No Rhyme or Reason

by Mairsile Leabhair

  “Joyce, I can’t. You’re the victim of a rape, and I’m still investigating that.”

  She leaned back with a disappointed look on her face. “I don’t want to be a victim anymore. I don’t want to feel cold and empty inside. I want to feel like me again.” Her eyes welled up, and the tears slipped silently down her cheeks. “I need to feel warm again, Trina. I need you to fill me with life, with excitement, with an orgasm.”

  I couldn’t help the smile growing large on my lips. There was nothing I’d rather do than give her what she needed, but still, I hesitated.

  “I’m not the same person you rescued from the church, Trina. I’m a Federal agent, and you and I are partners on a task force of two. We’re on the verge of shutting down a major crime ring that sells children as sex slaves and—”

  I smothered her words with my lips, pulling her into an embrace. She went limp in my arms as I explored her mouth with my lips, my tongue, and my heart. She tilted her head as I pulled her collar back and kissed her neck, becoming excited by the beat of her pulse against my lips.

  “Tell me what you need,” I whispered, cupping her cheeks as I gently kissed her forehead.

  “Please, I need you to erase any memory of him from my skin, from my mind, from inside of me,” she replied, sounding desperate as she clung to me. “Help me to rise up again.”

  “I will,” I assured her. Running my hands down her neck to her blouse. I unbuttoned the top button, but she couldn’t wait. She ripped her shirt open.

  “Hurry, please, hurry,” she said and laid back on the couch.

  But I couldn’t hurry. I couldn’t do anything except stare at her offering in awe. Soft and flushed with warmth, her breasts were small, but her nipples were large and erect, demanding to be appreciated.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked apprehensively.

  “My God. You’re beautiful,” I gasped, my tongue growing thick with need.

  “I am?” she asked.

  “Oh, yes. More than words can describe,” I said, my body tingling all over.

  She wanted it fast, to rush through it, but I imagined that was what the rapist had done. I needed to go slow with her, explore every inch of her body and replace her nightmare with pleasure. That was what I wanted for her. Uncompromised, unfettered pleasure. With more restraint than I thought I possessed, I kissed her between both breasts, then kissed my way down to her soft belly. I could feel the heat, the anticipation, rising off of her as I unzipped her jeans. I pulled them down her legs, her hands hurriedly trying to help me. I tossed the jeans to the side and began pulling her panties down when I saw her frown. There was a twinge of panic in her eyes. I instantly stopped what I was doing.

  “Look at me,” I demanded, grabbing her hands and placing them on my face. “Feel me. I am not him.”

  She looked up at me, the panic dissolving into understanding. She caressed my cheek, and a smile stretched across her lips. Timid at first but growing stronger.

  I kept my eyes locked on hers as I ripped off my shirt and pulled my tank top over my head. I sat before her, naked from the waist up. “I am not him,” I repeated.

  Her eyes lit up at the sight of me, and a single tear dropped onto her cheek.

  I realized that it wasn’t enough for me to make love to her. I needed to remind her that rape was not about making love, it was about taking away her control. She needed to feel like she was the one in control, that she was the one with all the power. I stood up and removed my jeans and shorts and then held out my hands. She took them and stood up, caressing my body with her eyes. She finished pulling down her panties and stepped out of them into my waiting arms.

  “My, God. You are so beautiful,” I said repeated, my heart pounding.

  She kissed me. It wasn’t an urgent kiss of need like before. It was a kiss of simmering passion that sent a burning desire down my body. I deepened the kiss, showing her my need, then I stretched out on the couch, my legs apart, my arms open wide and invited her in.

  She didn’t hesitate, much to my relief. She sat down on top of me, and I could feel the heat between her legs. It ignited the fire in my depths. I moved my hands up her sides, slipping them around to her back. Her skin was silky-soft, and her body moved to meet my hands even as she moved her hands across my stomach and up to my breasts. She squeezed, and I gasped. She squeezed again, and I arched my back, pushing harder into her playful hands. When I felt her hot breath on my nipple, I whimpered. When she nipped at it with her teeth, I groaned.

  My senses were quickly becoming muted with desire, but I remembered what I had promised her. I ran my fingernails down her back and squeezed the round fleshy parts of her rear. She arched her spine and threw her head back. I lifted my hips to meet hers and she pressed down on them. With one hand on my breast, squeezing and kneading to the grinding of our hips, she kneaded my breast as she slipped her other hand down my belly.

  “You’re so hot,” she said, slipping her fingers between my folds. “And so wet.”

  I inhaled sharply at her touch, tightening my stomach muscles and gasping for air. She was definitely in control and I was about to lose mine, but when I opened my eyes and gazed at her, I still saw the fear. My needs no longer mattered. I had to erase that fear from her eyes. I slipped my hand down between her legs and stroked her even as she stroked me. My heart beat faster as my breathing came rapidly. It was the sweetest torture I had ever felt.

  I tried several times to speak, but it took me a few minutes to catch my breath. “You have control, Joyce. What do you want me to do?”

  She pulled her hand away and closed her eyes. “I want you, Trina. I need you inside of me. Please,” she cried. “Take the pain away.”

  Her words cut deep and cleared my mind instantly. “I will, Joyce. I will,” I sobbed.

  “My name,” she gasped. “Say my name.”

  “Ruby. I see you, Ruby Grace, and you are beautiful.” With tears stinging my eyes even as my clitoris throbbed, my fingers penetrated her wetness and stroked her clitoris until it grew hard and erect.

  “Oh! Oh, I’m coming,” she yelled, thrusting her hips up to meet my fingers. She grabbed my arm and held on, straining to force the release. She opened and shut her eyes several times, looking at me as if to be sure it was me who was bringing her to orgasm.

  “I’ve got you, Ruby. You’re safe with me,” I said, sliding my free hand up her stomach to her breast, caressing it before bringing my hand back down her stomach to the inside of her thigh.

  Just as I was about to go down on her, she screamed my name and came, hard. She clung to me as I kept stroking, helping her ride the wave for as long as possible. It was the longest orgasm I had ever witnessed and my eyes welled up at the sight of such ultimate joy, such gratification on her face.

  “Thank you,” she gasped, still quivering as she let go of my arms and laid back. “Thank you.”

  I laid down beside her, propping my head up on my hand so I could see her. “It was as much my pleasure as it was yours,” I said, running a finger up her arm.

  “I doubt that,” she replied, rolling over so that she was facing me. She ran her soft hand over my hip, igniting the tingles that I had forgotten about. “Just give me a minute to catch my breath, and I’ll finish what I started.”

  “You have control, Ruby, I’m at your mercy.”

  “No,” she mumbled and began crying.

  I wasn’t sure what I had said, but her cries turned to sobs, and I pulled her to me, wrapping my arms around her shoulders. I held her close, stroking her arm with my hand. We were both naked, but there was nothing sexual about my embrace. Her guttural sobs had me too worried to notice anything else.

  “I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” she cried, burrowing herself against me. “I don’t know why I’m crying.”

  “Oh, God. Are you in pain? Did I hurt you?”

  She shook her head, her tears dripping on my forearm. “No. You gave me what I needed. It’s hard to explain, but you released me from that monster
and gave me back my courage.”

  “You are the most courageous woman I know. You just needed to be reminded of that,” I explained.

  Her crying quieted and she leaned back, wiping her tears from her cheeks. My body shivered at the loss of her warmth, but my mind rejoiced at her accomplishment. She was in control. “Oh,” I gasped as I felt her hand slip between my legs.

  “I need to finish what I started,” she cooed, kissing my chin.

  “Oh, yeah. That feels good,” I said breathlessly, lifting my hips to meet her fingers.

  “What about this?” she asked, squeezing my clit. “Does that feel good, too?”

  “Oh, man, does it,” I said, bringing my knees up so I could lift my hips higher.

  “Remember when I wanted it fast and hard?” she asked, her voice sounding a million miles away.

  “Oh, God,” I grunted, surprised at how quickly the pressure was building.

  “Well, since I made you wait, I won’t do that to you… this time.”

  She began stroking, slow at first, and then faster until I couldn’t hold my knees up anymore. All the blood had rushed to my clit and left me lightheaded, throbbing in exquisite pain that carried me onto another plane where only she existed.

  “I’m coming,” I cried.

  I grabbed the cushion and held on for dear life because I knew I was about to explode at any second. For something that felt so incredibly good, I didn’t think that I could take much more. Ruby must have sensed that because she slipped two fingers in, stroking twice as fast, pushing me into a blinding climax.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Is This What Love Feels Like? – Ruby Grace Sutherland

  I woke up with a start, confused and disoriented. Where am I? The room was dark and there was no sounds except for… snoring. Smiling, I realized I was sleeping on top of Trina. My head was on her soft breast, my arm laid across her stomach, and my legs were entangled with hers. Her arms were wrapped around me in a protective way that I never thought I needed before. Now, it was everything to me.

  I never put a label on myself saying I was femme or butch. I’m neither. I’m both. If I were to label Trina, I’d say she was a soft butch based on the underwear she wore. Realistically, it was a completely silly way of determining that. I’ve been with a few women who identified as butch and even one diesel dyke in college. None of them could compare to Trina, who had seen me at the most vulnerable I had ever been and helped me find myself again. She didn’t have to be so kind to me in the beginning. It wasn’t her job, and she could have handed me off to a social worker, but she didn’t. I fell instantly in love with her at the hospital when she held my hand and told me I was safe. Rationally I knew that it was a type of countertransference. But now, getting to know her as a person, not as a savior, it was so much more than that. The question was, should it be? We’d made love and though it was very good— very good— neither of us used any type of sentiment. I wanted to. When I looked at her as she touched me, the words baby, honey, and sweetheart, all popped into my head. They just didn’t make it to my lips. I guess I was waiting for her to go first.

  I could see the first golden glow of sunlight coming through the curtains and found myself wishing for more time to lay in Trina’s arms. I knew that once the day began, it would be spent mapping out the plan and then reporting to our bosses and tweaking the plan again. Up until the auction, the plan would be written and rewritten several times. Just a few more minutes in Trina’s arms, that’s all I needed.

  “What time is it?” Trina asked as she shifted her hips.

  I patted her stomach and said, “It’s early, go back to sleep.”

  “Okay, if you insist,” she mumbled and tightened her arms around me.

  She stroked my arm for a moment and then I felt her hand go limp. A moment later I heard a soft snore. I looked toward heaven and mouthed the words, “Thank you.”

  I didn’t mean to turn my thoughts inward, but a twinge in my stomach frightened me. I snuggled closer to Trina and closed my eyes as I prayed silently. God, I know I’m not the best at praying, like my sister. Who, by the way, I thank you for finding. But I’m begging you, please don’t let me be pregnant. I don’t think I could handle bearing a child that would remind me of the monster who forced himself on me. Please, spare me. In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost, Amen.

  *

  “What time is it?” I asked, stretching the kinks from my muscles. I was covered with an afghan that Trina must have draped over me because I don’t remember us needing one before.

  “Half past nine,” Trina answered from across the room.

  I must have fallen asleep again and the fact that she was able to get up without waking me was a testament to how content I felt sleeping next to her. I laid there and watched her dress with just a twinge of melancholy. Would we have another night like last night? Another morning where we woke up together?

  As she zipped her jeans up, Trina walked over to the couch and leaned over, kissing me on the forehead. “What would you like for breakfast?”

  “You,” I teased, grabbing her by the arm and pulling her down for a proper kiss.

  She groaned into my mouth as she kissed me, but then she pulled away. “I laid beside you this morning wishing we could stay on the couch all day.”

  “Then why aren’t we?” I asked with a pout.

  “You know why,” she said, taking a step back. “For a change, we the have the luxury of time to plan out a capture, get everything in place, even have time to rehearse for it. That’s extremely rare in our business.”

  “You’re right. But waking up the next morning with a woman is very rare for me.”

  She stopped tucking her shirt in and squatted on her knees to be eye level with me. “Ruby Grace, I want nothing more than to wake up beside you every morning. To learn what makes you happy and what makes you sad. To find your ticklish spots and especially where your erogenous zones are. I want to know everything about you. But more than all that, I want to protect you and keep you safe. And you won’t be safe until Joey is behind bars.”

  Blinking the mist from my eyes, I sat up, letting the afghan fall away. Her eyes grew large as she gazed at my breasts, and I struggled to keep my growing desire to touch her at bay. I tucked a finger under her chin and brought her eyes up to meet mine. “And I want to protect you and keep you safe, as well.”

  “Good. I like that. So… what do you want for breakfast?”

  Laughing, I pecked her on the lips and replied, “How about your famous omelets?”

  “You got it, G-man. Or should I say, G-woman?”

  Shaking my head, I said, “How about neither?”

  She grinned at me. “You got it, beautiful. Just stay right there. I want to serve you breakfast in bed, uh, couch.”

  Beautiful. I understood now and it made perfect sense. She needed to know if I wanted a relationship before she would use a sentiment. The fact that it was important to her was very meaningful to me. “You got it, gorgeous.”

  She did a double take, grinned, and then strutted into the kitchen.

  I laid down again and snuggled in the afghan, feeling like a queen. I used to be the kind of person who gave a woman two dates max before deciding whether to fall in love with her or cut her loose. In fact, if she even made it to the end of the second date, I was ready to marry her. But with Trina, it felt completely different. I felt… contented.

  Is This What Real Love Feels Like? – Trina Wiles

  I’ve reached the age where I want to settle down with someone and share my life. Maybe raise a kid or two together. I thought I had been in love with Lori, but those feelings for her were nothing compared to what I was feeling for Ruby. Was I still seeing her as the victim? How could I not? She was the victim of a violent rape. But she was not the timid, fearful person I first met. She was strong, determined, and defiant. In that regard, we had a lot in common. But she was also soft, vulnerable, and so damn beautiful that it almost hurt to look
at her. Almost. I was afraid to admit, even to myself, that I wanted more with Ruby Grace. There was so much more to her that I wanted to discover. But dare I let myself want it all?

  I would never say this to anyone, but the first time I saw her holding the candlestick and threatening to clobber my brother, she’d excited me in a way no woman had before. But she was my case, my investigation, and worst of all, she had been raped. I couldn’t imagine being the victim of that kind of assault and I investigated them all the time. Then I found out that she was a nun, and the cold shower turned to ice. Even if that were the only thing keeping me from asking her out, I drew the line at married women.

  But now everything had completely turned 360 and my head was spinning. What would happen after we closed the case? Would she still be interested? I knew I would. And what if she was pregnant with her rapist’s baby? She hadn’t mentioned it since Sunday, so I wasn’t sure what she was feeling about it. Shivering at the thought, I could hear my mother saying, “Katrina Marie, don’t go borrowing trouble.”

  “Is something burning in here?” Ruby asked.

  “What?” I jumped back to reality. “Oh, yeah. Got the pan a little too hot.” I turned down the burner just a notch and moved the pan off it. Then I looked over at her. “Say, aren’t you supposed to wait and let me serve you in bed, Ruby Grace?” I knew that she liked the name I’d given her, Joyce, but truth be told, Ruby Grace just seemed to fit now that I knew her better.

  “Just Ruby, if you don’t mind. I don’t want people thinking I’m a good Catholic virgin.”

  “No, wouldn’t want that, would we,” I teased. “Well, I would, but—”

  She swatted me on the arm. “All right now, behave.”

  Laughing, I turned back to the stove and the eggs.

  “What can I do to help?” she asked, walking up beside me.