Party of Three

by Sandy Lowe

  “Relax,” Spencer murmured, “let’s see how good this can feel.”

  She couldn’t possibly relax, not with Spencer’s fingers tracing those maddening circles and her pussy dripping need down her thighs.

  “Touch yourself,” Spencer said.

  Avery followed her instruction, sliding a hand down and pressing her fingers to her clit. Oh God, oh God, oh God. She fought to ignore Spencer’s ministrations and put all her focus on relaxing her body and the pleasure fanning out in waves from her clit. She breathed deeply in and out. She’d imagined Spencer touching her here countless times, but fantasy was a pale imitation of the mind-blowingly sexy and forbidden reality. Sensation whipped through her, weakening every muscle. If Avery hadn’t already been on her knees she’d have dropped as all her insides liquefied.

  “Does it feel good?” Spencer asked, pressing more firmly against her.

  “Yes.” Avery’s voice didn’t sound like her own, higher pitched and laced with longing. “You can go inside if you want to.” God, she hoped Spencer wanted to.

  When Spencer slipped past the last of her resistance and slid a finger in, the slight discomfort was quickly obliterated by the singularly erotic sensation of being filled. Her back arched and she was falling, falling, falling. It was all too much. Too good. “My love.”

  “You’re driving me out of my mind,” Spencer said softly. “I could come just from looking at you like this.”

  Avery pressed the flat of her palm against her pussy, afraid she’d go over too soon.

  “Look how gorgeous you are, your fingers working your pussy while mine are in your ass. Can I move inside you?”

  “Yes.” Later, she’d be embarrassed that Spencer was so naturally good at dirty talk and all she’d managed was two yeses between clenched teeth. But later could wait. Right now, Spencer was moving inside her and it was all she could do to breathe.

  Spencer slid out to the fingertip and added a second finger. “You feel so good. Warm and slick.”

  Avery’s toes curled and she went completely boneless. There was no way she’d be able to stop the freight train of her orgasm now. “Please, love. Please.”

  “Mmm.” Spencer kissed around her fingers, swirling her tongue along Avery’s cleft in a way that had her on the brink of toppling over into oblivion from which she never wanted to return. “I’m definitely going to need to try this, if it feels half as hot as it looks.”

  “God.” Avery’s voice was sandpaper. Images of Spencer’s delicious little ass in the air and Avery pumping inside her danced in her head. “You’re killing me.”

  She’d never expected Spencer to use her tongue, couldn’t fathom ever asking, but it was exactly what she’d fantasized about. How Spencer saw beneath all her social graces and emotional reserves was a puzzle she’d never solve.

  “Well, we’d better make you come nice so at least you’ll go out in style.” Spencer buried the fingers of her other hand in Avery’s pussy in a long, deep thrust.

  It was at once too much and everything. Avery came in a rush, breaking apart and coming together, pleasure shooting through her like fireworks on the Fourth of July and stealing all the breath from her lungs, leaving her gasping.

  “You’re not done.” Spencer kept riding the wave with her, not stilling the thrust of her fingers. “Come for me again.”

  She fought for air, didn’t think she had anything left, but the feel of Spencer inside her was so good she just held on. In a matter of minutes, she could feel the pressure rising again, like a current pulling against the waves and washing the tide to shore. Then Spencer blew her mind to pieces by pressing her very wet pussy against the back of her thigh and sliding against her.

  “Oh. Jesus. Fuck. Yes.” Avery was deaf and blind, focused only on the waves rising within her and the heat of Spencer’s pussy.

  “I want to come,” Spencer panted. “Come with me.”

  Spencer was all over Avery, fingers losing their purchase as she was overcome with her own desire, but it didn’t matter. Their skin collided and Avery’s control snapped clean in two. She came with a ferocity that made her ears ring, screaming into her hand in a way she’d never screamed before as Spencer moaned and shuddered her own release behind her. It was guttural and primal and her jaw ached from trying to keep quiet.

  Everything about the next moments was perfection. The way she collapsed like a house of cards against the quilt, and Spencer collapsed on top of her, the sweat on her skin, the soft words Spencer murmured into her hair. It was all exactly everything she’d ever hoped for and so much more than she’d ever imagined.

  “Well, I think I can safely say I no longer feel quite so guilty about kissing you,” Avery said sleepily.

  Spencer rolled off her and glanced around. “How did we end up diagonal across the bed with the quilt almost on the floor?”

  Avery lifted her head for a second before letting it thunk back down again, too exhausted in the happily sated way of amazing sex to move. “Guess we were a bit rowdy. We might have broken the bed.”

  Spencer snorted. “It would have been worth it if we did.”

  Avery rolled over, feeling as graceful as a hippo in mud. And there was Spencer, looking thoroughly ravished and more beautiful than Avery had ever seen her. “I love you.”

  Damn.

  She hadn’t meant to say that. Not again. But the moment was ripe for the truth. She’d never stopped loving Spencer, and she was sure she never would. Even if, after tonight, Spencer decided she didn’t want to see her again, she’d take Avery’s heart with her. It belonged to her whether she wanted it or not. Avery had handed it to her with a no refund policy that day in the pool house. She braced herself for Spencer to tell her she wasn’t ready yet, hoping only that Spencer was willing to see where this thing lead them.

  Spencer rolled against her with enough force to send Avery onto her back with Spencer on top of her. Spencer’s long hair fell around them like a sensual curtain. “I know,” Spencer said against her lips. “I love you too.”

  “It’s okay, I understand—wait, what?” Avery shoved up, taking Spencer with her and almost toppling them in an ungraceful heap. Smooth. “You what?”

  Spencer laughed, her eyes bright. “I love you.”

  Avery shook her head slowly. “You can’t. I mean, you never did. You don’t.”

  “But I do.” Spencer kissed her, vibrating a little, almost giddy. “Avery, I love you. I think I knew I loved you the minute I saw you with stupid Daniella and wanted to shoot her. But tonight, the way you touched me. The way you trusted me. I knew. I love you.” Spencer rained a thousand tiny kisses all over her face.

  “You love me.” Even as she said them, the words didn’t seem real.

  “I.” She kissed the space between her brows.

  “Love.” She kissed the tip of her nose.

  “You.” Spencer kissed her mouth.

  It was that kiss that did it. Spencer had kissed her countless times that night. Shyly. Eagerly. Passionately. Kisses fraught with need and soaked in desire. But this kiss was altogether different. It wrapped around Avery like the warmest hug. Sure and steady, confident and tender, the kiss was a promise of all the kisses to come.

  A forever kiss.

  “God. I fucking love you.” Avery cupped her face and kissed her again.

  “I know. You were always soft on me, you big sap.” Spencer smiled in a way that made her feel like a million bucks. “Don’t ever stop, okay?”

  “Forever, love.” Avery wrapped her arms around Spencer and drew her back down between the sheets.

  Forever wouldn’t be long enough for either of them.

  KAITLYN

  Chapter Fifteen

  Anyone But You

  Forget the zombie apocalypse. She’d be better off gathering doomsday provisions and heading for the hills. Either way, disaster was imminent.

  If she was going to die, Kaitlyn Forrester guessed she wouldn’t end up zombie breakfast, or even the victim of a gl
obal warming induced natural disaster. No, nothing like that. Nothing that would go viral on YouTube, or get her friends on Ellen reminiscing about how brave she was. Her heart would simply take off its battle armor, shake its head, and give up the good fight. “Sorry, hun,” it would say, in a drawling Midwestern accent that somehow wouldn’t surprise her at all. “I did everything I could. Better luck in the next life and all that.” And before Kaitlyn took her last breath, she’d nod solemnly and thank her heart for doing its best by her, because there were only so many battles you could fight, weren’t there?

  Kaitlyn smiled her I’m-at-a-social-function-and-can’t-run-away-from-you smile. She’d noticed Chelsey Thomas within minutes of entering the ballroom, and it had taken her almost two hours, two glasses of top-notch pinot grigio, and some sneaky reconnaissance to make sure Chelsey was attracted to the fairer sex before she’d gathered the courage to talk to her.

  A minute and a half later, ninety-seven seconds to be exact, she’d realized her mistake. In that time, her white picket fence fantasy woman had turned into the perfect candidate for cognitive behavioral therapy.

  “I just don’t know what happened,” Chelsey was saying, her voice shrill as she spoke to be heard over the people milling too close around them. “One minute we’re talking about adopting a puppy together and the next she’s kissing someone else like she doesn’t even know me.”

  Kaitlyn squeezed Chelsey’s hand. “I’m really sorry. You seem like a good person who didn’t deserve that.” Not that Kaitlyn really knew if she was a good person or not. If rich brown eyes and shoulders broad enough to fill out the man’s shirt she had on made a person good, then Chelsey was a candidate for sainthood. Aside from that, Kaitlyn really had no clue, and it looked like she wasn’t going to find out any time soon.

  “I know, right? She doesn’t deserve me.” Chelsey sniffed, tears welling. “Sorry for just dumping all of this on you. You’re so easy to talk to.”

  Oh God, don’t cry. Kaitlyn hated herself for being one of those people who went panicky when a woman cried, but honestly, they’d only just met. What was she supposed to do? She hoped her smile hadn’t reached grimace territory. Talking to sexy, dark-haired, gym-buff women was on the admittedly fairly lengthy list of things that freaked her out, but she’d tried to put herself out there, hadn’t she? She’d talked to someone new, someone not connected to work, someone she wouldn’t necessarily object to seeing naked. And how did the universe repay her? With a sob story and a you’re so easy to talk to. Nothing said friend-zoned like a good ol’ gal pal heart-to-heart. All they needed now was ice cream and a chick flick.

  “I’m sure you’ll find the right one soon.” Kaitlyn patted her hand before letting it go. But not me. Even if Chelsey had been looking for love tonight, Kaitlyn wasn’t going to be anyone’s rebound, thank you very much. She’d wait for the real deal. Manhattan was full of sidepieces and good-timers. She’d seen how that ended up and wanted nothing to do with it.

  Chelsey’s phone buzzed in her pocket and she pulled it out. “Sorry, I’m not on call, but…” She read the text message and sighed. “I’ll be right back.”

  As Chelsey headed toward the doors, Kaitlyn felt her fake smile droop. Having all her carefully nurtured hopes dashed faster than you could say not over her ex sucked, but standing alone in the corner watching happy drunk people get happier and drunker was worse. She started for the bar. Screw it. If you can’t beat ’em, join ’em.

  Midway between her spot in the corner and the sanctuary of the place where the alcohol lived, Kaitlyn spotted a familiar face. Tara, the treasurer of her charity, Forrester Fund, was standing just outside a group of businessmen and looked about as bored as Kaitlyn felt. She beelined for her. “Hey, you. Charming all the bizillionaires, hoping to strike it rich?”

  Tara gave her a quick hug and rolled her eyes. “As if. I mean, if Zuckerberg wanted to sweep me off my feet, maybe I’d give him half an hour. But these guys?” She gestured subtly to the suits. “They’re my dad’s age and not nearly as interesting.”

  Wasn’t that the truth.

  Kaitlyn had hired Tara for her accounting superpowers, but they’d become friends because Tara was one of the few people in Manhattan who said it like it was. She was thirty-two and wasn’t about to give it up to some pushing-sixty, silver fox wannabe just for the chance at an all you can shop Chanel buffet.

  “Oh!” Tara said, as if the cure for cancer had just popped fully formed into her head. “I almost forgot to tell you. I’ve found you the perfect woman.”

  Kaitlyn held back the dear God no. It was her own fault. She was the one who, in a moment of extreme weakness, too many Hershey’s Kisses on a Friday afternoon, sugar-induced semi-coma, had told Tara she wanted to find someone. Someone for something serious. She’d presented this as if she was making that choice from the mature and honorable standpoint of an adult looking to settle down, and not because dating was about as scary as seeing Texas Chainsaw Massacre for the first time. All that small talk and feigning interest in corporate finance, or mountain biking, or Vishnu yoga. No. If she had to do it, she’d find the right one and stick to them like glue. “Oh? Who is it?” Kaitlyn asked, nodding to the business card Tara was holding.

  Tara craned her neck to look over Kaitlyn’s head. “I can’t see where she went off to, but Mark Henderson has just hired her as an associate at Henderson, Cooper, and Goff. I was talking to her about some pro bono work for the Fund. She seemed interested.”

  So was Kaitlyn. She could afford to pay for legal counsel, and often did, but she’d prefer every cent of the money her mother had routed to Forrester Fund go to those who really needed it, and not overhead. Mark was no sucker. If he’d hired this woman, she must be exceptional. “Yeah? What kind of law?”

  “Tax mostly, but she has experience with nonprofits.”

  Kaitlyn laughed. “That must’ve made your night. You sure she’s not perfect for you?”

  Tara gave up craning. “If I played for your team, I’d definitely want an all night primer on 501(c) regulations.”

  “That hot, huh?”

  “Oh yeah. Like, did we just teleport to a sauna, because I’m flushed and sweaty level sexy, but nice too.”

  “Nice, how?” Kaitlyn asked. Nice was good. Nice was safe, comforting, reliable. Nice sounded pretty damn amazing actually, and the hot part didn’t hurt either.

  “Well, she listened to me when I talked, asked interesting questions, and only glanced at my rack once,” Tara said.

  “Only once?” Kaitlyn sighed in mock disappointment. “Maybe she’s not interested in women then.”

  “A possibility, but she has that Rachel Maddow vibe, only blonder. She’s really smart, in a totally sexy way. I hate to stereotype, but I’m calling lesbian on this one. You should definitely meet her.”

  “Hmm. I don’t know.” The last thing she needed was to embarrass herself by coming on to someone who could help them as legal counsel.

  “Kaitlyn,” Tara said in a tone that reeked of this is for your own good, “you need to put yourself out there. Have some fun. Maybe even get laid.” She shoved the business card at Kaitlyn and, not expecting it, Kaitlyn watched it flutter to the floor.

  She scoffed and bent down to pick it up. “What do I need to get laid for when I have a perfectly good vibrator in my top drawer? Better and faster than any woman I’ve ever been with, if I’m honest.”

  She expected a witty retort. Maybe a “but slow is so much better” or even a “why not both?” but the silence had her pausing, bent at the knees.

  “Hello again. Hope I’m not interrupting,” said a warm voice above her.

  Oh.

  Hell.

  No.

  She rose on jelly legs to see Tara biting her lip, her eyes sparkling in a way that promised she was three seconds from bursting out laughing. Kaitlyn felt her face flush. Tara’s sauna analogy wasn’t far off the mark. That voice definitely had her sweaty, but what Tara didn’t know was that she’
d heard it before. By now it was more of a memory wrapped in nostalgia, but there was no mistaking it.

  She took a deep breath and swung to face the newcomer.

  “Hi, Kait, it’s good to see you.”

  It would be petty to just walk away, right? To leave Becca standing in her dust while she stormed out. Or maybe it would be empowering. She’d be an example to all the women everywhere who’d had their hopes and dreams crushed, and yet were forced to make ridiculous small talk with their archenemies because it was polite.

  “You too.” Since she was a bigger person, hell, a better person than Becca, she wouldn’t make a scene, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t use as few words as possible.

  “I go by Beck now,” she said. “You haven’t changed, still as beautiful as ever.”

  Kaitlyn glared. Where did Becca get off calling her beautiful? And for that matter, where did she get off changing her name?

  “You two know each other?” Tara asked tentatively, a natural cheerleader in the unfortunate position of refereeing a boxing match.

  “We dated a bit in high school.” Beck’s smile was easy, as if the hostility currently setting Kaitlyn’s hair on end completely bypassed her.

  “We didn’t date a bit.” Kaitlyn hated people who said things in air quotes, but found herself doing just that. She knew she sounded like a stuck-up librarian correcting someone’s grammar, but couldn’t help it. Date a bit? Seriously? Way to make her seem small and insignificant. Why was Becca, sorry, Beck, even here? Was she back, or just in town to see family, and why had she come over to talk to her? To rub it in? To make her feel insecure? To stir up old resentments for her own amusement? “We had a relationship. We loved each other.”

  Like any of that mattered now. Loved was a word saddened by past tense.

  Beck inclined her head. “We did.”

  “Oh.” Tara looked back and forth between them like a spectator at a tennis match. “Um, wow.”