by Sandy Lowe
Chapter Five
Cheer Up, Butter Cup
Ryan had the patience of an explorer in new terrain. Mapping every inch of Sarah’s mouth with the glide of her lips and the sweep of her tongue, leaving no corner undiscovered. Breathe. It was like the touch of Ryan’s lips to hers had flipped a switch, igniting her body. Her skin seemed to light up from the inside, every cell on high alert. Waiting. Wanting. Begging. Just breathe.
The kiss was demanding yet thorough. Purposeful but not hurried. When Ryan paused to suck Sarah’s bottom lip into her mouth, darts of knee-weakening pleasure arrowed down her body, pooling in her clit, making her so, so wet. Someone made a sound, a small whimper filled with so much desire her cheeks burned. It wasn’t until she heard it again that she realized she was the one making it. She wanted Ryan’s body over hers. She wanted to arch up and rub herself against all the angles and planes of her skin, to beg for attention like a lonely kitten.
Sarah moaned. She couldn’t stop herself. She wasn’t sure how much more of this torturously patient, world-crashing-to-a-halt kissing she could take. When Ryan eased back a fraction of an inch and stared into her eyes, held the connection, Sarah literally forgot all about breathing. All she could do was stare back. The hungry look on Ryan’s face stripped her bare. Whatever pretense of control she’d been deluding herself with shattered. No one had ever looked at her with so much want in their eyes.
Ryan cupped Sarah’s cheeks in her palms and kissed her tenderly, a kiss that had everything to do with attraction, yet felt like more. Sarah felt cherished. Fuck. She had no business feeling something like that. She’d given up on ridiculous romantic notions. When Melinda had walked out, she’d taken the espresso machine, an Andy Warhol print that had hung above their couch, and Sarah’s faith in happily ever after. She didn’t even know Ryan. Not really. Getting sentimental over some intense eye contact and kissing wasn’t practical. Sarah pulled back. Tonight was supposed to be fun, a little release of sexual tension, not have her emotions churning and her body halfway to orgasm after just one kiss. And she wasn’t supposed to be losing it over Ryan. Not a woman she’d only just met.
“Um, wow.” Her vocabulary was not improving.
Ryan rested her forehead gently on Sarah’s. “I’ll say.”
“You’re pretty okay at that.” Sarah desperately tried to inject some levity into the situation that had gotten all fog-the-windows steamy and intense way too fast. The persistent throbbing between her legs was getting difficult to ignore. It wasn’t natural to be this turned on from a kiss, was it? Had Melinda’s disinterest fucked with her so badly that one kiss, one moment of tenderness, had her ready to come? Was she really that needy? People kissed all the time. No big deal. She could pretend the kiss hadn’t mattered. That she hadn’t just had the hottest sexual experience of her whole life. No one needed to know just how desperate she was.
There was no denying she wanted Ryan to fuck her.
What the hell was she going to do about that?
Ryan narrowed her eyes. “Pretty okay, huh?”
Sarah struggled for nonchalance. “Somewhere or other in the top quartile of kisses. For two people who spend the majority of their time in the kitchen, we didn’t do too bad.”
There, see? She’d done it. No big deal.
Ryan didn’t look amused. “There’s something important you should know about me.” She fingered a strand of Sarah’s hair, twirling it and tugging just hard enough Sarah felt the pressure against her scalp. It was becoming a habit, as if Ryan just couldn’t help touching her.
Ryan’s face was so serious Sarah was almost afraid to ask. “What’s that?”
“I’m very competitive. I can do so much better than pretty okay. I’ve been practicing since I was twelve.”
“You—” Before Sarah could get another word out, Ryan’s lips were back on hers, but this kiss was neither patient nor gentle. It was pure challenge. Ryan plundered her mouth, taking everything she had and demanding more. When her arms came around Sarah’s waist, she would have luxuriated in the feel of those strong hands on her body if Ryan hadn’t shifted Sarah into her lap as if she weighed no more than a bag of Doritos. Without thinking, Sarah moved with her, straddling her, her legs falling open on either side of Ryan’s, her pussy flush against Ryan’s thigh. Oh God. The material of her dress pulled taut, and when Ryan cupped her ass and brought their bodies together, she shuddered. It felt so good to be touched. Finally. Sarah gave in to temptation and rubbed herself against Ryan.
Her panties were so wet, slick fabric glided easily against her pussy as she rode Ryan’s thigh. Her blood rushed and pleasure whipped through her, coiling low and tight in her belly, every nerve poised and ready to explode. Her breath came in quick, short pants as her pussy beat to the same rhythm.
The pressure against her clit was a thousand teasing fingers, pushing her to the edge and leaving her helpless. She needed more. Ryan’s hand, her mouth. Ryan’s everything, all over her everything, making the world spiral out of control until she was finally sated. But they hadn’t even taken their clothes off, maybe they wouldn’t. Maybe this was just a makeout session. They were in a semipublic place. She had to get a grip.
She’d always need more than she was going to get.
She was doing just exactly what she’d told herself she was strong enough to avoid.
Sarah backed it up before Ryan realized just how embarrassingly turned on she was. Why couldn’t her body and brain get on the same page when it came to this woman? She came up for air, searched her sex-scrambled brain for something to say that wasn’t I think I could come just from your mouth on mine.
Sliding off Ryan’s lap and settling next to her again, trying not to look awkward about it, Sarah asked, “Twelve. You started early, didn’t you?” There, that was a normal person question, right? They didn’t have to talk about the kiss. It was a moment of weakness. No, less than that. It was a blip. Just a blip on the radar of her screwed up life.
Ryan took a moment to catch her breath, her fingers not quite steady when she brushed her hair out of her eyes. She glanced down at her empty lap and studied Sarah for a beat, as if deciding whether to answer the question or ask one of her own. “I spent a summer upstate in middle school, and Jessica Clements had a kissing booth at the county fair. My little lesbian heart just about beat itself out of my chest, she was so pretty. I used every dollar I had locking lips with my very own Mrs. Robinson until I was sure I had it just right and the tri-county beauty queen would be mine forever.”
Sarah laughed. “How old was she?”
“About seventeen. But when you’re a scrawny twelve-year-old tomboy, seventeen is an insurmountable level of sophistication. Almost as scarily adult as Frappuccinos or staying up past midnight.”
“I take it she didn’t feel quite the same way about you?”
“Not so much. She had a boyfriend on the football team. There’s something ironic about working a kissing booth to raise money for your boyfriend’s sports team, don’t you think?”
“Sounds kind of sexy to me.”
Ryan’s eyes lit with appreciation. “Oh, I never thought of it like that. Maybe she liked kissing half the town, showing off for him.”
“Maybe he liked having a girlfriend everyone wanted to kiss.”
“You know, I bet you’re right. I like the way your mind works, Aphrodite.”
Sarah smiled. She liked the way her mind worked too. She’d just never known anyone who could meet her halfway. “Oh, my mind is packed full of wicked thoughts.”
“You’re very sexy.”
Sarah scoffed and looked away. She wasn’t sexy.
Their bottles of water were sweating on the picnic table. She should really go find a coaster or there would be water rings on the wood in the morning.
“What just happened?”
“Sorry?”
“I told you that you were sexy and the conversation stopped dead.”
“Oh. That.”
�
�Yeah. That.”
McGregor would surely flip out if his three-thousand-dollar made-to-look-rustic Frontgate picnic table was ruined. Should she tell him? Probably. Now would be a good time. She’d go do that.
“Sarah.”
Sarah sighed. “I’m not sexy.”
“Well, that’s ridiculous.”
“It’s true. My last girlfriend told me so. In unfortunate graphic detail.”
“She sounds like a colossal bitch.”
“Maybe.” Sarah picked up the water and set it on a folded napkin.
Ryan put an arm around her shoulders. The gesture was so warm and comforting Sarah couldn’t help but lean into the heat of her body.
“I’m having a real hard time believing anyone could make a case for you not being sexy. Does this woman have eyes? Ears? Functioning brain cells?”
“All of the above. We were together about a year, so she had plenty of time to use them all to draw her conclusion.” Then, almost as an afterthought. “I loved her.”
Ryan’s hand moved to her back, traced the curve of Sarah’s spine in silent encouragement. “I’m sorry you were hurt.”
“The sex was never very good, I can see that now, but at the time I only saw how much I wanted Melinda. How attractive she was. How turned on I got just from looking at her. I was totally crazy for her. But just because you want the sex to be good doesn’t mean it is.” She stopped suddenly. “Sorry, I shouldn’t be talking about this to someone I just made out with.” Correction. Someone I almost came with.
“I don’t mind. Jealousy is overrated.”
Jealousy was overrated. She liked that. “I fell hard, and for me, a big part of that was sexual attraction. But over time the sex became less frequent. She was never in the mood. Always too busy. Too distracted. Whenever we had sex, it felt like some monumental effort for her.” Sarah stopped. After all this time, it still hurt.
“No one should feel as if they’re an obligation.”
She nodded. That was it exactly. “Eventually, we stopped. I wanted her to want me, not to have sex out of some sense of duty. I thought maybe I’d done something wrong. Turned her off in some way. I tried to bring it up, but didn’t push very hard. I was afraid I was right, and who wants to face the fact their girlfriend thinks they’re unattractive? Sticking my head in the sand isn’t my style, but I wanted it to work between us, so I tried it. What they don’t tell you about that tactic is that after a while, it’s impossible to breathe. You just suffocate in the loneliness.”
“Sarah.” That one simple word, two short syllables, her word, her name, held an endless supply of compassion and support.
“The week before we broke up, I’d gone out into the city with Avery. Kaitlyn had a cold and couldn’t make it, and after one too many cocktails, we’d ended up at an upscale strip joint in Times Square. One of the dancers took a special interest in me, and Avery bought me a lap dance.” She realized how sleazy it must sound and didn’t want Ryan to think she was a wanton hussy. “It was a joke. A bit of fun. I don’t do that kind of thing all the time. I wasn’t really into it, just caught up in the idea.”
“I’ll buy that it’s not something you do regularly, but no woman with a pulse isn’t into a lap dance. I think it’s really sexy that you were there and very cool of your friend to do that for you.”
Surprise had her mouth opening slightly and her tears drying up. “You do?”
“Oh yeah. I’d love to have watched.”
Sarah’s pussy clenched. Oh. A woman who thought jealousy was overrated and wanted to watch another woman turn her on? She needed to learn how to say “yes please” in at least ten languages. STAT. One just wasn’t enough.
“Did you like the other patrons in the club watching?” Ryan’s voice was velvety rough.
“I would’ve liked it better if you were watching.”
Ryan groaned. “Did you come?”
Sarah shook her head, the question vanquishing the fantasy of Ryan in a dimly lit club, watching her get hotter and hotter as a sexy stripper worked her magic. “I didn’t let it get that far. It felt disloyal. I was with Melinda after all.”
Ryan nodded.
“When I got home that night, I was really keyed up. I begged Melinda, told her how much I needed her, and she begrudgingly agreed to make love. She started stroking me and I was happy I hadn’t come in the club. But she fell back asleep in less than a minute, literally with her fingers on my clit.”
Ryan winced. “God. I’m so sorry.”
“Yeah. It wasn’t my finest moment. Turned on and drunk isn’t a great combination. The next morning, we talked. I apologized for coming on too strong too fast, but I wanted to get to the bottom of what was going on with us. A paid stripper had more interest in me than my own girlfriend.” That fact had eaten away at her, leaving her tossing and turning, confusion and desire an unsettling mix in her belly.
“What happened?”
“She told me I was making a big deal out of nothing; she’d just been tired. That was such bullshit. We were on totally different planets when it came to sex. It was about more than one night. So I asked if she was asexual.”
Ryan whistled softly. “Wow.”
“Yeah. It would’ve explained a lot. She didn’t confirm or deny, and I took her non-answer as a yes. I thought she was embarrassed to admit it. In retrospect I can see that I wanted to believe she was asexual. It was easier than thinking she wasn’t into me. She was just wired differently. That wasn’t personal.”
“Makes sense.” Ryan’s hand moved down to the small of her back, rubbing circles only an inch above her ass. Sarah shivered. She wanted to grab Ryan’s hand and slide it lower, then higher up under her dress. She’d been imagining the feel of those hands on her bare skin all night, and the heat of Ryan’s palm though her dress was making her crave the real deal.
But she needed to finish this story. She’d never told anyone all of it before, and for some reason she couldn’t explain, she wanted Ryan to know the truth. Even if that meant Ryan walked away.
The sky had begun to darken in earnest, a faint smattering of starlight dotting the sky. Warm yellow garden lights flickered to life along the edge of the flowerbeds and pathways, lighting the grounds in a faint glow. The shadows they cast made it hard to see Ryan’s face beside hers.
“I felt better. I mentally committed to doing everything I could to be there for her. I had no idea what box I would shove my overwhelming attraction into, but that seemed unimportant when she was coming to terms with an identity that could change her life. I hoped it would make her happier. I so badly wanted to make her happy.
“On Sunday afternoon, they’d closed half of Times Square for a parade and I shut up the shop early. I decided to surprise Melinda with a romantic dinner. Candlelight, a movie, cuddling on the couch. She was constantly complaining I worked too hard and was never home, so this was my chance to show her how important she was to me.”
“And?”
“When I got there, she wasn’t in the main part of our apartment so I went looking for her. The bedroom door was cracked a couple of inches and I glanced in. Melinda was in bed with another woman.”
Ryan sucked in a breath. “So, she wasn’t asexual then.”
“Nope. Not by a long shot. I couldn’t believe it. It made no sense.”
“Did you confront them?”
Sarah shook her head. “Most people would have, I guess. I was too confused to consider barging in there. I just left the apartment, took a walk.”
“But you confronted Melinda later?”
“When I was sure the other woman had left. It didn’t go well.”
“Why did she have sex with this other woman?” Ryan asked, getting straight to the point.
Sarah sighed and rubbed a hand over the back of her neck. “Long story short? Melinda got off on having sex with strangers. Apparently, actually getting to know someone killed her sex drive.”
“That’s…wow.”
“Yeah. It gets
worse.”
“Is that possible?” Ryan’s touch on her back was tense, her body still and tight, as if she was steeling herself for Sarah’s pain.
“I made the mistake of trying to understand. I’m not like most people. If Melinda had been honest with me, told me she liked sex with strangers, I would have found a way to accommodate that desire. I wasn’t totally against the idea of seeing her with someone else. Watching them, maybe. But when I suggested that, when I fucking offered to give her exactly what she wanted after she’d been cheating on me for God knows how long, she looked incredibly awkward. Like I’d just pooped all over her cupcake and she wasn’t sure how to tell me she didn’t want it anymore. She said it was really sweet of me, but that that wouldn’t work for her. She didn’t want me there.”
“Are you serious? But why?” Ryan asked.
“When she’s done with someone she’s done. She loved me according to her. She wanted the picture-perfect relationship, but she had no interest in me sexually anymore. I was used goods. She’d been there and done me. Having me there would have been distracting, diverting her attention from what she really wanted. She oh-so-generously told me I could sleep with other people, too, if I wanted.”
Ryan all but growled. “I want to kill her. Chop her bones into little pieces.”
“Thanks, I guess. Anyway, I wish I could say I flayed her with the fury of a thousand swords, but all I did was sit on the floor and cry. Right there in front of her. Talk about pathetic.”
Ryan didn’t say anything, just scooped Sarah back onto her lap and wrapped her arms tight around her as Sarah’s tears fell and the last of her grief soaked into the front of Ryan’s shirt.
“Tell me the rest,” Ryan murmured against her hair.
“That’s when she told me I wasn’t sexy. I don’t think she meant to insult me, but she crouched down, all concerned girlfriend, and told me in a so-reasonable-and-mature tone that it wasn’t unusual for two people in a relationship to find different things sexy. That she didn’t find me sexy anymore, but that didn’t mean we couldn’t have a great life together. Like picking out furniture and sharing the same Netflix account somehow made up for not wanting to touch me.”