Chapter Ten
What the hell are you doing? Thought Peyton, brushing her lips over Josie’s, parting them with her tongue. Stop it. Stop it now.
Not listening to the little voice in her head, Peyton ran her hands down the soft, smooth skin of Josie’s back. This is crazy scolded the little voice. You don’t even like her.
Though, technically, that wasn’t true. Josie was incredibly easy to like.
Even with the whole ditsy persona. She was even likeable when she lost her keys or forced Peyton to walk three miles to an Inn after the sun had gone down.
Even when Josie bought into the whole whimsical notion of fate.
Her general disposition was so warm and genuine and lovely.
You’ll feel bad about it in the morning tried the voice.
Anything to convince Peyton to stop something she would certainly regret the next morning.
But how could she stop? How could she rip herself away from Josie’s tongue, running along her lips, from her hands skimming the bare skin along the sides of her breasts?
Besides, life was full of regrets and also pointless if you didn’t live it to the fullest.
That’s the adrenaline talking. Pure lust. You wouldn’t be doing these things if you were in a more rational state, reasoned the voice. Stop kissing Josie and rather ask her about the story. You want to know what happens to Captain Sebastian, don’t you?
Peyton would much rather be having hot, delicious sex than listening to the story of a sad captain who had lost his wife to the sea.
You’ll lead her on and she’ll think she won. She’ll think she convinced you—
“Are you alright?” muttered Josie, her breath hot against Peyton’s neck. “You seem to be somewhere else.”
“No.” Peyton shook her head and forced the voice out of her head. “I’m right here.”
“Good,” smiled Josie, burying her hands in Peyton’s hair and tipping her face up to meet hers. Lips brushed against each other and then Peyton pressed her mouth hard against Josie’s, kissing her deeply, only stopping to take small sips of air.
The voice didn’t bother her again.
Thank goodness for that. Not that she could pay it any mind when Josie’s hands were roaming over Peyton’s entire body.
One second, she was slipping her palm beneath Peyton’s shirt, dragging her fingers over her back and the next she was trailing them down south to her ass, squeezing hard through the linen fabric.
The clothes had to go.
And Peyton was more than happy to do the honors. She was just about to reach for the zipper of Josie’s jeans when the woman took the reins and flipped her onto her back again.
“You’re a lot stronger than you look,” exclaimed Peyton, both breathless and amazed.
“I get that a lot,” chuckled Josie, shifting down the bed.
She sat back on her knees, leaned forward, and glided her palms over Peyton’s firm stomach.
“People underestimate me.” Then, she coaxed Peyton’s top and bra over her head and stopped briefly to gaze at her, to drink her in.
For a split second, Peyton felt a tiny bubble of self-consciousness deep in the pit of her stomach.
But there was no need. The only thing reflected in Josie’s honey-brown eyes was a deep sort of admiration.
Josie tore her gaze away and then yanked Peyton’s shorts down, inching them free from her ankles before she tossed them over her shoulders.
She then did the same thing with Peyton’s panties.
When Peyton was as naked as the day she was born, Josie shrugged off that oversized T-shirt that could swallow her whole.
She then unclipped her bra and dropped them both to the bed before she climbed on top of Peyton, straddling her hips.
“But I don’t mind that people underestimate me,” she said. “I think it makes me more mysterious.”
“Well, you’re definitely not boring.”
“Thank you,” Josie said, smiling sweetly.
“Pleasure,” laughed Peyton. There was nothing about Josie that could be described as mundane and predictable.
Quite the opposite, actually. Josie was so different from Sorel.
So multi-layered. It was as if Sorel’s intense love for the ocean, for sailing, had made her extremely predictable. One layer only.
Peyton pushed the picture of her ex-fiancée out of her mind—hopefully forever—and concentrated on Josie. On the amused smile that sat on her face.
“I think that might be my first ever compliment from you,” said Josie.
“Can’t be. I’m full of compliments,” said Peyton. She could think of at least ten compliments. Josie was beautiful. Her breasts were like soft pillows. Those nipples, pink and waiting, their tips peaked and eager, were so gorgeous she longed to play with them.
Peyton reached both hands up and skated her palms over Josie’s stomach, relishing in every perfect imperfection until she cupped Josie’s breasts, and found the nipples, each one between two fingers, and squeezed hard.
Josie moaned and tipped her head back, her back arching as she did, her jean-clad hips pushing into Peyton’s bare ones and the feeling not nearly as nice as it would be if they were both naked.
Those shorts had to go.
While Josie still straddled her, Peyton sat up, her arm looped around Josie’s waist, keeping her there.
She kissed her gently on the sternum and then not so gently flipped her onto her back.
“You’ve got to lose your pants too,” Peyton said, unzipping the jean shorts before she pulled them swiftly to the ground together with Josie’s black cotton panties.
Now they were skin against skin.
“I really didn’t think we would be doing this right now,” said Josie, teetering close to ruining the moment. The last thing Peyton wanted was that voice in her head to come back and say, ‘I told you so.’
“Let’s not talk,” mumbled Peyton, her lips pressed against Josie’s neck. She caught Josie’s right wrist and then pinned it to the mattress above her head as she reached for the left one.
Planting another kiss on her neck, right below her jawbone, Peyton then slithered down the bed a little until her face was just below Josie’s chin. She kissed the dip above Josie’s collarbone, taking things slow, taunting her, hoping Josie felt as hot and crazed as she did.
The slower things moved, the worse the ache got.
Yet Peyton was in no hurry.
They had all night.
When she moved down even more, her lips pressing softly—like butterfly kisses—all down her sternum, she veered her mouth sideways and touched it to Josie’s nipple, flicking the hardened peak with her tongue.
“Oh my god,” moaned Josie, eyes closed, hands still above her head even though nothing was holding them there.
Peyton smiled to herself and then moved down farther, pressing her mouth against the soft skin just above Josie’s belly button. She embraced the way Josie’s fingers weaved into her hair.
For a split second there, Peyton could feel a bit of resistance, not just in the way Josie was tugging at her hair, but how she was rolling her hips, as if she wanted Peyton to move back up. To not take control.
But Peyton had to. She had to be the one who gave pleasure first and not the other way around.
It wasn’t just because she had control issues, a need to dominate, but rather Peyton had the most embarrassing infliction.
If she climaxed first and finished before Josie did, there was a seventy-five percent chance that she might giggle.
Sorel had hated it. She had gotten upset whenever Peyton had accidentally burst into laughter, even after she had explained it was just her body’s reaction, an unusual type of chemical response to endorphins. She wasn’t going to make the same mistake with Josie.
“Just enjoy,” Peyton muttered, kissing a trail along the bony part of Josie’s hip as she moved down to the edge of the mattress.
She then pushed Josie’s legs apart, angling them up so that Josie could grip her shins and open herself like a tulip, giving Peyton the most perfect access to her entrance.
With her tongue flattened, she licked the length of Josie and smiled when a guttural groan filled the room.
She did it again and again, loving the sweet taste of her.
She then stretched her palms out against the back of Josie’s thighs, skating them forward, and then gripped onto her hips just below the crease.
Peyton slipped her tongue to the silky folds of Josie’s entrance and lapped her up like she was the sweetest drink in the world. Over and over again.
It wasn’t long before Josie’s fingers lost their grip, her body quivering, her moans becoming ragged. And then her legs collapsed and fell over Peyton’s shoulders, her heels digging lovingly into her back.
“Your turn,” breathed Josie once she had stopped shaking. She shifted her body, rolling Peyton back up, as if Josie was a wave and Peyton a rubber ducky, moving her in whichever direction the swell chose.
Before she knew it, Peyton was on her back again. Josie on top. Her left thigh pushed between Peyton’s legs. Bare skin pressed up against her very wet center.
Peyton moaned at the contact. It was a moan that grew when Josie began to move her hips, rolling them over and over Peyton’s, causing hot friction at the very point Peyton needed it.
For a minute they were just arms and legs, mouths sweeping against each other’s, and fingers tangling in hair. All the while, groans emanated from both their throats.
When Peyton’s ache was growing like a tree ready to shed its leaves, Josie retracted, not just her tongue which had moments ago been stuck in Peyton’s mouth, running over her teeth, but her entire body as she slid down the bed.
All Peyton could do was embrace that delicious pain now as she watched Josie descend down the side of the bed, feeling every scrape of her fingernails across the inside of her thighs.
“Open your legs wider,” Josie instructed. Her face was so close, hot breath brushed over Peyton’s sensitive skin, making her shake.
And she wasn’t just shaking. She was flying.
She was feeling so light and airy and unlike herself, like a weight she had been carrying all this time was finally gone.
She couldn’t even remember what the weight was, how it looked, or how it sounded.
It was gone, and she was free. So free that her body was unresponsive to Josie’s instructions.
When Peyton didn’t comply—because how could she when she was at a breaking point—Josie took the lead once again and nudged Peyton’s legs open before she settled her head between Peyton’s thighs.
Hot breath blew against her entrance once more and Peyton could do nothing apart from twisting the sheets, hoping they didn’t tear. Frances would not be happy.
When Josie’s mouth closed in around Peyton’s clit and immediately began sucking, Peyton writhed. Her body quaked as her head tilted back into the pillow and she rolled her hips up, begging for pressure.
Josie did everything right.
In fact, she was far better than Peyton would ever have given her credit for. She licked and sucked and lapped and blew hot breaths against her core.
And then, when Peyton was so close, so very fucking close, Josie retracted her tongue and instead slipped in two fingers. She thrust them in and out at just the right speed, just the right rhythm until a sound escaped Peyton’s throat. It was a growl she had never made before.
Peyton’s body trembled, not just her legs, but everything, down to her pinky fingers. And when Josie pressed down hard on Peyton’s clit, her fingers still working magic, Peyton broke into a million pieces.
Her legs tightened, then fell apart.
She was exhausted. The adrenaline and lust and all those happy hormones ebbing away like waves from a shore, and when the wave trailed back, so did that heaviness again.
That lightness Peyton had just found slipped away like sand through her fingers.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
It was a mistake.
Sleeping with Josie—again—was a cataclysmic mistake.
Except this time, Peyton couldn’t leave the hotel, hop on a plane, and be sure she would never see Josie again.
At least not for an entire year. When Josie crawled back onto the bed, Peyton rolled off the side of it, immediately beginning the search for her clothes.
She bent down to pick up her shorts and panties and wished she had listened to that voice in her head.
“What’s wrong?” asked Josie, completely oblivious to the fact that Peyton was in a sudden state of panic, in fight-or-flight mode. If she could run away, she would. Except she had no phone, no money and it was almost midnight. Running away would be stupid and illogical.
So, instead, she whipped back to face the bed and huffed, “We shouldn’t have done that. What the hell was I thinking? You should have just told me your pirate story and been done with it.”
Josie’s features fell so hard they seemed to crumble. She sat up, grabbed a pillow, and covered her naked self with it. Her shoulders were so tense they nearly reached her ears. “I thought you were having fun.”
“Of course I was,” snapped Peyton, snatching her shirt and bra from the floor and yanking them both back on. “That’s the problem!”
“Why?” asked Josie.
Because she thought, for the first time in over a year, I felt lighter than air, like I could float on a breeze.
Like somehow you are replacing a heaviness in me, Josie.
Replacing something that’s been eating me alive.
And it’s not just the sex. It’s the way you look at me, the way you smile at me like you know something about me that even I don’t.
It’s the way you’re so determined for me to believe in something so…
so out of the ordinary… And I hate that about this. I hate this feeling.
But instead, she said, “Because I am perfectly capable of enjoying myself with a woman and not developing feelings.” She spat the word ‘feelings’ like it was poison.
“And I’m not?” It was a question rather than a statement.
“No. Josie. You are not. Alright? And whatever happened here, now, shouldn’t have happened because you’re just not the type of person who can do casual sex.”
“I am,” said Josie quickly.
“You. Are. Not,” she snapped, emphasizing each word. “It’s just not who you are. You believe in bedtime stories and fate and a love that means something,” she sighed, feeling like she was overreacting. “You’re just not the type of person who does casual.”
Peyton walked over to the light switch and flicked it off, darkness falling on the room. “Now let’s just go to bed. We have to be up early in the morning,”