Chapter 8
Evie
When she comes back in I’m still on the sofa with my phone in my hand.
“Everything okay with the dogs?” I ask her.
She peels her flannel off and shakes the rain out of her beanie, smoothing a hand over her hair. “Yeah, all good. Did you get a call? Was it about not making it back to Davis for work?”
“No, that’s all been handled through email. I, uh, talked to Gretchen. Is that weird? I know you’re her boss.”
“She was your best friend first. I’m not about to take that away from you—or to stop seeing you—just because she works for me. If I feel it’s necessary I’ll meet with Gretchen and talk to her, but she seems pretty chill.”
“She definitely is.”
“Okay, omelet time, then we decorate. Need more coffee?”
“No thanks. But can I help?”
“How about you slice some mushrooms for me? And maybe a few leeks?”
“Sure. Let me just go put some clothes on.”
Working next to her in the kitchen feels so natural. Music is playing in the background, some older EDM we both love, and she dances a little as she works.
“We haven’t been dancing in forever,” I tell her, washing the mushrooms in the sink.
“We haven’t. There aren’t any permanent lesbian clubs in San Francisco these days, except for Jolene’s. I haven’t been yet, but I hear the vibe is good.”
“Are we too old to go dance at the lesbian club?”
“Baby, you’re only, what? Thirty-six? And I’m not forty until January, but even then, we can dance when and where we want to. And I’ve heard it’s a pretty diverse crowd. Should be fine. But meanwhile…”
She puts down the knife she’s been using to mince chives, wipes her hands on a dishtowel, and takes me in her arms, her hips swaying right up against mine, and we dance around the kitchen to one of my favorite Disclosure songs, You and Me.
We’re meant to be the song says, and I feel so deeply that it’s right.
The song ends and she kisses my forehead before letting me go to return to cooking, leaving me warm and full of emotion. It’s a little scary, but I push that edge of fear away.
After we eat, we clean up, which only takes a few minutes, then she goes downstairs to get her holiday decorations, and comes back up carrying a huge plastic tub.
“Wow. You have a lot of ornaments.”
“Yep! Got one more. Be right back.”
She returns shortly with another big tubful, then we sit on the floor in the living room area and open them up, and she pulls out a bundle of white lights.
“I like the white ones so you can see each of the ornaments,” she says. “The colored lights feel like overload to me.”
“No, I get it,” I tell her, my throat going a little tight.
My mom always loved the plain white lights for the same reason.
But I don’t want to open up that Pandora’s box.
Not right now, when I’m feeling so damn happy.
I’ve been feeling so lost in the world since I lost my mom; I don’t want to revisit that sense of being lost right now.
She must have set the tree in the stand while I was napping. It stands now in one corner of the living area, where two huge windows meet. It’s beautiful, making the entire loft smell like a forest in winter. Like Christmas.
“Come help me with the lights,” she says, pulling a step stool over from the kitchen.
The tree really is a good seven feet, and even as tall as Dru is, she couldn’t possibly reach the top without the stool. It takes a little while and some work, but eventually the lights are on, and we dig into the boxes of ornaments. Not surprisingly, many of them are dogs.
“Aw, look, it’s a gray and white pittie. It looks like Sulu and Seven,” I tell her, holding the ceramic dog up.
“It really does. We should go spend some time with them tomorrow—it’s so important for them to be properly socialized if they’re going to be good candidates for adoption. Maybe take them for a Christmas Eve walk if it’s not raining since they haven’t had a ton of leash training yet.”
“Oh, I’d love that!”
She smiles, and there are those dimples again, melting me down to my soul. “Me, too.”
She continues to pull ornaments out, some of them silver and gold glass balls, and some that look like vintage glass in different colors, plus a few made of wood, and a whole collection of birds wearing silly outfits made of felt, plus a bunch of women’s sports-themed ornaments: soccer, basketball, hockey, with what must be her favorite players’ faces and team logos.
She even has a few shaped like tiny books with classic literature titles.
“You know, I think you can probably tell as much about a person from their ornament collection as you can from their bookshelf,” I say as I hang a small metal 1950s truck on a branch.
“Yeah? And what can you tell about me?”
“I just sort of see you all over them. Everything I’ve always known about you, but also, I think you’re a lot more sentimental than you like to let on. Look at this teeny book ornament! It’s The Little Prince. I’ve always loved that book. And this one—is this picture little you?”
Dru takes the ceramic ornament from me, peering at it. “Yeah. I was probably three or four in this one.”
“And you already had dimples.”
“You are obsessed with my dimples, pretty girl.”
“Yeah, I am.”
I’m kind of obsessed with everything about her.
Her kindness. Her gentleness. Her intelligence and competence.
Her hazel eyes that literally see into my soul.
Her dominance in bed, mixed with her willingness to let me reciprocate.
Well, not in the kink sense, of course, but she lets me touch her as much as I want, which is something I haven’t always had.
And the woman exudes sensuality in a way I don’t think I’ve come across in anyone else.
Or maybe that’s just how I feel about it.
I shiver at the thought of touching her. At the way she takes me over so completely, expertly mixing pleasure and pain.
She’s so good, all the way around. Amazing, really. She’s just…everything I could have ever wanted.
Too good?
No, I need to stop that. I shake the thought away and focus on enjoying putting the tree together.
When it’s done she turns all the lights off in the loft, leaving just the sparkly white lights on the tree, and pulls me in close.
“What do you think, baby?”
“I think it’s the most beautiful tree I’ve ever seen in my life.”
“Yeah, I think so, too,” she says, her voice a little rough. “Hang on a sec, okay? I need to go get something.”
Dru
I take the stairs down to the main floor two at a time, and go behind the counter to find the gift I stashed there, then run back upstairs.
And damn, she looks so beautiful and sweet, sitting on her knees under the tree straightening the green plaid tree skirt.
The tree lights are shining on her hair, on her bare shoulder peeking out from her slouchy ivory sweater.
She looks up, smiling at me, and I just fucking melt, a hot pool of love and yearning I can’t deny settling into the center of my body.
This is how she makes me feel, and it’s a feeling I never want to lose. That, and the look in her eyes. I swear they’re shining, and it’s not just the Christmas lights.
I get down on the floor with her and hand her the small wrapped box.
“What is it?” she asks, turning it over in her hands.
“Open it.”
She bites her lip for a moment, then pulls the ribbon off and takes the top off the box, pulling out the silver ornament shaped like a little pitbull.
“Ohhhh,” she breathes quietly.
“Do you like it?” I ask, strangely uncertain. Why does this feel so important?
“I love it. It means…so much.” She looks up at me, her eyes shining even more brightly, and I hope I haven’t made her cry.
“I got it at the tree farm. I thought you should have one that’s your very own.”
“It’s the first ornament of my own,” she says, holding it up to catch the twinkling lights.
“I thought it might be.”
She throws her arms around my neck, coming up on her knees to hug me tight.
“Thank you, Dru,” she says, her voice a little rough.
“You okay, baby?”
“Yeah. I am. It’s just… emotional for me. But I’m good. Really good. I just can’t believe the effort you went to, just to make this special for me. You’re amazing.”
“If I’m going to reintroduce you to Christmas, I need to do it right.”
She pulls back to look into my eyes, and her sparkling gray gaze goes through me like a punch to the gut. But a soft punch that makes my pulse race and my head swim.
Oh, yeah, you’ve got it bad.
I’m going to need to tell her how I feel soon, or my head is going to fucking explode. But meanwhile my arms are full of warm, gently squirming girl who smells good enough to eat, and I think I will.
I kiss her, and her lips are soft and pliant beneath mine.
Her hand slides around the back of my neck, and mine go around her waist, dragging her in closer.
We’re both up on our knees, body to body, but there are too many damn clothes.
I pull back to take the ornament gently from her hand and set it down on the tree skirt, then I slide her sweater off, finding her naked underneath.
My heart pounds like I’ve never seen a woman’s bare breasts before, my pulse running hot in my veins, my pussy filling with need.
She smiles when I unbutton my flannel and take it off, tossing it somewhere behind me, and her lovely smile widens when I pull my sports bra over my head.
She reaches out, keeping her gaze on mine as she takes my tits in her gentle hands, smoothing her palms, then her fingertips, over the skin, and my nipples go rock-hard.
Yes, baby,” I murmur, doing the same to her.
Somehow I manage to get us both out of our shoes and jeans and lay her back on the rug.
Then I have to take a moment to simply take her in.
She’s all soft, luscious curves, her fair skin glowing in the tree lights.
The blue in her hair has faded a bit in the week or so that she’s been here, and she looks like a god damn angel to me.
She raises her arms, inviting me in, and I can’t wait another moment.
I slide over her, covering her, and take her lips again, my tongue sliding inside, and she kisses me back, her hands holding my face.
And soon we’re just making out like teenagers, panting into each other’s mouths, our bodies grinding together.
I am so fucking hot for her, desire spiraling in a way I want to hold onto forever.
But it’s too much. She’s too tempting. I finally break away to kiss my way down her body.
I work her tits with hands and mouth for a while, until her hips are arching up off the floor so hard my own body can barely hold her down.
“Please, Dru,” she begs, sending another jolt through me.
I move lower, and she parts her thighs for me, and I slip my fingers between them, finding her soaking wet.
She moans quietly, then more sharply as I do it again, with more purpose this time. My clit is pulsing, aching so hard I can barely stand it. But I have to make her come first. Have to make her come over and over.
Using my fingers, I spread her plump pink labia, and bend to taste her.
And God, she’s wet as fuck and so juicy and sweet, it makes my head spin.
I lick at her hole, plunge my tongue in, then draw it out while she squirms and moans.
Then I lick my way up to her already-hard little clit, pulling back the hood to expose the tender nerve endings underneath, teasing the tip before I suck on it.
“Ah! Fuck, Dru…yes!”
She comes almost instantly, her hands gripping my shoulders so hard her short nails dig in, but I love every second of it, every shiver and groan, every panting breath. The way she’s left shaking, her eyes glazed.
“Again,” I tell her.
But she pushes against my shoulders.
“Mm-mm. It’s your turn,” she says, her breath still catching.
“You don’t need to think about that yet, baby.”
“But I want to. I need to, Dru. Will you lay down for me?”
“When you look at me like that, I’ll honestly do anything you want right now.”
I help her to sit upright, then I lay on my back, smiling at her, waiting to see what she has in mind.
She gets on her knees and draws her hands over my legs, from the top of my thighs all the way down my calves. When she makes her way back up, she spreads my legs, and I watch her closely, the expression on her face all lustful concentration.
She lays her body over mine and kisses my neck, and I arch my head back, offering her my throat.
She kisses the tender skin there, then bites me a little, and it sends a small shock of desire through me.
She moves lower, cupping my tits in her hands, then immediately goes to work on my nipples so expertly, it’s as if she’s known my body for a hundred years.
We’ve never talked about it, but my nipples are sensitive as hell.
It doesn’t surprise me that need rises so quickly in my body, my cunt soaking wet, my nipples so hard they hurt.
She begins to suck really hard, pausing to scrape the swollen flesh with her teeth, and I feel like I could almost come just from this.
She moves to the other side and does the same, and pleasure is like a lovely knife, biting deep into me.
If she even touched my clit right now I’d go off like a fucking rocket.
And as if she’s read my mind, she shifts, moving down my body until her mouth is hovering over my needy pussy. I can feel her warm breath on me.
She gently probes my hole, and it’s just waiting for her fingers, so slick and ready.
She slides her fingers inside me, making me groan, making me tremble all over.
Then her mouth comes down on my clit, sucking, sucking, and my orgasm rips into me, so powerful I’m yelling, my body clenching, my pussy squeezing her fingers as she pumps into me.
“Fuckkkkkkkkkk!”
She doesn’t let up, and I keep coming and coming, and I don’t even know what I’m yelling—it’s just insensible noise, maybe a growl, coming out of my throat.
When it starts to subside she takes her mouth off me with a small giggle, and I try to grab her, but I feel like Jello all over. It only makes her giggle harder.
“Baby,” I pant. “Get your ass over here.”
She lays on my chest and kisses me, her mouth wet with my juices, and I take her face in my hands, pulling her in to deepen the kiss.
We start making out again, my body heating once more, and she’s grinding her pelvis against my hip bone, the hot little minx, then she reaches down to pinch my nipple.
I pull my mouth from hers. “Oh, you are in so much trouble, my beautiful girl.”