Chapter 8 #3
Kelly settled between Becca's legs, kissing her inner thighs, taking her time. Becca's hand found Kelly's hair and held it loosely, just like she always did with Ellie, and then she turned her head to look at the sofa.
There it was again.
The look.
The same look from the booth but closer, more intimate, more complex because now they were in Ellie and Becca's home, in the room next to their bedroom, and the stakes were higher, the emotions were bigger, and Becca's expression carried all of that.
I love you. Are you ok? Can you see how good this feels? Is this what you wanted? Truly, do you want this as much as me?
Ellie met her eyes and nodded, and Becca smiled, a small, breathless, radiant smile, and then Kelly's mouth found her and Becca's eyes fluttered closed, the smile dissolving into something else entirely.
And Ellie sat there, and watched Kelly go down on her wife.
She watched the movements of Kelly's head, the way her hands held Becca's hips, the way she explored first, tentatively, searching for what worked, and then found her rhythm and committed to it.
She watched Becca's body respond, the subtle shifts and sounds that told Ellie exactly how it was going, everything that Ellie knew so well.
The way that Becca's toes curled, the way her stomach muscles tensed, the way her hand tightened in Kelly's hair when Kelly did something that worked particularly well.
It was different from doing it herself.
Fundamentally, viscerally different, in ways she’d not fully appreciated until now.
When Ellie went down on Becca she was inside the experience, feeling and tasting and adjusting, too immersed to really observe and rightly so.
Now she was outside it, watching the whole picture, Becca's face, Becca's body, the other woman between her legs, and the perspective was revelatory.
She could see things she'd never seen before: the exact expression Becca made when pleasure built past a certain point, a kind of focused blankness, her brow slightly furrowed, her lips parted, that she never normally saw; the way her breathing went from almost inaudible to gasps and moans that she could hear across the room; the way her whole body was writhing, so much more active than Ellie had thought.
Kelly was good. There was a moment, a specific moment, when she did something with her tongue that made Becca cry out suddenly and grab the sheets with both hands.
Ellie didn't know what it was, she couldn't see the specifics from where she was sat, but whatever Kelly had done it was something new, something Ellie hadn't done, and Becca's reaction to it was volcanic.
Part of Ellie thought that that should have hurt.
How dare this other woman make my wife feel something like that instead of me?
Yet it didn’t, or rather it did, but the hurt was so entangled with the arousal by now that Ellie couldn't separate them, and didn't want to separate them.
Kelly was giving Becca something that Ellie hadn't.
That was a fact. And the fact of it was exhilarating rather than devastating because Ellie was here, watching it happen, and later she could learn it, bring it into their own bed, make it theirs.
Kelly did the tongue thing, making Becca cry out again, and Ellie found herself smiling, happy that Becca was feeling something amazing.
Becca was close. Ellie knew it from the flush of her skin, the sound of her breathing, the way her whole body was coiling tight like a spring.
Then Becca's hand shot out sideways, reaching toward the edge of the bed, reaching toward Ellie.
Ellie didn't think. She stood up from the sofa, crossed the room to the bed, and took Becca's hand.
Becca's fingers laced through hers and gripped hard, and Ellie knelt beside the bed holding her wife's hand while Kelly continued between her legs.
It was the most intimate she had ever felt with Becca, more intimate than any sex they'd had, because Becca was choosing in this moment to reach for Ellie, to pull her in, to make her part of what was happening even from the sideline.
This was them having sex with Kelly, not just Becca. Them.
Kelly kept Becca close, very close, but oh so slowly she let the orgasm crest, reading the pace perfectly, drawing it out, and when it finally arrived Becca's grip on Ellie's hand became crushing, her back arching off the bed, a long, raw moan that broke into something primal.
Ellie held on and watched her wife's face as pleasure consumed her.
It was the most beautiful thing she had ever witnessed.
Through it all, even at the peak, Becca held on to Ellie's hand. She didn't let go until the last tremor had passed and her body went limp against the sheets, her chest heaving.
Kelly lifted her head and looked up at Becca with a satisfied, slightly awed expression, then noticed Ellie kneeling there, hand clasped in Becca's, and smiled… not awkwardly, not jealously, but warmly, the smile of someone who understood what she was seeing and thought it was beautiful.
Ellie smiled back, let go of Becca's hand, kissed her wife's knuckles once, and went back to the sofa.