Chapter 9 September - Arabella & Renate #2
“You atoned for Viola. You saved Jamie. You were the best man at Vivian’s wedding.
You did everything right once you knew what right was, and isn’t that the most important thing?
To do better once you know better?” Renate dropped the cigarette into the ashtray before gently taking Arabella’s chin in her fingers and turning them face to face.
“Now, tell me you know better when it comes to me, Bella. Or set me free. I will not be anyone’s second… I am either the absolute priority, the only one, or I am no one.”
There was a tiny break in the voice, a small fracture of insecurity and Arabella’s tears spilled.
“I loved you first, and I loved you last, Renate. First and last.”
The third gasp was barely audible, Renate’s lips parting on a silent note of.. Was it relief?
Arabella lay her forehead on her wife’s.
“I am so sorry for making you doubt even for a second that you are above all else, and the one I chose to spend the rest of my life with. I choose you. Every day. Every morning when I make you coffee. When I bring you breakfast in bed. When I watch you shower and sing off key—”
“I do not sing off key!” There was laughter in the indignation, and Arabella allowed herself to smile.
“You’re perfect. Off key singing and all. If even for a moment I made you feel that you are not everything in my life, I will atone for that forever, Rena.”
“Oh, Bella…” Renate kissed her cheek, the lips warm and tender. “You try to shoulder the world’s troubles. You carry all this weight. And you often forget that you are but one person.”
“But what a person, Renate!” They both laughed, and Arabella felt the bands around her chest loosen. She hadn’t been able to breathe since they had stepped into Dr. Moore’s office when she first heard Renate’s words.
“Darling…” Arabella reached for the bulb again, the black words and numbers standing in sharp relief against the glass. “You changed my life, back then and now. You were the one who opened my heart—”
“Your legs too.” Arabella nearly choked and gaped at her wife before dissolving in a fit of laughter.
“Those too, darling. Those too. My god, I love you. Never, never doubt. You were the key to everything, and no, don’t make another joke about what exactly that key unlocked. Let me say this. Let me put into words just how much you mean to me—”
“Bella, you and words… You called a renowned actress a cunt in front of hundreds of spectators.”
“She deserved it. And I do need to say this. I may have loved many people. I may have not been good to many people. I may have messed up many times. But I chose you. I married you. I love you. Always.”
Renate held her face in her hands, and the eyes that looked into hers were twinkling with merriment, with love, and Arabella leaned in and kissed her. Slowly, carefully, like the precious treasure this woman was.
“I love you.”
Renate threaded her fingers through the hair at the nape of her neck, and Arabella felt shivers run down her spine.
Yes, this woman. This one.
Viola had been her obsession for years, decades, her guilt, her pain. Her cross to bear. But Renate? Renate was her life, her fate. Hers.
“Show me, Bella… Show me.”
They sunk down into the wide couch. The kiss went on and on, lips and tongues and teeth and all the love.
All of it. She slid her hand under the Conti linen dress Renate wore and into the lace lingerie, carefully, gently.
She did not remove the intricate panties, instead choosing to focus on the sumptuous breasts that were always so sensitive; a sure way to please her wife, to drive her crazy…
“It’s not the breasts, it’s you. Always you.”
Arabella pushed the beautiful neckline down, praying Chiara didn’t kill her if she mangled the dress, and took a puckered nipple in her mouth.
Renate moaned, and Arabella flicked her tongue back and forth a few times, testing, tasting before sucking hard and making her wife whimper.
Her hand found the other nipple, and then it was all heavy breaths, licks and little cries of pleasure.
“I love… Oh god… I love when you… Oh, Bella.. Yes, there, oh yes… more… Bella!”
When she finally lifted her hand and drew down the lacy underwear, she found her wife wet and ready. She dipped her fingers carefully, stroking once, twice.
“Lube, my love?”
“No, no, it’s… please, please, Bella…”
She knew what please meant. She knew so very well exactly what please meant. It would be murder on her knees, and the pillow wouldn’t be particularly helpful, but she dropped one down from the couch even as she knelt. Hell, she’d kneel on broken glass if it meant making this woman come.
“Do you want me to lick you, Renate?” She smirked as, above her, her wife’s ragged breath sounded exasperated. “Do you? I’ll lick you so good, so long, as long as you want—”
“Or as long as your knees hold you up?”
Just for that, Arabella gave a reddened, now oversensitive nipple a pinch, making Renate yelp.
“My knees will hold me, woman. Now, what do you want me to do?” She licked around the wet opening, and Renate nearly screamed. “Do you want me to eat you right up, my wife? To make you come in my mouth? To make you cry out my name and pull on my hair?”
Renate nodded and Arabella decided it was answer enough.
She placed a few licks on the trembling flesh, inhaling the scent, reveling in it.
All these years, and it had been her. Only her.
All the women, all the men, all the power hungry games, all the loneliness in crowds, and it had been this woman.
Her wife. Her forever. She took the clit in her mouth and sucked.
Renate went rigid under her touch and, as the thighs closed like a vise around her head, she felt the telltale tremble of the flesh under her tongue and reveled in it.
Even as Renate’s hands dove into her hair, pulling and pushing, Arabella held them down.
“No, no, one more, just one more. Give me one more, my love.”
Renate did. Weakly, whimpering her name, Renate came again, a long and slow orgasm that went on like a wave. When Arabella finally lifted her head, Renate’s face was peaceful, a small smile playing in the corner of the so-often-serious mouth.
“What?” Arabella winced as she got up from her knees and plopped on the couch, lifting her wife’s legs and placing them in her lap.
“What are you going to write on that second bulb, dearest? Fucked my wife into oblivion on the couch in the study? Do you think that’s what Dr. Moore meant when she said to make memories and record them?”
Arabella snickered.
“I think this is exactly what Dr. Moore meant. Can you imagine her face when all our bulbs are just rooms and positions and furniture we did it on?”
Renate’s giggle was music to her ears.
“We do have all those bedrooms, dearest.”
They did. They had bedrooms and light bulbs and each other. Their love. And they’d be making many, many memories using everything they had.