Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter
Twenty-Three
Dylan had never been so thankful to be in a small town. If they’d been in LA—especially if they’d been at the beach—it would’ve taken an hour to get back to her Silver Lake house, and most likely, traffic would’ve been very, very cruel. In Clover Lake, the walk from Mirror Cove to the house she was renting was relatively short, though still plenty torturous.
She held Ramona’s hand the whole way, thankful for the shade of darkness as they hurried through the woods. She didn’t want to think of anyone else. Not cameras or Rayna or her reputation or the fact that Gia was properly pissed at her for how distracted she was on set again.
She just wanted this.
Ramona Riley’s hand in hers.
“Wait, wait,” Ramona said, pulling them to a stop in the middle of the trail.
“Wait?” Dylan asked, laughing. “Exact opposite of what I’m thinking right now.”
Ramona smiled, but then waved her free hand through the air. “It’s Moon Lover’s Trail.”
Dylan blinked, but then the name came back to her. “Number two on the list.”
“And here we are,” Ramona said, “under a full moon.”
Dylan looked around—it was lovely. The trail widened at this point, almost like a tiny alcove in the woods, trees on all sides, the rest of the trail narrowing ahead of them. The moon sprinkled silver over the entire space, making everything look a little magic.
“Here we are,” Dylan said, then pulled Ramona closer and kissed her. She kissed her long and deep, hands sliding down Ramona’s ass. She meant it to be a little more romantic than an ass grab, but god, Ramona drove her crazy.
“Not exactly what I had in mind when I put it on the list,” Ramona said as she pulled back, her voice gloriously breathless. “But I’ll definitely take it.”
“Same,” Dylan said, then kissed her again. Ramona groaned, her thigh hooking around Dylan’s hip.
“God,” Ramona said, gasping into Dylan’s mouth.
“Yeah,” Dylan managed, biting her bottom lip and pulling her closer. She was so soft, flawless, her curves fitting Dylan’s hands perfectly, like Ramona was made for her, for this moment. “I need to get you home.”
“Not home,” Ramona said, hands scraping through Dylan’s hair.
“I mean my home,” Dylan said, mouth trailing down Ramona’s neck. She smelled like summer, like grass and lemons and starlight, whatever the hell that smelled like, but it felt right. Everything with Ramona felt right.
“Bed,” she said. “I need to get you to a bed.”
“Then get me there,” Ramona said, breathless, and god, she was everything.
Dylan groaned against her neck, then forced herself to stop, laced their fingers together again, and all but took off running.
Ramona laughed, running with her, and by the time they scrambled through the town and up the front steps of Dylan’s little mint-green bungalow at the edge of the lake, Dylan was very, very close to ripping off Ramona’s clothes and taking her right there on the porch.
She unlocked the door and let them inside. The room was mostly dark, lit only by the light above the stove in the open kitchen, the full moon streaming in through the windows. All the furniture and art on the walls looked metallic in the silvery glow.
“Do you want something to drink?” Dylan asked, setting down her keys on the glass-and-teak end table by the sofa. “Or eat?”
Ramona just smiled at her. Laughed lightly, like a bell tinkling. “Yeah,” she said softly, but then she took Dylan’s hand and led her toward the hallway, weaving past the closed doors until she found the main bedroom at the end of the hall, which was clearly Dylan’s from the unmade bed and suitcase that looked like it had exploded all over the room.
Dylan felt a swell of nerves as they entered the room. It wasn’t like she didn’t know what she was doing in the bedroom—she was pretty experienced with people who had vaginas, but this was…
Well, it was Ramona.
It was Cherry .
And it was the first time, and Dylan was always a little nervous the first time. Her last first time had been with Jocelyn, of course, over a year ago, and Jocelyn was such a dominant top, Dylan barely had to make any decisions at all.
Which she liked.
But she also liked being the one who called the shots. When it came to sex, she’d known she was a switch for a long time, she just hadn’t had the opportunity to top anyone in a while. Before Jocelyn, there was Jackson, and he was a bit of a top himself, a little too I’m a man for her taste. And now with Ramona standing in front of the bed, so soft and sweet and, Jesus, so, so sexy, Dylan knew exactly what her taste was.
Exactly what she wanted.
Whom she wanted.
And god, Ramona was gorgeous. She just wanted to lay her out on the bed and look at her. Study her like a work of art.
“So…” Ramona said, drawing closer, her hand still holding Dylan’s. She twisted up her mouth, shy, and so fucking cute Dylan had to grin.
“So,” Dylan said, then pulled Ramona into her arms. She tucked a piece of hair behind Ramona’s ear, kissed her once. “Can I tell you what I want?”
Ramona sucked in a breath. “God, yeah.”
“And you tell me if I ask for anything you don’t like, okay?” Dylan said. “I want to know what you want too.”
Ramona just nodded, bit that perfect bottom lip of hers.
Dylan and Jocelyn had safe words, traffic light words, really— red for stop and yellow for slow and green for go—and Dylan always liked that. She appreciated that Jocelyn, so bossy and in charge in the bedroom, made space for Dylan’s comfort. Sexually, she’d learned a lot from Jocelyn, despite the awful way it ended, despite the fact that Dylan had no idea whether Jocelyn ever really liked her for her , or just what Jack Monroe could give her.
Still, as she stood in her moonlit bedroom, Ramona in her arms, she wanted to give the same to Ramona. Make space, even if they didn’t end up needing any safe words or had the most vanilla sex in the world—vanilla sex with Ramona would be amazing, she had no doubt.
“Can we talk about some safe words, then?” Dylan asked.
Ramona’s brows went up. “Yeah. Absolutely.”
Dylan nodded, then explained about the stoplight words. She felt her cheeks warm as she did so, not because she was embarrassed, but because she couldn’t help but picture Ramona’s head tilted back, her lovely throat exposed, crying out, Green, green, green , while Dylan made her come.
Jesus, she was sweating.
“That sounds perfect,” Ramona said. Then slipped her fingers under Dylan’s tee. “Now can I please take this shirt off?”
Dylan laughed. “Green.”
Ramona smiled, then lifted Dylan’s tee above her head, threw it in a corner. The ceiling fan was on, cooling Dylan’s heated skin. She had on a lacy blush-pink bralette that was a touch too small, her C-cup breasts spilling over the top. Ramona drifted her fingers over her skin, slid a thumb down to Dylan’s already peaked nipple.
Dylan couldn’t stop the moan that came out of her mouth but tried to focus. “Your turn,” she said, playing with the top button of Ramona’s blouse.
“Very green,” Ramona said.
Dylan made quick work of the shirt, spreading it wide to reveal Ramona’s black bra with the scalloped edging. Her tits were large and perfect, and Dylan wanted them in her mouth immediately.
But.
She wanted something else first.
“I want you to show me what you like,” she said, fingertips drifting over Ramona’s collarbone.
Ramona tilted her head. “Show you…”
“Show me.” Dylan pulled Ramona’s blouse off all the way, let it drop to the floor. “And I’ll show you.”
Ramona looked at her for a second, then realization seemed to dawn. Dylan’s face flamed even hotter, but god, she wanted this. She wanted to see Ramona spread out on that bed, and study exactly how she liked to be touched, hear her come while Dylan’s fingers played in her own wet heat.
Ramona unbuttoned her shorts, pulled the zipper down, let them drop to the floor before she stepped out of them. She leaned forward then, kissed Dylan, opened her mouth and slid her tongue inside, swirling it in a way that made Dylan groan.
She pulled back, whispered, “Green,” against Dylan’s mouth. Then—god, then —she turned around and crawled onto the bed, hands and knees, her ample ass moving away from Dylan when all Dylan wanted was to get her teeth into that flesh. Her underwear was plain, light blue cotton and the sexiest thing Dylan had ever seen.
Ramona kept crawling until she reached the fabric headboard, then pushed up to her knees.
“Jesus,” Dylan said.
Ramona looked at her over her shoulder. Dylan didn’t even think she meant to look so fucking sexy, but she did. She certainly did.
“What?” Ramona asked as she grabbed a pillow.
“You’re perfect,” Dylan said.
Ramona smiled, then adjusted the pillows before turning and settling down on the bed, half sitting up against the headboard. Dylan stood at the end of the bed, slack-jawed as Ramona stared back at her.
Then…Ramona started to touch herself.
Slowly.
Just a hand sliding down her throat to her collarbone, but dear god, she was beautiful.
“Ramona,” Dylan said. It was all she could say, her brain short-circuiting as Ramona’s fingers dipped into her deep cleavage, then over to cup her full breast. Soon both hands were on her tits, and Dylan could see her hardened nipples through her bra.
“Pinch your nipples,” Dylan said softly, and Ramona did. Let out a little moan as she did so. “Fuck.” Dylan felt her cunt flood, so wet and ready.
“Will you take off your bra for me?” Ramona asked. “Please.”
Dylan smiled. “So polite.”
“I know who’s in charge here.”
Dylan had to press her legs together, because god. This woman. “You first.”
Ramona smiled, sat up a little to unhook her bra. The material fell away and Jesus Christ. Her tits were perfect. Heavy and round, her nipples rosebud pink and hard.
Dylan watched her fingers play—pluck and pinch and roll—and she was nearly panting as she pulled her own bra over her head, her tits swaying with the movement. Ramona’s eyes roamed over her, mouth open a little.
“Will you touch yourself for me too?” Ramona asked.
“Yeah?”
“Yes,” Ramona said. “Please.”
There was a little whine to her voice, and Dylan couldn’t have said no if she’d wanted to.
And she definitely didn’t want to.
She unbuttoned her jeans, shucked them off so fast, she nearly tripped getting them off her feet.
Ramona laughed sweetly. “Easy, tiger.”
“Rawr,” Dylan said, and Ramona laughed even more. But soon the laughing stopped when Dylan put one knee on the bed. Her underwear wasn’t exactly her sexiest—a pair of white hipsters with tiny rainbow tacos all over them, a random purchase from the internet because she thought they were queer and funny. She had no idea this was how her day would end—quite the opposite, actually. Still, Ramona’s mouth dropped open a bit, her eyes finding the space between Dylan’s legs, then lifting to her tits again.
“You’re gorgeous,” Ramona said.
Dylan smiled, lifted her other leg to the bed so she was on her knees, then trailed a hand up her thigh. She needed to touch herself like this too, needed something while she watched Ramona continue to feel herself up, hands gliding over her skin.
Dylan scooted closer, staying on her knees, then sitting back on her heels. She heard Ramona’s breath catch as she opened her legs as wide as they’d go.
“You like that,” Dylan said. Not a question. Ramona just swallowed, nodded, her eyes flitting from Dylan’s chest to her cunt, back and forth. “Spread your legs for me.”
Ramona obeyed, her mouth slightly open, hands still on her tits. Her knees parted, and Dylan groaned at the sight before her—Ramona’s pussy, still covered by her underwear, a wet spot at the center.
“Fuck,” Dylan said. “I need you to touch your cunt. Like, immediately.”
“Thank god,” Ramona said, then slid one hand down her soft stomach, over her mound and underwear.
“Exactly like you want it, baby girl,” Dylan said, transfixed by where that hand was going next.
“God,” Ramona said, her back arching a little. “I really like that.”
“Oh, yeah?” Dylan said. She put one hand on Ramona’s knee, making her gasp.
“Yeah,” Ramona said, her voice breathy, raspy. “Please.”
“Show me, Ramona,” she said. “Show me how you like to be fucked.”
Ramona moaned as her fingers dipped lower, spread over her pussy, fingers rubbing and curling. Dylan watched, her pulse like a hummingbird’s wings, her own cunt throbbing. Ramona’s fingers moved over that wet spot, and Dylan wanted to press her nose there, her tongue, make it wetter.
“God,” she said. “You look so good.”
Ramona’s breath quickened as she rubbed harder. “I need…”
“Tell me,” Dylan said. “What do you need, baby?”
“More,” she said, her voice desperate now.
Dylan reached over Ramona, swiped her thumbs over the skin above her underwear. Ramona groaned, and Dylan hooked her fingers into Ramona’s waistband, then tugged her underwear down her legs. Ramona had to stop touching herself for a second to get them off, but holy shit was it worth it.
Dylan tossed the undies into the dark, then spread Ramona’s legs again, pushing her knees wide.
“Fuck,” she said. Ramona’s cunt was gorgeous. Hair trimmed, but still present, a dark scattering of curls over a soaked pussy. She took Ramona’s hand, placed it on those wet lips again. “Keep going.”
“I need you,” Ramona rasped, her fingers starting to move. “Please, Dylan, touch yourself for me too.”
Dylan angled to take off her own underwear—who was she to deny Ramona anything she wanted—then situated back on her heels, legs spread as wide as they’d go.
“Oh my god,” Ramona said, rubbing harder. “Please.”
Dylan set one hand back on Ramona’s knee, then slid her fingers into her own folds.
“God, I’m wet,” she said.
“Good,” Ramona said, her fingers dipping inside herself. “Please, show me, Dylan.”
Dylan watched Ramona’s fingers fuck herself—two, and slow at first, getting faster as she got more needy. Dylan slid fingertips down her own cunt, then back up, spreading her wetness to her clit. She liked it gentle at first, using her pussy lips to stimulate her clit.
She arched back, gripped Ramona’s knee even tighter, spreading her wider. “Fuck. Baby. You look amazing.”
“Yeah,” Ramona said, her fingers moving quicker. “Dylan, god.”
Dylan couldn’t take it—she nearly came just from her name on Ramona’s tongue, rubbing her clit faster, circling and pressing just like she needed. Ramona watched her, mouth open, breathing heavily.
“Oh my god,” she said. “I’m gonna—”
“Do it,” Dylan said. “Come for me, baby girl.”
“Fuck,” Ramona yelled, her tits bouncing as she fucked herself harder. She was gorgeous, crying out as she came, her body tensing and undulating.
“Fuck, Ramona,” Dylan said, her own fingers working desperately, her orgasm building as she watched Ramona writhe and moan, fingers deep inside her cunt.
She dipped inside herself, and that’s when it hit her, hard and fast, almost a surprise. She nearly fell over from the force of it, gripping Ramona’s knee, hand sliding down her thigh as Dylan curled over herself, fuck, fuck, fuck falling out of her mouth over and over, her own legs clenching around her hand. She heard Ramona come again, her free hand gripping Dylan’s until they both settled, breathing hard.
Dylan met Ramona’s eyes, which were glazed and blinking slowly, both of their mouths still open to get as much oxygen as they could.
“That was…” Ramona said.
“Yeah,” Dylan said. “It was.” She scooted back for a second, but only so she could lie on her stomach, spread Ramona’s legs even farther apart. “And I’m not nearly finished with you yet.”