Chapter 36 Two Days till Christmas
36.
Two days till Christmas
The early days of Liz’s sex life with Noah were defined less by desire and more by anxiety. Liz was overly conscious of her body, its unpredictable smells and sounds. She was paranoid about being too noisy. Her ex loved getting blow jobs but never showed much enthusiasm for returning the favor, so Liz stopped initiating. There were some early moments of passion, but sex quickly became routine. After Noah, Liz was in her thirties when it clicked that she didn’t really enjoy sex with men. It was often a dissociative experience, focused around their pleasure, their needs. It didn’t turn her on.
Violet turned her on. Every look, every touch, even the simple ones in passing. For so long, Liz had been fighting the way Violet made her feel, but now that she’d stopped, Liz was living in a single-minded sensory fog. A fog that made her want to touch and be touched. Give pleasure. Receive pleasure. This was lust, she realized, feeling both painfully naive and very excited. This feeling was lust. Alone in the shower, she’d only have to press between her legs for a second to summon hot waves of pleasure, at the thought of Violet doing just about anything.
They made out in the Barn’s kitchenette. In the hot tub, under the stars. Behind the woodshed as snow fell like confetti. “Oh my gosh.” Liz pulled back in amazement, gazing at the whirling white flakes. “This is a snowy, swoony moment. I’m having a snowy, swoony moment!”
Violet giggled, confused but not caring, and pulled her close. “Let’s hang out tonight,” she murmured, peeking up at Liz through lowered lashes. “In my room.”
The sound of her murmur and the meaning behind it gave Liz full-body shudders.
—
That night, Liz showered then slipped on her black silk dressing gown. Her pulse tapped an urgent beat at the thought of touching Violet in the way she hadn’t yet. Discovering what Violet looked like when she lost all control.
Liz’s underwear was already damp by the time she knocked softly on Violet’s door, breathless with anticipation.
A lilting voice sounded from inside. “It’s open.”
Violet’s bedroom was lamplit. A few candles flickered, filling the air with the scent of cherry and leather and plum. Violet stood in the middle of the room. Her head was cocked, blond hair loose around her shoulders. A teasing smile played on her bare lips. “Hi.”
Violet was wearing her Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles T-shirt and the white lace panties she’d taken such delight in unpacking the first day she arrived at Belvedere Inn.
Liz got woozy. Warm. Wet, as if her entire body had turned into honey. “Uh—oh—wow.”
“So eloquent.” Violet slinked forward.
Liz’s heart was pounding. She’d never seduced anyone and certainly had never been seduced herself. She understood the wonderful helplessness of it. To be the target of someone you wanted, who also wanted you.
Violet pushed Liz back onto the velvet love seat by the window. Liz went willingly, legs collapsing underneath her. Finally, finally, she could stare at the shirt. The stretch of thin material over Violet’s full, beautiful breasts. The outline of each nipple. The left one was under Michelangelo’s smiling green face, the right at the tip of Donatello’s staff.
Violet stood over her, pleased. “You like the shirt.”
Liz tried to swallow, unsure what to do with her hands. “How can you tell?”
“You start blushing whenever I have it on.”
Liz almost laughed, but she was too tongue-tied. Too turned on.
Violet dropped to straddle her, her bare thighs pressing against the silky fabric of Liz’s dressing gown. Then Violet lowered her mouth and kissed her. It wasn’t careful, sweet kissing. It was untamed and hungry. It was pedaling her bike as fast as she could as a kid, zooming downhill without a helmet. It was seeing the aurora borealis, beautiful dancing waves of ethereal green light. Realizing how full the world was of magic and wonder, if you just had the courage to seek it out.
Noises of need she couldn’t control escaped Liz’s throat. She dropped her hands to cup Violet’s breasts, running her thumbs back and forth over the sensitive points of her nipples. Her breasts were as soft and heavy as summer fruit, unexpected August on this December night. Violet arched her back, urging Liz on. “That feels amazing,” she panted. “Touch me, Lizzie. I want you to.”
They rocked against each other, creating delicious friction. Liz felt the soft scratch of Vi’s white lace thong rubbing against her aching center, again and again and again. Every time, a lightning bolt of heat. She was already so wet. Liz moaned. She dropped her hands to squeeze Vi’s bare ass cheeks, kneading the curves of her flesh. “God, Vi. You’re so fucking beautiful.”
“I think you’re fucking beautiful.” Violet held Liz’s face in her hands, thumbs on her cheekbones, and pressed their mouths together. Liz closed her eyes, lost in the ebb and flow of Violet’s lips and skin and breath.
She could do this forever. Touch this woman forever. Smell her spicy-sweet smell forever. Then Violet pushed up against Liz, her thigh between Liz’s legs, and Liz was rocketed back into her body and all its pent-up heat.
Violet pulled them up until they were standing. She tugged at the cord of Liz’s dressing gown. It slipped off her shoulders, pooling at her feet. Liz stood in just her underwear. Violet let out a breath of pleased discovery. “You’re a goddess.”
And Liz didn’t even think to bat the compliment away because Violet was kneeling on the love seat and taking one of Liz’s nipples in her mouth.
Pleasure avalanched through Liz’s body, a crash of heat. The feeling of Violet’s tongue, warm and wet, sucking on her breast, centered everything Liz was feeling. It was so intense, Liz’s knees almost buckled. She liked having her breasts touched, but comparing those past experiences to this was like comparing a child’s drawing to a Klimt. Around and around went Violet’s tongue, circling Liz’s tight, hard nipples.
Liz’s vision wavered, the room falling away. “Oh god,” she heard herself gasping, over and over again. “Oh god. ”
Vi pulled back. Her pupils were dilated, mouth damp. “Bed.” Vi pointed at it. “Now.”
A moment later, Liz was on the neatly made king bed, propping herself up on her elbows, her vision still spinning. The sheets smelled like Violet, intensifying the need to touch her.
Violet crawled up until she was kneeling between Liz’s legs. She leaned forward, her blond hair mussed. She hooked her fingers around Liz’s underwear. “Can I?”
Liz nodded, shifting her weight.
Slowly, so very slowly, Violet eased Liz’s underwear off until Liz lay bare on the bed.
Violet nudged Liz’s thighs apart and gazed between her legs, her expression reverential. “Oh wow,” she breathed. “You’re perfect.”
Ordinarily, Liz would feel shy, a little too hairy, a little too exposed. But all those insecurities and doubts were gone. She didn’t feel timid. She felt powerful.
Violet’s voice was husky, her eyes low-lidded. “Can I go down on you?”
Liz felt like a volcano ready to go off. “Yes.”
Violet wiggled down between Liz’s legs. Liz’s muscles tensed and untensed in anticipation. She held her breath. Closed her eyes. And then Violet’s warm mouth was on her, touching her in the place she needed to be touched.
Liz let out a gasp, then a groan, then another gasp. “Oh fuck. ” The feeling of Violet’s strong, hot tongue teasing and stroking her swollen clit was the most intense pleasure she’d ever felt. Shock waves of pure sensation were racing up her back, down her legs, building in intensity. “Oh god. ” She was no longer a person. She was pure feeling.
Panting hard, Liz managed to crack an eye. The visual of Violet, still in the T-shirt and the white thong, head bobbing as she ran her tongue back and forth, almost sent Liz over the edge. She was no longer conscious of the words and cries tumbling out of her mouth. She was approaching the peak, a tight, hot pinnacle of pleasure. Her stomach muscles tensed. Her vision went black.
Liz came against Violet’s mouth. Against her tongue and her teeth and her breath, the peak not fading but somehow intensifying. It was almost too much. Liz was sweating and writhing and gasping and yelling, again and again and again. “Oh god! Oh god! Oh god !”
Finally the feeling began to subside. Aftershocks jerked her limbs like a puppet on a string as Liz settled back into herself, piece by piece.
The candlelit room. The cozy bed. The beautiful girl lying next to her, wiping her mouth and grinning.
Liz felt like she’d jumped out of a plane to land splat on the mattress. She rubbed her face in a daze. It took her several long moments to remember how to talk. “Wh-What just happened?”
Violet giggled, dropping a salty-sweet kiss on her mouth.
The feeling of Vi, still in the T-shirt and thong, helped reality firm up. Liz gazed at her, amazed. “That was—I didn’t even know—like, I literally didn’t even know—” She heard herself and laughed. “I’m a writer and I can’t string a sentence together.”
“Take your time.”
Liz propped herself onto her side to face Violet. “That was the most incredible thing that has ever and will ever happen to me. You are a wizard. A maestro. Someone needs to make a statue of you.”
Violet laughed in delight. “Well, it certainly sounded like you enjoyed it.”
Sounded? Oh: she’d been loud. She’d been loud in her mother’s house. She’d been loud in her mother’s house with all her family. Liz had never lost control like that. Liz had been yelling. A lot. “Oh, boy.” Everyone was home. Everyone would’ve heard. “I am never gonna live that down.”
“We can try to be more quiet,” Vi suggested, skimming her fingers over Liz’s breasts.
“No.” Liz’s response was certain. She could handle being teased. A part of her was looking forward to it. But that wasn’t important right now. “It’s your turn.”
Reenergized, Liz scrambled to kneel on the bed, picking up Violet’s legs to place them over her own shoulders, admiring the shape of Vi’s calves. The possibilities were endless. “What do you like? I take direction very well.”
Violet smiled, eyes bright. “I’d always hoped we’d have this conversation one day.”
Liz wiggled forward until she was lying on top of Vi. She couldn’t wait to take the T-shirt off, but there was something undeniably hot about being bare naked while Vi was still partially clothed. “Tell me everything.”
Violet explained what she liked. Fingers. G-spot. The palm-sized vibrator, already on the bedside table. Liz had never talked this openly with a bedmate. In the past, it had struck her as awkward or clinical. But now it seemed practical, and everything Violet was describing sounded unbelievably sexy. Just hearing about it made Liz certain she could come again, and soon.
When Violet finished speaking, she flipped Liz onto her back to straddle her. Violet leaned down to kiss her, their tongues brushing, playing. Then Violet grasped the bottom of her Turtles tee. With a degree of theatricality, she pulled it up, over her head.
Violet had shot plenty of scenes and photographs in lingerie, but Liz had never seen Violet’s breasts. They were milky curves, soft flesh. Her nipples were the color of apricots. She was a painting. A symphony. Liz shifted up until they were both sitting, legs wrapped around each other. She kissed Violet’s mouth, then her breasts, taking her time, enjoying every scrape of teeth against nipple, every tiny whimper, every moan. Then she pushed Violet back until she was lying on the bed. Liz hooked her thumbs around the sides of the white thong. The beautiful piece of snow-white lace she fell asleep thinking about every night. Carefully, Liz peeled the underwear off. Over the curve of Violet’s hips. Past her thighs. Around her ankles.
For a long, breathless moment, Liz gazed at the naked woman lying on the bed, her curves lit only by candlelight, her smile an invitation. Liz was a storyteller by trade—had written countless scripts, created entire worlds. They all paled in comparison to this. Violet was true art.
Liz started in the way Violet had instructed: kissing Vi’s breasts, sucking her erect nipples.
“Oh, Liz. ” Violet spoke her name on an exhale, hands fisting Liz’s hair. “ Liz. ”
The sound of her name falling out of Violet’s mouth as a pant, a plea, drove Liz even more crazy. She slipped her fingers down between Violet’s legs, inhaling with pleasure. “You’re so wet.”
Violet moaned in response, whimpering as Liz started to circle her sensitive clit. In this moment, Liz was the maestro, able to pay attention to the tempo and adjust accordingly. Being pleasured was wonderful, but giving pleasure was just as good. It made Liz feel like a god. Expansive and powerful. And like a goddess, in touch with some sort of mysterious female divine.
“Fingers,” Violet begged. “Please.”
It was a pleasure to obey. Still teasing Violet’s nipple with her tongue, Liz slipped two then three fingers inside Violet. She was so slick. So warm and tight. Liz could barely get the words out as she started fucking Violet with her hand. “God, you feel so good.”
Violet groaned, reaching for the vibrator to press it against her clit. “Faster. Yes. Yes. ” She started to buck and writhe, and Liz pumped and curved her fingers, pushing against her G-spot. “Yes. Yes. Yes. ”
Liz didn’t just hear and see Violet’s pleasure. She felt it, in the pulsing tightness enveloping her fingers.
Liz had never seen anything so mesmerizing as Violet coming apart, face flushed, hair splayed, eyes wild. Liz had to press the vibrator against herself for only a moment to summon a second orgasm, just as powerful as the first. Her cries mixed with Violet’s as they climaxed together, their shouts peaking then slowly starting to quiet.
Violet opened her eyes and smiled. The real one, the one that wrinkled the bridge of her nose. Liz felt impossibly happy. She was locked into Violet’s orbit, circling her like a moon. She never wanted to stop. I’m a goner, Liz thought, as Violet pulled their mouths together into a sweaty, laughing kiss.