Chapter Eleven
Angry sex.
Those two words made Kendall shiver, since this was exactly what this was.
Angry sex. Sloane had seen her cheating ex-girlfriend at the festival, and suddenly had turned into this version Kendall hadn’t expected.
A version that was desperate to soothe her heartache with sex, like a balm over a sore muscle.
Kendall was the balm.
Or maybe it wasn’t what they were doing, but rather what Sloane was doing to her that made her shiver. The filmmaker was dragging her fingernails up Kendall’s side to her breasts. Then her palms skidded over Kendall’s bra, grazing the hardened peaks of her nipples.
They were standing just inside the doorway of the bedroom. There wasn’t much space. One step forward and their legs would touch the bed. The sky outside was dark. The only light in the room came from the hanging bulb in the short hallway.
It wasn’t long before Kendall’s clothes pooled at her feet. And it was just a few more seconds after that Sloane stood completely naked as well. The woman was gorgeous. Her breasts were perky, her stomach as flat and toned as could be, and a perfect strip of dark hair ran down to her clit.
Kendall gripped Sloane’s hips and pulled her flush at the same time the filmmaker’s mouth crushed against Kendall’s. Her breath was hot on her chin when she whispered, “We can stop at any time.”
“I think it’s too late for that,” Kendall muttered, her tongue tracing the bottom contour of Sloane’s lip. It was sweet, soft, plump. She parted Sloane’s lips with her own and slid her tongue inside.
Suddenly, Kendall couldn’t keep her hands in place.
She began roaming her palms across Sloane’s body, squeezing her ass, yanking her closer so that they almost stumbled back into the hallway.
But, like always, Sloane was in complete control.
She spun Kendall around and pushed her onto the bed before climbing on top of her.
The sheets were clean and crisp. Thank goodness. They smelled perfectly fresh. Again, thank goodness.
“At least the bed isn’t bad,” Sloane said, pressing her forehead against Kendall’s. Her mouth was mere inches away while she settled one thigh between Kendall’s until their centers met.
Kendall was hot, horny, and dangerously aroused.
She couldn’t help undulating her hips already to get the friction she needed.
But like that first time, Sloane’s hand moved down as if testing the waters, tasting the first course.
Her fingers reached Kendall’s center and drew tight circles that pulled at her insides, making her feel like she wanted to explode.
But then it stopped.
“I want to go down on you,” Sloane said, eyes locking onto Kendall’s. In the dark room, she couldn’t see those electric blue irises. But her senses were heightened. She could feel their glare.
“I’ll be upset if you don’t.”
Sloane chuckled. The sound was so serene it almost didn’t sound like her voice.
She began the slow move down. Kendall gripped Sloane’s silky hair as the woman slid down her stomach, only stopping to press her lips between Kendall’s breasts, and then to her nipple.
She flicked the peak with her tongue and nibbled a taste before she moved further down.
Just the feel of Sloane’s naked body sliding over hers was enough for Kendall to moan. But not just soft, cute little moans. It was more like deep groans that turned primal when Sloane’s tongue slid over her belly button, down to the crease where Kendall’s legs met her hips.
Kendall bucked her hips up, hoping Sloane would get the hint to stop fucking tormenting her when she was already blazing hot. But she looked quite happy torturing Kendall.
Finally, Sloane’s mouth moved to Kendall’s center, kissing her so lightly it was painful. Her core was throbbing.
Who cared if it was nothing but angry sex? Who cared if Sloane was just looking to cool the smoldering anger boiling in her chest? And who said Kendall wasn’t just using the woman to get her own satisfaction, to meet her own sexual needs?
The last time she had sex was a few weeks ago, and that was with Sloane.
Before that, it had been ages. Her trusty vibrator could only do so much. Her fingers tried, but they just weren’t the same. This, whatever it was, was a symbiotic relationship. They were both taking what they needed… or at least Kendall had to convince herself that was the truth.
Sloane dug her nails into Kendall’s thighs, pulled her legs even further apart, and stuck her tongue out, licking the length of her sex.
Kendall didn’t even care that she was grinding her hips up and down on Sloane’s face with each lick.
She didn’t care that she was basically humping Sloane’s face.
It was perfectly fine that her wetness was all over Sloane’s lovely mouth.
She continued moaning as Sloane sucked and kissed and ate her up…
until that moan turned into a full-blown scream when it felt like she was hit by a sudden rainstorm of pleasure.
It soaked her completely, made her shiver, and caused her breath to become ragged.
But Sloane didn’t stop, and Kendall didn’t want her to.
Not yet. She pushed her hips up and rolled them harder against Sloane’s mouth until another orgasm worked through her like a burst of electricity.
Her legs were shaking. Her fingers were digging into Sloane’s shoulders… until they weren’t.
Sloane let her go and glanced up. There was a smile on her face. Her lips glistened with Kendall’s wetness.
Suddenly, Kendall felt this tiny prick of excitement that felt more than just sex. A feeling bigger than anything she’d experienced in a long time. It made her stomach churn.
And so, Kendall ignored that feeling. She didn’t wait for the room to stop spinning before she reached for Sloane and tugged her up and over her until their bodies were flat against each other’s. Their legs were hooked together like a puzzle.
But the moment was short-lived. Kendall flipped them over and straddled Sloane. “That… was fucking amazing,” Kendall said, sitting flat against Sloane’s hips.
Sloane grinned, her hands trailing up Kendall’s sides, and then came to a rest at her hip creases. Her grip was firm. Good. It had to be for what was coming next. Before Sloane could say a word, Kendall moved her hips, rocking them against Sloane’s until she set off what was a series of events.
Sloane’s eyes closed. Her breath deepened. She pushed her hips hard against Kendall’s. Over and over again. But it wasn’t enough. Kendall needed to taste the woman.
She stopped grinding, to Sloane’s dismay. Her eyes shot open, and a quizzical expression played across her face. Kendall winked, then moved down to the edge of the bed until her face was between Sloane’s thighs. Kendall locked her mouth around Sloane’s sex and lapped. She tasted delicious.
Kendall continued gliding her tongue over Sloane’s wet folds, digging deeper, licking faster.
“Oh fuck,” Sloane groaned, head tilting back into the pillow. “Don’t stop.”
Kendall didn’t stop. Not until that moment when Sloane’s body shuddered and fell apart, fighting for breath. She continued for another five seconds and only then stopped.
Only then did Kendall move back up to rest her head on the pillow. “I hope we see your ex-girlfriend again soon.”
It was the wrong thing to say. The air shifted. Changed. That usual tension between them came rushing back.
Sloane sat up. Without looking at Kendall, she shuffled off the bed, muttering, “I need wine,” under her breath.
~~
Kendall was pretty sure the sun was staging a personal vendetta against her, blazing through those tissue-thin curtains right at her pounding head. She barely opened her eyes, yet it still felt like someone had shoved a flashlight directly into her brain.
Even the sound of her own breath felt too loud.
She groaned and curled the pillow over her head as if she could somehow silence the tiny marching band hammering away.
After sex, they had proceeded to finish the entire bottle of chardonnay—and that was on top of the two and a half glasses of wine she’d had at the festival. A poor decision if there ever was one. Unfortunately, there were no ‘backsies’ and Kendall was suffering the consequences.
Not that she didn’t deserve it. She did. Especially after she’d given in to the whole angry sex thing. It was the only logical term Kendall could use to describe what they had done last night.
It had been apparent that Sloane needed to let off some steam, that she needed to get the rage out of her system.
Some people hit punching bags. Sloane apparently dished out mind-blowing sex.
Which was the problem, since Kendall had enjoyed it a little too much.
She had enjoyed it to the point where she couldn’t rewind to that moment right before Sloane had led her to the bedroom, to where they were still just colleagues, bordering on friends, to the point where Kendall could still go home and know with certainty that Sloane’s face, her hands, her lips, weren’t going to keep her up at night.
Now, everything had changed.
Kendall had felt something last night. It was a quick little spark, like a firework popping in her chest. It was definitely there. Undeniable. That feeling of excitement, like a rollercoaster about to drop, and she couldn’t wait to get on the ride again, and again, and again.
But whatever feelings Kendall felt, Sloane certainly didn’t mirror them. The woman had looked completely satisfied after sex, but that was it. She had acted as if the moment she had walked out of the bedroom to fetch the bottle of wine; she had forgotten all about it.
Which was problematic, since Kendall wasn’t the casual type.
She couldn’t just bang and move on. She developed feelings quicker than she wanted to and fell in love faster than many women.
Not that she was in love with Sloane. But she was intrigued.
And when Kendall got intrigued, she became invested.
A flaw, perhaps, a glitch in her emotional programming that was somehow able to turn a flicker of attraction into a blazing inferno.
Which was really a problem, since most women in LA just wanted a fun time.
A fling. Hence, why Kendall had given dating a wide berth for the last few years.
It was exactly why she hadn’t really dated at all.
There were just too many women in search of something casual.
Risking the sun’s glare, she turned her head and squinted at the spot where Sloane had fallen asleep last night, sprawled out in her underwear, an empty glass of chardonnay on the bedside table.
But the bed was empty, that side already made, and Sloane was nowhere to be found.
Great. The woman had run away.
“UGH!” Kendall cried, then winced when the sound of her voice pierced her brain like a steak knife. She rolled herself out of bed, slumped into the living room, checking for signs of Sloane, and then shuffled out onto the deck.
The world felt like it was spinning just a little too fast.
Kendall grabbed at the railing to steady herself and took a deep breath in. The air was fresh and hot, and judging by the position of the sun, it was already mid-morning. They’d slept in.
Just then, leaves crackled, and a branch snapped.
Kendall’s head jerked in the direction of the sounds, squinting against the glare of the sun.
There, through a gap in the trees, she spotted Sloane picking her way through huddled trunks and tall, tangled grasses.
She was barefoot, dressed in nothing but a short, silky robe that shimmered like fish scales in the morning light.
“What the hell are you doing?” Kendall called, leaning precariously over the railing, not considering the possibility that she might give Sloane the fright of her life.
But the damage was done. Sloane jumped. Startled, she wobbled on a fallen log she had stepped on moments ago and shot her arms out, trying to get her balance back, but it wasn’t enough. She slipped off entirely and landed on her butt… in the mud.
“What the hell,” Sloane grumbled, pushing herself up, rubbing at her backside, clapping the mud off her hands. “Are you trying to give me a heart attack?”
Kendall, who had already run down the ten weathered steps and was now crossing a patch of grass between the house and the forest, tried to stifle a laugh.
It wasn’t a joking matter. The woman looked like she had gone mad.
“The only thing you’re getting is muddy,” Kendall said. “What are you even trying to do?”
“I was trying to go for a fricken swim in the lake,” Sloane shot back. “Is that so hard?”
The lake was still a good twenty feet away, and not an easy twenty feet either. A jungle of tangled grasses stood between Sloane and the water. It would be smarter to just give in altogether.
“Why don’t you just come back to the cabin?” Kendall suggested. “I’ll make us coffee.”
“Last night was a mistake,” Sloane said, suddenly out of nowhere. She lifted up her dirty robe as she turned around back toward the cabin. “It will never happen again.”
Kendall nodded. She had expected Sloane to say exactly that at some point today, so why did it bother her so much? Why did it feel like her heart was dropping all the way down to her feet?
“I need you to say it out loud.”
Was she being serious?
“Fine,” Kendall shot back, feeling unnecessarily annoyed.
All she needed was to get her dumb, rose-colored heart on board with the fact that Sloane wanted to pretend last night never happened.
Easier said than done. “It won’t happen again.
Now, can you please get back here? We’ve got that meeting with the Stephenson family again, remember? ”
“What meeting?”
“The one where we help them sift through the ashes of their burnt-down home. We’re videoing the whole thing.”
Sloane’s mind seemed to snap into focus again. “Shit. Is that this morning?”