chapter 46 ⚚
There was something quietly comforting about returning to the rituals of childhood, even as a grown woman. Except this time the comfort never reached the edges of the thing it surrounded.
"Oh, how many times I've heard that," Chiara whined, throwing her head back.
"Just because you prefer yelling at Nathan for hours doesn't make you any better."
The three of them sat in Chiara's living room. Chiara occupied the armchair Valentina had insisted upon during their long design debates, the one that now seemed almost too perfect. Valentina and their mother shared the couch. All three women had wine glasses in hand.
"Yeah? And yet I'm not the one crying over him," Chiara stabbed at Valentina with a look that was almost triumphant.
When they were much younger, the three of them had dedicated their evenings once a week to chat.
At first, it had been only Valentina and her mother.
Chiara had been a bit too young to understand the struggles Valentina had brought to their mother, so she simply sat chiming in after every sentence Valentina had spoken—just being annoying.
Clearly, that hadn't changed.
"He's the one crying because you're problematic," Valentina said finally, her voice flat, rolling her eyes and taking a sip of her wine.
Valentina and Chiara were actually very different when it came to love and relationships, yet sometimes—frustratingly—so similar. The way they loved had been shaped by home, by the abundance of affection their house had always known and taught.
And yet Chiara was infuriating.
She bossed Nathan around, making the grown man look like a scared animal, or worse, a peasant.
She kept him on a leash, but it was clear she loved him fiercely, and perhaps that was the problem—her advice, her opinions, her bold declarations in matters of the heart were utterly useless when it came to Valentina.
The brown eyed woman shrugged, the movement casual, almost bored. "And you're just desperate."
Valentina raised an eyebrow at her sister.
Their mother finally raised her voice. "Chiara," she scolded, and it carried the sound of decades, doing the same thing every time the sisters met.
And just as she said that, the door to the house opened. Nathan stood there, balancing a few takeout boxes in his hands, his expression somewhere between cautious and relieved.
Chiara practically bounced as she stood and walked to him. Valentina ignored it, lifting her glass for a long sip of wine, her gaze drifting to her mother. "I don't understand," she murmured, voice soft but edged with frustration. "Maybe I just have bad luck."
Her mother's green eyes—so like her own—looked at her warmly. "Don't say that."
The older woman reached out, placing a hand on Valentina's, stroking it in a careful, motherly way.
"You're a beautiful, good woman. She doesn't understand." She tilted her head softly in the direction Chiara had gone, quietly acknowledging the younger daughter's theatrics.
"I'm a desperate woman," Valentina sighed, taking another slow sip of wine. She felt, in that moment, less like herself and more like a wife—or maybe an ex wife—who had been dragged through divorce. But who could say she was making too much of it, when it mattered to her?
"But I'm... fine with that. I just wish it could be easier," she added.
"Nothing is ever easy when it comes to anything that has to do with you," her mother replied softly.
Valentina giggled shortly, small, self aware sound that carried more warmth than any humour.
Chiara returned, announcing herself with a triumphant, "I'm back."
"Already licked his face off?" Valentina murmured, glaring at her younger sister.
"Oh please, you wish you could do something like that right now," Chiara shot back, sitting down.
Tonight, unfortunately, Chiara was winning the bickering. Usually it was Valentina's domain, but Chiara loved to take advantage of a sister who wasn't in the mood for anything.
"You're disgusting," Valentina commented, her voice low.
"I don't want to hear about any of it," their mother said, setting her wine glass down to draw a line under the conversation. Valentina, the only woman in the room who had kept her glass in hand since sitting down, glanced briefly at her mother.
"You and her will solve it, Valentina. Don't worry," she said, then paused, adding quietly, "But you can't be this stressed all the time."
"What are you saying?" Valentina furrowed her eyebrows softly, the question implying more than irritation—there was something like disbelief mixed in.
"Yeah, what exactly?" Chiara chimed in slowly.
"Maybe this isn't for you," their mother said, her head tilting towards Valentina with an air of gentle finality.
"You mean she isn't?" Chiara asked, already sighing inside as she sought clarification.
When their mother nodded, Valentina stood, finishing her wine in a single swallow. "I'm done. Drive me home," she said to Chiara, turning towards the door to put on her coat.
Chiara rose as well, glancing down at their mother. "Mom... you can't just say that," she whined, fatigue in her voice as she followed after her older sister.
?
Valentina wasn't sure when the last time she had been drunk was. Tipsy, maybe—she couldn't decide.
Her fingers were already shifting her phone in her hands while Chiara drove her home, the world outside the window was distant. But as soon as she laid down in bed, a desperate heat rose in her chest.
She didn't care—she wanted something, and she would get it any way she could.
She wanted Lilith.
That was why she called.
The first call went unanswered. Valentina tried again, and after a few seconds, the blonde haired girl picked up.
Silence stretched between them, dense and strange. Valentina didn't hear the voice she wanted so desperately to hear. She didn't speak at first, letting the quiet stretch, testing it. Then, unable to wait any longer, she murmured, "Say something, Lilith."
Finally, the voice came. "No... I'm scared."
Valentina exhaled with a slow, quiet relief she couldn't have described even if she tried. No matter what Lilith said in that moment, it was enough—the sound of her voice was already a comfort.
"Of me?" Valentina asked, her voice steady, even, carrying neither doubt nor urgency.
"I'm not sure. I didn't think of a way we could... um, I don't know... talk about what happened," Lilith mumbled, hesitant, tentative, but it was clear to both of them that any real conversation would have to happen face to face.
Valentina let a small, amused sigh escape her lips.
Truthfully, she didn't want to talk about it. Her mind didn't circle endlessly over Lilith's words, no matter how beautifully cruel the angel acted. She didn't need explanations or apologies—not in that moment, at least.
"What do you mean?" Lilith murmured confused.
"Not today," Valentina said simply.
Lilith let herself say an awkward, "Okay..." unsure what else she could say.
"What are you doing?" Valentina asked, shockingly conversational, almost casual in tone.
"Studying," Lilith answered softly, almost too softly.
"What is it?" Valentina pressed gently.
"I can send you a picture..." the girl said, and Valentina could already imagine her shrugging her shoulders softly. From that moment, any image became vivid in Valentina's mind.
When the message came, Valentina glanced at it briefly. Familiar handwriting, pink highlighter tracing key points. The notes mirrored the schedule Lilith had once written for her—only now, the handwriting was a little messier.
Lilith had made it neat for Valentina, and just that small gesture made her grin.
"Do you need help with that?" Valentina asked, stretching her legs softly across the warm bed.
"You mean help with studying? No... it's okay," Lilith said, slightly confused and hesitant.
Valentina hummed, tilting her head. "It's cold."
"Yeah," Lilith responded softly, the single word carrying the subtle ache of the weather.
"What are you wearing?" Valentina asked, fingers idly playing with the ring on her hand, the question casual but mixed with curiosity and attention.
There was a slight pause before Lilith very quietly said, "Your sweater," as if she were caught admitting something so pathetic.
"And?" Valentina prompted, coaxing more from her, letting her ego swell slightly at the fact that even now, Lilith was wearing something of hers.
She imagined the sweater had been washed, that it now carried Lilith's scent layered over hers—vanilla, the girl stealing another thing from her, this time physical.
"That's all," Lilith answered absently.
"Really. Nothing else?" Valentina hummed, letting her mind wander to bare legs, to thighs, to any curve Lilith had.
"What, do you want me to describe what panties I'm wearing?" the girl said slightly humorous.
Valentina exhaled softly. "You could," she said, her voice low.
She wasn't sure if it was too much, too far, but she wanted it.
Did that make her a filthy woman? Perhaps—but Valentina Salvatore was much worse than merely asking for a description of such things as panties.
"You're crazy," Lilith exhaled, a quiet laugh escaping her.
"Mhm," Valentina murmured slowly, circling the ring on her finger as she said, "You left ones at my place."
Her mind drifted back to her birthday evening, to the memory of Lilith there. There was a pause on the line, then Lilith spoke slowly, "And..."
"I don't know. I was just thinking about it," Valentina said, taking off the ring from her finger and setting it carefully on her nightstand. Then, in a shift that was almost desperate, breaking the rhythm of the conversation, she added, "Thinking about you."
Valentina could hear the soft sigh escaping from the girl's lips, but it didn't make her step back. No—if anything, it made her lean further into what she wanted, exactly how she wanted it. The alcohol eased her restraint, loosening the hints of control she usually maintained.
She was selfish tonight—and yet, how pleasing it was for her.
"Were you thinking about me too?" she asked.
"Yes," Lilith admitted softly, surrendering making Valentina only fuel her need more.
"Tell me exactly what you were thinking about me," Valentina prompted, her tone calm but insistent. The rhythm of the question mirrored the way she once had asked Lilith to list the things she was thankful for.
"Only the... positive things, right?" Lilith asked subtly checking and ensuring Valentina didn't want to touch the sensitive or upsetting topics.
"Mhm," Valentina replied, continuing without pause, not letting the girl answer yet. "Were you missing my bed?"
Her words were soft, almost a murmur, the phone slipping slightly against her chest. One hand wandered almost unconsciously lower, brushing her thigh as her voice continued, "You in it? Me?"
The air in her bedroom thickened. Perhaps it was the alcohol, perhaps the memory, perhaps the force of her longing—but everything in that moment screamed Lilith.
Lilith, lying in her bed in such revealing clothing—was it for Valentina? Was the girl aware of her gaze, of how her mind gripped to every detail?
And just like that, Valentina's fingers found her own black lace panties.
"You feel lonely sleeping alone, don't you?" She asked and her exhale came soft and needy as she slipped her panties aside, her fingertip grazing her clit for the first time.
No surprise met the slick wetness there—who wouldn't be soaked like this?
Who could hold back when the blonde girl's image burned so vividly in her mind?
Whether it was her in the hot tub, shirt clinging to her full, soft breasts, or on the bed leaning in, her top sliding lower and lower with every teasing shift, long hair spilling everywhere that Valentina ached to grab and twist her fingers into—the whines, those soft, desperate sounds.
No matter if the girl's actions were intentional or not, they worked their spell every time, untwisting her completely, especially now.
Lilith giggled softly, the sound lighter. "Yeah."
Valentina's fingertip traced slow circles over her clit, the touch slick and needy. The girl's giggle through the phone sent a sharp pulse of heat between her thighs.
"I guess I've grown to like sleeping in your bed too much," Lilith admitted.
"Or perhaps not quite as much as you should," Valentina murmured. She pressed deeper, slipping a finger inside with ease.
Valentina played with Lilith in that odd, wicked way, continuing to be suggestive—how utterly bad it was for Lilith, with Valentina intent on going as far as she pleased, until she was satisfied.
The silence on the other end was palpable.
"You could be here every day. Next to me. On me. Beneath me." Valentina bit back a moan, her breath uneven. The thought of Lilith oblivious, nervous, made the act even more sinful.
"I do wish that, don't you?"
What made it worse was that, even if Valentina felt like such a dirty woman, she didn't mind—and she was sure she wouldn't regret it later, whether she should or not.
She returned her attention to her clit, teasing in tight, rhythmic strokes.
"Val... are you okay?" Lilith's voice came as she heard the unidentified sound.
For a second, Valentina prayed the girl didn't suspect any of the filthy things she was doing in that moment—not that it would have been possible. The first time they spoke after the cruel situation, Valentina was fucking herself driven by such need.
Though the brunette woman was doing so well keeping quiet.
"I asked you a question," Valentina said, her tone edged with dark amusement.
And not letting the girl answer, feeding herself so selfishly, she said, "I know you do. So eager, always."
Because the dark haired woman knew.
She wondered if the girl would still be so eager, knowing what the woman had in mind, and what she had planned for the future—what she was preparing and curating so carefully in her mind.
Valentina exhaled giving the girl a low, knowing laugh. "Am I making you nervous, Lilith?"
Her ego was growing bigger and bigger—the woman feeling not only good because of Lilith, but also feeling so good about herself.
"A bit. I wasn't expecting you to call me..." Lilith admitted shyly.
"But you're happy I did, right?" Valentina coaxed, her fingertips circling relentless, demanding.
Waiting.
"Yes, thank you."
"Are you still as thankful for me as you were in the hot tub?" Valentina asked, her own voice velvety hum, each word strained with the walk of her impending orgasm.
"Of course I am. I—sorry," Lilith stuttered sincerely. Everything Valentina had asked, hinted at, or led her towards was simply the truth.
"What was it?" Valentina asked, smile blooming on her lips, a private victory she savored. A wave of pure, intoxicating euphoria washed over her, sharpening every sensation.
"Nothing... you just make me feel shy," Lilith murmured.
"Such a sweet girl," Valentina purred, the words being a simple caress.
"Is it for me? Only me?" Valentina encouraged, her mind painting vivid, filthy pictures behind each innocent syllable.
"It is. I wouldn't want... or even be able to let it be for—you know... someone else," Lilith confessed, the thought of anyone else feeling so foreign and impossible it was like a physical barrier.
"You wouldn't want to please anyone other than me?" Valentina pressed, her ego swelling, feeling possessive.
"Are you pleased?" The girl asked unsure.
"Should I show you how pleased I am next time?" she asked, the rhythm of her fingers becoming more insistent, a direct counterpoint to her teasing words.
"Valentina..." Lilith exhaled defeated, at the woman's mercy.
"Tell me, sweetheart. Tell me. Tell me, Lilith," Valentina demanded, her voice cracking with desperation, and as soon as Lilith whispered, "First I should please you a little more," something snapped.
She came, a soft moan torn from her throat, her breath catching in shallow, ragged pants from the effort of holding herself together until the very last second.
"Valentina... are you really alright?" Lilith whined, sounding more like her usual self.
"More than alright, baby."
Because she truly was, even with things unsolved she was content—happy with the girl and with herself.
Happy enough that it made her fall asleep after such an impure act, knowing that every suggestion she made and every thought she had were spilled. The only thing she wished was that she could be more specific, but that would be left for another time.