21. Carrington #2
She kissed Lucy harder, and Lucy made a small sound, caught in her throat. Carrington pulled back and pressed her fingers to Lucy's mouth again. Lucy closed her eyes and kept Carrington’s fingers there.
Carrington’s robe was open and her blouse underneath was unbuttoned to the sternum, the small buttons Lucy had worked at with both hands before Carrington pinned them above her head.
That had been the first escalation: Lucy's wrists pinned and her mouth open against Carrington's fingers, the both of them still mostly dressed and already past the point of talking about it.
Carrington let go of Lucy's wrists and brought her hand down between them. Lucy's shirt was bunched under her arms. Her bra was pushed up and still clasped; Carrington had just shoved it out of the way. Carrington's mouth found one taut nipple in the dark and felt Lucy's whole body jerk.
She bit down softly, and Lucy's stomach clenched under Carrington's free hand.
The hand that had been gripping Carrington's neck slid down to her shoulder and then to her arm and squeezed, nails digging in through the open blouse.
Carrington pulled back from Lucy's breast and pushed her thigh between Lucy's legs.
The remaining denim bunched against her own bare skin.
Lucy had one leg still half in her jeans, the other bare, and the heat of her core was immediate against Carrington's thigh.
Lucy pressed down, and Carrington pressed up, and they found a rhythm that was too fast and not at all smooth.
Carrington's hand left Lucy's mouth and went down.
She shoved the jeans lower on the one leg, got them to the calf, gave up.
Her fingers found the waistband of Lucy's underwear and pulled it to the side.
Lucy was soaked, the kind of drenched that made Carrington's breath catch because she could feel it on her knuckles before she got anywhere.
She pushed two fingers inside her pussy.
Lucy's hips came off the bed and the mattress springs gave a single low groan.
Carrington looked down at Lucy's face. It was in half an inch of light—the line of her jaw, the shadow of her open mouth, her eyes wide and fixed on Carrington.
Carrington kept looking at her because she couldn't stop, and more to the point, she didn't want to stop.
Wanting was the part that frightened her most.
She curled her fingers inside Lucy’s walls.
Lucy's mouth opened and no sound came out, just a breath of air.
Carrington started moving her hand, slowly at first, then faster, the heel of her palm grinding against Lucy's clit with every thrust. Lucy's hands were in the sheet again, fisted, pulling the fitted sheet up from the corner of the mattress.
Her head tipped back, exposing the long line of her neck.
The tendons running down the side of it stood out.
Carrington pulled her fingers almost all the way out and pushed back in hard.
Lucy's leg—the bare one—hooked around Carrington's calf and pulled, changing the angle. Carrington’s fingers went deeper, and she added a third.
Lucy's forehead pressed against Carrington's collarbone and she was shaking, her breath coming in short bursts against Carrington's skin, each one warm and then cold, warm and then cold.
Carrington could feel herself building toward her own orgasm, something she hadn’t intended.
She'd come in here meaning to take care of Lucy and keep herself in check to get through the night and be what she had to be in the morning.
But Lucy's leg was locked around her and Lucy's breath was on her throat and Lucy’s juices were running down Carrington's hand and wrist. She could feel her own pulse between her legs, heavy and insistent.
She shifted her weight and got her knee up higher between Lucy's thighs.
She kept all three fingers inside Lucy, pumping rhythmically, and brought her other hand down between her own legs.
The robe was open and the slip underneath was rucked up to her waist. She shoved her underwear aside and pushed two fingers inside her own entrance, letting out a loud exhale.
Lucy's hand came up and covered Carrington's mouth.
Carrington closed her eyes, and her fingers kept moving inside Lucy, inside herself.
Lucy's other hand found Carrington's wrist and pressed, pushing Carrington's fingers deeper into Lucy’s pussy.
That was the thing that undid her, Lucy directing her hand from underneath and taking what she needed through Carrington's fingers.
Carrington's hips spasmed against her own hand, and she bit down on the meat of Lucy's palm.
Carrington opened her eyes to find that Lucy was already looking up at her.
That face again—the one thing she didn't want to look at but couldn't stop looking at—and in the half-inch of light from the landing she could see that Lucy was close.
The set of Lucy's jaw, the way her breathing had gone shallow and tight, the flush that Carrington could feel even if she couldn't see it, the heat coming off Lucy's chest and throat.
"Look at me. I want to see you when you come," Carrington said.
Lucy's eyes had been drifting shut, but Lucy opened them and fixed her gaze on Carrington, holding the fiery eye contact. Carrington worked her fingers harder, her thumb on Lucy's clit, circling the nub. Lucy's hips were moving in short, tight circles, chasing her pleasure.
Lucy came, and Carrington felt it—the clamp around her fingers, the stutter in Lucy's hips, the way Lucy's whole body went rigid for two seconds and then shuddered.
Lucy's fingers dug into Carrington's shoulder hard enough to bruise.
And her face, her face was everything. It was open and wrecked and unguarded in a way Carrington had never seen, and she kept staring at it because she couldn't stop.
Carrington pulled her fingers out of Lucy slowly, and Lucy's breath hitched. Carrington wiped her hand on the sheet and shoved her underwear down further, spread her thighs, and used two fingers on herself, fast and graceless, her forehead dropping to Lucy's shoulder.
Lucy's hand found the back of her neck. Her other hand slid down Carrington's back, over the robe and slip, down to the curve of her ass. Lucy gripped hard and pulled Carrington's hips forward. Carrington's fingers moved faster and her teeth found Lucy’s shoulder. She bit down and came hard.
It hit her in waves. Her thighs clamped around her own hand, and her stomach seized. The sound she made was swallowed by Lucy's shirt and by the dark. The effort of holding it in made it worse, made her whole body shake, made her clench so hard around her own fingers that it hurt.
She slowed, then stopped. Her forehead stayed on Lucy's shoulder.
She could feel Lucy's breathing—slow now, steadier—and the damp of Lucy's shirt against her cheek.
Carrington lifted her head, finding Lucy looking at her.
Lucy's mouth was swollen from being pressed against Carrington's palm.
Her hair was a mess and her shirt was rucked up under her arms and one leg was still tangled in her jeans.
She was looking at Carrington with an expression that Carrington couldn't read in this light and wasn't sure she wanted to read in any light.
Carrington pulled her hand out of her own underwear, adjusted the slip down, and pulled the robe closed. She didn't tie it. Lucy reached up and tucked a strand of Carrington's hair behind her ear, then let her hand drop to the mattress.
Carrington lay down beside her. Lucy's bare leg was still flung across Carrington's thigh, and the sheet was twisted under them. The fitted sheet had come off the corner on Lucy's side.
Carrington stared at the ceiling, and Lucy's hand found hers under the sheet. They laced through Carrington's and held still. The contact was light and didn't ask anything, didn't promise anything, didn't need to be answered.
Her rings were lined up on the nightstand. She'd put them back on in the morning. She'd put the pins back in. She'd button the blouse and pull on the suit and be what she had to be, and she would do it perfectly, because she always did, and because the alternative was unthinkable.
But that was the morning. And this was now. Carrington lay still and breathed and did not let go.
"She's going to be impossible in the morning," Lucy said, breaking the silence.
"I love how you are with her." It came out before Carrington could stop herself.
Lucy's breathing changed. It went shallow for two breaths and then evened out. "Thank you."