Lesbian Boss (Sapphic Sweethearts #5)

12.

Emily

W hen you work at an office, you aren’t supposed to know what your boss tastes like. You aren’t supposed to know how she melts under your hand when you run your fingers across her skin. There’s a certain level of secret-keeping that goes on when you work with someone, and that includes not knowing how she groans when you touch her ass in just the right spot.

Somehow, we end up back at my apartment. It’s small. It’s too small for a woman like her, but we get there, and we end up on the couch, and we end up with her on my lap.

“I’ve been thinking about you a lot,” she says.

“Me too.”

“I like the way you make me smile,” she says.

“I like your smile.”

“I like everything about you.”

She kisses me again and again and again.

My hands are up her shirt, on her breasts, and then back at her hips. She dominates my mouth, kissing me over and over.

“I want more,” I say.

“Tell me.”

“You’ve already felt me come,” I say.

“It was so fucking hot.”

“I want you to come, too.”

“How?”

I realize suddenly that she’s not in charge here.

No one is.

There’s no top, no bottom, just two women.

Just us.

Here I can be anyone I want to be. I can be soft or sexy or sweet. I can be everything in-between. I can be wild and passionate and gentle.

I can be hers.

Oh, I can just be hers.

“Please,” she says. “I want to come.”

“How do you like to come?” I ask again. “You want me to use my mouth on you, baby?”

She nods. I’m glad. I want that, too. I want to taste her soft, sweet pussy. I want to feel her wetness on my face. I want to lose myself in her for a little while.

We stand, and I kiss her as I undress her. Layer by layer, she loses the shirt, the skirt, the heels. She loses the bra, the panties. She loses everything except for the heat of the moment. We both feel that so damn much that it’s wild.

I kiss her, tugging her even closer. Now her breasts are pressed against me.

“You still have all your clothes on,” she says.

“This is about you.”

Slowly, I kiss my way down her neck, making my way over her nipples. I kiss each one, sucking and nipping, and then I press my mouth to her belly.

“You’re so fucking perfect,” I say.

“Stop,” she says.

“You are.”

“I don’t think I’m perfect.”

“I do,” I say.

“Why?”

“Look at you.”

I’m kneeling now, and I’m looking up at Hillary. I’m staring at the woman who makes my heart beat faster. I’m looking at the goddess who makes me think that my entire world is going to come crashing down all around me.

I’m falling for the woman I adore.

“You’re gorgeous,” I say. “Look at these beautiful nipples.”

These aren’t the types of things I would normally say. Generally, I’m shy. Nervous. Uncomfortable.

All of the tension is gone with Hillary, though.

With her, I think I’m going to be okay.

With her, I feel fine.

Fierce.

Wild.

With her, I feel alive.

“Spread your legs, baby.”

She steps, opening her legs, and I kneel before her.

“You don’t have to,” she says.

“Who hurt you?” I ask, looking up at her. Suddenly, I realize that I’m not the only person who has a past. Abigail destroyed me. Killed me. Losing her was one of the worst things I’ve ever been through.

I’m okay, though.

I’m strong.

I know a lot about Hillary. I know she likes to laugh. I know she likes vinyl records and rock music. I know she likes to dance when she thinks nobody is looking.

And now, I know she wants to come apart on my lips.

And oh, I want to make her quake.

“A lot of people,” she says.

“And they didn’t like kissing you here?” I trace my finger over her pussy lips, stroking through the wetness. She’s so ready for me.

“No.”

“And now you’re nervous.”

“Yes.”

“Baby, you don’t have to be scared. I promise I’ll be gentle.”

“I...”

But I kiss her on the pussy, and she stops talking.

Instead, she groans.

And that’s when I make her stop worrying.

And that’s when I make her stop feeling uncomfortable.

And that’s the moment where I help her realize that everything’s going to be okay.

I kiss her, licking and sucking and teasing until she comes for me. I can feel her body quaking. I can feel her falling apart for me. A shiver comes, followed by her aching need, and then she throws her head back.

She cries out my name, but I don’t stop licking her until she drops to the floor beside me, and then I kiss her.

“You taste like me,” she says.

“You taste like heaven.”