches on the edge of the bed, the smell of her perfume filling the air. It invades Silver’s nostrils, arousing her senses, and she takes a moment to drink in Elena’s appearance: a pinstripe skirt and open-collar blouse, the upper swells of her breasts on display. Silver’s never seen her so loose.
“Get on your knees,” Elena demands, hitching her skirt up.
Curious to find out what Elena has in mind, Silver obeys, positioning herself between the doctor’s legs. “What do you want me to do?”
“Play with me.” Elena hooks a leg over Silver’s shoulder. “Anywhere but here.” She cups her underwear-covered sex, running a finger along her crease.
“You’re a cunt tease.” Silver dips her head, burying her face between Elena’s silky thighs. “So cruel.” She nips Elena’s flesh. “So sexy.”
She spends the next twenty minutes there, kissing, licking, and stroking every inch of the peachy skin above Elena’s stockings until the impassioned doctor is trembling with the need to come, her sex flooded, her breathing labored.
The scent of her excitement is so strong and intoxicating that Silver can’t resist pressing her mouth to the damp gusset of her undies—that forbidden place—sucking her clit through the thin fabric, tasting her on the saturated cotton.
It’s not until Elena fists her ponytail and wrenches her face away that she realizes the roles have been reversed: Elena is in charge. She likes to dominate as much as she likes to be dominated, and Silver is seduced by her volatility. She tries to dive back into Elena’s warmth, but the assertive doctor holds her off.
“Stop,” Elena whispers, rubbing the tip of her thumb over Silver’s lower lip, spreading around the dew from her sex. “If I only get to have you once more, then I want it to be perfect.” She pushes the tip of her thumb between Silver’s lips.
Catching on to the word ‘if’, but choosing to ignore it, Silver accepts the digit into her mouth, sucking on every inch. As she rubs the flat of her tongue over the smooth surface of Elena’s thumbnail, she realizes that the long, impractical press-ons are gone. Elena’s nails are still painted, but trimmed short in preparation for intimacy.
“I need to go.” Elena extracts her thumb.
“Don’t,” Silver responds reflexively, the plea escaping unchecked.
“I have to.” Elena disentangles herself. “My husband’s expecting me.”
“Is he gonna fuck you tonight?” The question slips out before Silver has a chance to consider how it makes her sound, and she mentally chastises herself for showing so much weakness.
This is a business transaction.
Nothing more.
Freedom for sex.
No emotions.
Elena grabs a handful of Silver’s blues and pulls her up into a kiss.
“Tomorrow,” she mumbles between lip-locks, wrapping her legs around her inmate’s waist. “I want you to be mine tomorrow night.”
“Not tonight?” Silver tries again, planting kisses on her neck, working lower.
Elena groans. “Not tonight.” She tugs Silver away from her.
“You have an inhuman amount of restraint.”
Elena laughs bitterly. “I’ve lived my whole life with restraint.” She caresses Silver’s face. “It’s letting go that’s the problem for me.”
Though Silver
retains control of her mouth and says nothing, she fears that letting go may yet prove to be a problem for both of them.
For the second night in a row, Elena lets herself into Silver’s room after lights out. This time, her jacket’s buttoned up, her sexuality reined in, and she’s clutching a computer tablet to her chest.
Waiting for her arrival, Silver looks up from the bed, watching her stand wordlessly in the doorway, her nerves apparent. “Are you ready?”
Elena nods, moving to sit beside her. “But I want to show you something first.” She hands Silver the tablet, someone’s biorhythms pulled up on the screen.
“What’s this?” Silver watches the selected emotions start to climb.
“Arousal.” Elena leans in and kisses her neck. “Lust.” She slides her hand onto Silver’s leg and the biorhythms leap sharply.
“Mine?” Silver guesses, feeling Elena’s hand run up her thigh.
“No.” Elena reaches between her legs. “Mine.” She squeezes Silver’s sex, rubbing her mound over her blues. “I wanted you to see what you do to me.”
Silver swivels to face her, pushing her knees apart. “I know what I do to you.” She worms a hand inside Elena’s underwear. “I can feel it.”
Elena melts at her touch. “Come with me.” She fishes Silver’s hand out of her undies and pulls her off the bed. “I’m taking you to my office.”
As they step quietly out of the room and down the hall, hands entwined, she flashes Silver a warm but sedate smile, looking every bit like a woman on a first date. This uncharacteristic diffidence accentuates the fragility Silver’s glimpsed in her on occasion. She’s a woman in full surrender, her heart unguarded. She’s a woman who’s hopelessly, tragically in love—whether she realizes it or not.
Silver senses it.
It’s evidenced by her clammy palms, her dilated pupils, and the tinge of sadness in her expression, her passions dampened by the knowledge that they’re reaching the zenith of their liaison. It becomes even more apparent when they enter her office, which has undergone a transformation of sorts.
Bedlam Page 10