Chapter 7 The Farm #2
Lola stepped into her space, crowding her against the counter. Heat shocked through her. Sometimes she forgot how assertive her wife could get, and how much bigger she felt when she was peering down at her like she wanted to eat her alive.
“Is that so?” Lola asked.
When her lips settled over Calliope’s this time, the kiss was far dirtier than the ones in the shower. Strong arms came around her, picking her up and setting her on the counter.
“Yeah,” Calliope said breathlessly, her heartbeat throbbing between her legs. She tugged the shower cap from Lola’s head, letting her beaded hair spill around her shoulders. “Anything you want to eat.”
Lola’s voice dropped to that low seductive tone, the one she used to unravel Calliope like a cheap sweater.
“Anything I want to eat?” she asked, soft hands firmly separating Calliope’s thighs, palm sliding up, up, up until she gasped, her whole body jolting. Lola pulled back to look her in the eye as her fingers slipped inside. “The only thing I’m hungry for is right here. It’s hot and everything.”
If anyone else had said that to her, she might have rolled her eyes, but those words dripping off Lola’s tongue with her clever fingers touching her just how she liked it, had her whimpering.
Her arms slid around Lola’s neck, pulling her back in, hooking her legs over her hips to give her better access even as she said, “We can’t. The kids are right outside.”
Lola didn’t stop, her lips brushing her jaw before dipping lower to kiss over her fluttering pulse. “How many nights have we endured them fucking in our spare bedroom?”
Her fingers twisted, her thumb sliding between her folds to settle right where she needed it most. Calliope’s breath caught, her eyes rolling back behind half-closed lids.
She had a point.
She had a very good point.
An excellent one, really.
She fell back on her hands, her hips rocking forward of their own accord. “Oh, fuck.”
“You’re so easy,” Lola taunted, her voice practically purring. “Think I can make you come on my fingers before your son is screaming for breakfast again?”
Calliope’s gaze caught hers, biting her lip before she said, “I thought you said you were hungry.”
Lola arched a brow. “Oh, it’s like that, huh?”
She sank to her knees before she could respond, beckoning Calliope closer until she was not so much perched on the counter as resting against it. Lola lifted Calliope’s leg, placing it over her shoulder as she mouthed along her thigh, tongue dragging along the wetness already clinging to her skin.
“You always taste so fucking good,” Lola said, her breath hot against her. “You smell good too.”
Calliope swallowed down the sound fighting its way out her throat as Lola traced her tongue between her folds with excruciating precision, dipping lower with each pass, giving her just enough to tease, but not enough to satisfy.
Calliope made a noise of frustration.
On the next pass, Lola probed deeper, her nose pressing against Calliope’s swollen clit as her tongue slipped inside, like she couldn’t help herself. Calliope gasped, heat surging inside, greedy and insistent, cunt throbbing with her need for more.
“Baby, please,” she begged. “We don’t have much time. You know what I want.”
“So demanding,” Lola chastised as she pulled back, gazing up at her, breathing labored like a diver resurfacing. When Calliope pouted, her wife took pity on her, pressing a kiss to her pubic bone before diving back in with purpose.
“Oh, sweet fucking hell,” she gasped as Lola’s lips closed around her clit, sucking insistently. Calliope’s toes curled, squirming beneath her. “Oh, yeah, do that more,” she panted, her hand resting on Lola’s head, not pushing, just needing to touch her somehow. “Please, please, please.”
Lola hummed, the vibration making Calliope gasp, her belly clenching, aching for more, her hips rocking forward, her body acting almost against her will. Lola liked to tease, liked to play, liked to draw things out, edging Calliope until she was in tears, so far gone she’d do anything.
But not today.
There was no time.
Lola reverted back to lapping at her clit with that broad steady pressure, the tempo better than any toy she’d ever had. It was maddening. It was heaven. She was drowning in a pool of her own longing.
Every touch of her tongue set off a chain reaction in her body until she was biting her lip just to stay quiet.
But the longer it went on, the less she cared about who was on the other side of the door.
Fire licked at her insides. Her thighs tightened as she fought to stay still beneath her wife’s nimble fucking tongue. After a while, she couldn’t stop herself from pressing into her mouth, greedy for the climax building with every pass.
Lola ate her like she was starving, like she was ice cream, dripping and sweet, until Calliope was panting, hips rolling as she tried to put the pressure just where she wanted it. But Lola never let her take control, forever steady as a metronome, letting Calliope only have what she was given.
Fuck. Fuck.
She couldn’t take much more. If they were alone, she would have been begging, pleading, offering up anything for Lola to just give her what she needed.
Instead, she was holding it in. Her thighs were shaking, her body hot all over, but not from the shower or the steam of the bathroom, from Lola’s sensual torture.
But no matter how much she whined or whimpered or quietly begged, Lola’s tongue never faltered, not even as she slid three fingers inside, applying just the right pressure from all sides.
“Jesus Christ,” Calliope whispered, her hips grinding down against her will, her knee threatening to buckle. “Baby, please.”
She fought the scream climbing up her throat as Lola picked up the pace of her thrusts all the while never easing the relentless pressure on her clit.
“Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck. How are you always so fucking good at this?” she asked, her voice climbing.
She was losing herself, unable to stop her low cries or the way she fucked herself on Lola’s fingers while she tried to grind herself onto the soft muscle of her tongue.
“I’m so close, please don’t stop,” she begged, her nerves lighting up like fireworks.
Lola crooked her fingers, switching from that persistent licking to deep sucking.
That was all it took.
Calliope sank her teeth into her own palm, spine arching, her cunt clenching around Lola’s fingers as her release pulsed through her, her whole body shaking as she fought to stay quiet.
Lola removed her mouth, but kept her fingers there, letting her ride the waves of the aftershocks that twitched through her, planting chaste kisses on her hip, her belly, wherever her mouth could reach.
By the time her hand slipped free, Calliope’s legs felt like they were made of jelly.
Lola stood, face damp, eyes bright, towel just how she’d left it, regal as a fucking queen.
Calliope drew her in, kissing her slow and deep, sucking the taste of herself from Lola’s tongue with a quiet moan. When they broke apart, she found Lola looking at her like she was the lucky one and not the other way around.
“Fix your face,” she teased gently, pushing Calliope’s wet hair behind her ears. “You look wrecked.”
“I am wrecked,” she admitted. “You wrecked me. You always do. Every time.”
Lola smiled, kissing her slowly once more before asking, “Want me to blow dry your hair for you?”
Calliope let her eyes rake over her wife’s towel clad form. “You don’t want me to return the favor?”
“Oh, I do. But later, when we’re alone in our room at Thomas’s, where the walls aren’t made of hopes and dreams,” Lola said.
“”Should I dip into the toy box?” Calliope offered. “Pack some extras?”
Lola nodded. “Mm, surprise me.”
Dimitri’s voice cut through their afterglow like a samurai sword, sharp and final. “Mom,” he called again dramatically. “Please, it’s Christmas Eve and we’re starving.”
“We are not,” Arlo called after him.
“Well, maybe a little,” Cricket added…from somewhere.
The walls were too thin in this place.
Calliope made a sad noise as Lola slipped her fingers free, locking eyes with her before sliding them into her own mouth, sucking the taste of her off her fingers.
The deliberate slowness of it felt cruel in the most intimate way, a promise dangled just out of reach.
“You’re evil,” Calliope said, swallowing loudly, her pulse still racing, heat curling low in her belly.
“You’re delicious,” Lola countered with a wink, unrepentant.
“To be continued,” Calliope muttered, half a threat, half a plea.
“Oh, most definitely.”
They left their bathroom, both of them dressing while staring longingly at the other. The air still felt warm and damp, scented faintly with soap and skin, clinging to them like an echo. Calliope now uncomfortably horny and unsatisfied, Lola smug and gloating.
She groaned when Lola dropped her towel, bending down to slide on a pair of red panties that showcased the swell of her hips and her generous ass. The sight alone was enough to make Calliope’s hands twitch.“Stop being such a tease.”
Lola’s laugh filled the space like church bells, bright and utterly unapologetic.
They dressed quickly, easy and practiced, bumping into each other in the small bedroom, stealing one more kiss before putting on their clothes. It was the kind of casual intimacy that came from years of knowing exactly how to move around each other without thinking.
Calliope donned a pair of black sweatpants and what was almost certainly Dimitri’s hoodie, the sleeves too long, the fabric soft and lived-in.
Lola dragged on a cropped Christmas sweater and a pair of faded denim overalls.
They had hours to go before they needed to get ready to leave for Thomas’s house but Lola looked festive enough to make Calliope’s heart do a little dance behind her ribs.
She loved this time of year. She loved her life.
She loved her family. Everything. She was just… happy.