18. Over the Edge
Over the Edge
MARY
“Your house isn’t what I expected,” I wandered across Betty’s pink, floral bedroom.
“What is that supposed to mean?” Betty asked.
“That it’s definitely lower-key. It’s a beautiful house, don’t get me wrong, but it’s just a house.”
“It’s not a palace. I promise you I’m not high-key. I’m a normal woman with—”
“An estate?”
We both snickered, breaking the tension. The house was big and luxurious from what I’d seen but not more than those of some of my more successful industry friends. I relaxed slightly. I didn’t have to be anyone else right now.
I looked outside, spying a large building and arena in the distance. “And there are horses here?”
“They’re locked up for the night, but yes. If you were around longer, I’d introduce you. We have a bunch of Fjords who stay out year-round. They are fluffy ponies. I would dare you to resist them.”
I imagined Betty playing in a field with fluffy ponies. I didn’t have to try too hard.
Feet weary, Betty sat on the bed and pulled off her heels while I tried to figure out where I fit in the moment.
Did I join her? I gathered I could. I kicked my boots off and gazed into her eyes, deep blue in the low light.
A slight smile curled around her lips. Her hand grazed mine, and I squeezed it.
I murmured. “I wanted you to stay in bed with me all day that morning. And then when I found out who you were… I just short-circuited.”
“Why? Because you found out who I was?” Betty dropped her gaze.
“Because of who you are, I know you cannot possibly date women and… darling, I am older than you. I cannot be stuck perpetually in the closet waiting for my not-girlfriend to come out.”
Betty shook her head. “I know it isn’t easy—”
“Your family may be nice and all, but I don’t see how a royal can get away with being out.”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. But it’s not much easier for the straights the more I think about it. Mary, I’ll figure it out. Norway isn’t the UK. They won’t clutch their pearls over a quick ass grab between two married people up here.”
I cocked my head.
“My brother got himself in trouble at a horse trials recently—all because he wanted to be sweet to Ingrid. We aren’t so prudish.”
I thought a moment. I knew the British press were dreadful and uptight, but also that the Scandinavian gossip rags could be harsh.
“Let’s hope I can survive this dress,” she joked, deflecting, “My personal secretary will shit a fucking brick over this tomorrow, but I wanted to see your reaction. I want to make you believe that I want you, Mary. And I want to believe you won’t hurt me.”
She squeezed my knee and settled her eyes on mine.
“I don’t know how,” I confessed. “Only time could prove that.”
She bit her lip. “You could start by getting me off.”
I chuckled nervously “You’re delicious in that dress and I am really struggling here. I want to believe this could all just be fine and you’re not—”
She cut me off with a kiss that would have knocked me down if I wasn’t already seated.
She kissed me harder, drawing me out and making me want to forget everything but this moment.
As she ran her hand up my thigh, I pulled away.
It was still unresolved. I could fuck her for an eternity, and it still wouldn’t remedy our issue.
“I, really, really shouldn’t,” I said. “Whatever this is—”
She raised her eyebrows. “What this is… is something important. Do you want to hear that I don’t want to stay closeted? Will that help?”
I nodded.
“I don’t.” She kissed me again and I basked in it like never before.
Slowly, she chipped away at my fears.
Betty pulled back, nostrils flaring and eyes wide, “I am genuinely so hot for you, Mar. Like… Jesus Christ, I just want to fuck you. But like… for the sake of this whole stupid singing competition, I’m an official host. I cannot hook up with the talent.”
I snickered. “Oh, skatt, you are also the talent. Those cameras are following you—”
“And that is why this… we have to be careful.” She stopped, biting her lip in thought. “Now we just… pretend like there is no one else in the world for a few hours? Now we just get what we both want?”
“And that is?”
“A little slice of heaven where you get me off until I cannot stand it anymore?”
I grinned slyly as she pulled my hand up her thigh.
She whispered, “I wasn’t wearing panties all night. You should really try to take advantage of that.”
“A princess who doesn’t wear panties?” I laughed.
“I know. How did they ever let me out of finishing school? I was rebellious. Do you want me or not?”
“I want you so bad,” I said. “Hopelessly and against all my better judgement.”
We fell back on the bed momentarily, my hand up her dress as we kissed. She wrapped her leg over my hip, opening as I found her desperate clit. She was already wet. Her breath picked up as I slowly touched her with just two fingers. She pulled away, distracted.
“The lights…” Betty gasped. “Sl?ckte lamporna?” She winced in broken Swedish. I realized she thought I didn’t understand her. In truth, I was trying to recover from thinking about her pussy as she described things in my mother tongue.
“I… I just needed a minute,” I said. “Sorry. And… that’s past tense.”
“Look, I am working on TV shows and high school Swedish. Do you want to fuck me or not?” She joked.
“I do, yeah. But leave the lights on.”
She grimaced.
I pulled her close again. “You’re beautiful. I want to see all of you. Let me be selfish.”
With a devilish look, she slipped from my grasp. Standing before me, eyes locked, she unzipped her dress and shimmied out. I sat up, enthralled. As she kicked the garment aside, I took in her soft curves and the way shadows from the low light fell around her.
“What?” Betty asked. “Cat got your tongue?”
“I’m just comparing what I thought you’d look like from the version I remember in a dark haze, Elisabeth.”
One hand on her hip, she asked, “And does it compare?”
“You’re like something out of a bloody renaissance painting,” I murmured.
She stepped closer, parting my legs with her body.
Her hands cupped my face, “That is probably the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me. You’re good at a grovel.”
I turned, kissing her right palm. “It’s just the honest-to-God reality.”
“Why shouldn’t I just torture you?” Betty asked.
“Because I drive you mad and you want me.”
She blushed, then walked to the side. Falling on the bed with a pleasant thud, she smiled. As Betty rolled sideways, I appreciated all of her.
“What? If you want me, you’re going to have to get naked,” she giggled.
“I’m sorry. I’m just not sure how I ended up here.”
“Oh, come on, I’m a mortal like you, Mary.”
“No. It’s just… you are so beautiful,” I said. “I don’t think you realize just how lovely you look. I’m pinching myself.”
She ran hands through her hair, fanning it as she rolled onto her back. “Says the sexy, talented songstress.”
I wanted the entire visual feast of her and couldn’t free myself from all my clothes fast enough. Betty watched, propped up on her elbows.
“Why did you change your hair?” Betty asked. “Can I ask. Like… not to be a dick, but… when we met that first night—”
“The record execs and BBC told me to grow it out. So, now I have this stupid… whatever this is.”
“A lob?”
“A lob?” I laughed. “What?”
“Long bob. Lob. I hate it, too. And… you’re gorgeous, but the undercut really brought out your cheek bones. You have beautiful bone structure. I’m so round in the face it doesn’t matter.”
I lay next to Betty, rolling her towards me playfully. Once more, she locked eyes on me. They were so blue.
“You have a beautiful face. Shut up,” I said. “You missed it?”
“It was edgy. It was fun.” She ran her hand just above my hip, stopping on the tattoo there.
“Did this hurt?” She asked.
“Not as much as the scar it’s covering,” I said.
“Scar?”
“I played hockey in my youth. It’s covering a scar from a skate. I think it was something like twenty stitches.”
“Ouch. You played hockey?”
“My Dad was a hockey player, so yeah. I was a decent forward.”
“You’re so tiny, Mary!”
“Tiny, but mighty.” I traced her arm from her shoulder to her elbow.
“What is it?” Betty asked. “The bird, I mean.”
“It’s a Lark. My mor’s stage name was Lark.”
“Your mom was a singer?”
“She had some disco hits,” I answered. “Don’t poke fun.”
“I won’t. That’s so Swedish of her,” Betty giggled. “And does she still sing?”
“No,” I shook my head. “She passed away a couple of years ago.”
Betty’s brow furrowed in sympathy. I laughed awkwardly, unable to take her seriously in the moment.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t—”
“No. It’s just that you’re adorable. It’s fine. It was a relief. She was so sick in the end. I wanted something to remember her by and to cover up that scar. It used to make me so self-conscious.”
“You really don’t have any other tattoos?” Betty scoffed.
“No. Should I?”
“You’re a rockstar. That’s par-for-the-course.”
“I’m terrified of needles, believe it or not. I know it’s not cool. I took like two Xanax when they did this one.”
“I’m not judging you. I’m just jealous. If I got a tattoo, the world would melt down.
I wanted to get a tramp stamp when I was 18 and my father about lost his mind.
And, to be fair, it would be wasted on me.
You’ve got the back for it—not me. I should get one on my shoulder, but…
again, it would be visible and people would lose their minds. ”
“I cannot believe anyone cares that much! Do what you want. It’s your body.”
“Cut your hair, then,” she said, tit-for-tat.
I snickered. “It’s too butch for the censors.”
She brushed my cheek. “And I’m too pink and cheerful. Too sexy. I think it suits you. Do what makes you happy, baby. Take your own advice.”
Betty gave as good as she got, but also had a point. If I expected her to be out, shouldn’t I at least be willing to choose my own haircut?
As I contemplated if I should argue, she leaned in, nudging my nose with hers, then delicately kissed me. It made me shiver from head to toe in the best way. I pressed her back on the bed, kissing her harder, but she resisted.
“I want to get you off,” Betty said. “I want to focus on you. I still feel guilty about last time—”
“You shouldn’t, Betty.”
“And yet… you just… did you ever think about yourself?”
“I prefer to think about you, Betty. You getting off is what gets me off.”
I saw her protest rising, but continued, pushing her on the bed. Her resistance waned steadily as I kissed down her bare stomach to the tiny tuft of auburn hair above her pussy. As I dipped between her legs, she gasped. I ran my tongue over her clit, desperate to have her say my name.
“Oh, fuck,” Betty shuddered. “Oh, right there.”
There was the demanding side of her I thirsted for. Betty thrust her hips towards me and moaned louder.
“Yes! Oh, fuck, yes!”
She gripped my hair, writhing now as I continued working her over. I listened as her breath hitched every time she rolled her hips. I imagined the flush on her face.
“That feels… so good,” she gasped.
Say my name, Betty. Say my fucking name!
“Oh, fuck, Mary! I’m gonna… I’m gonna come!” She declared. “Oh, fuck! Fuck! Fuck!”
Good fucking girl.
Betty’s legs twitched around my ears as she dug her hands into my hair. “God, yes!”
I’d shaken her to the core. Satisfied, I resurfaced, pinning her to the bed again. Betty’s nostrils flared and her eyes appeared to refocus.
“God, you’re good at that,” she panted.
“You’re satisfied, ?lskling?”
“No.” Betty bit her lips. “Not quite. I want to get you off. I won’t be satisfied until I do.”
I relented, rolling sideways. She slid her fingers down to my wet center, eyes still locked to mine. I resisted the urge to throw my head as she slipped two fingers inside. A sly smile crossed her pretty face.
“Yeah? That’s good?”
“S… so good,” I answered.
“Uh-huh.”
“Do you want me to go down on you?” Betty asked.
“No. I want to look at you while I come,” I said. “Your whole gorgeous face. I want to see what I do to you.”
“Why?”
“Because I want to linger here,” I panted. “I need to bottle this in memory.”
She kissed me gently. “It will happen again. I’m not going anywhere.”
I withdrew, cupping her face. Her expression reassured me. She nuzzled my nose and I kissed her back, feeling utterly lost in Betty’s orbit. Her smell, taste, and the feel of her soft skin heightened the pulse between my legs.
“Go on,” she murmured. “I want to make you come.”
I laced my leg over hers as she thrust her fingers harder within me.
My heart raced as I braced for the orgasm about to overcome me like a fire.
My legs twitched as I gripped her hip as if for dear life.
I came, pulsing around her and letting out a long, slow growl.
I couldn’t have kept it in. I couldn’t have held back.
Betty kissed me. Time stopped as she tenderly moved her hand to my hip, back where she saw my tattoo.
I didn’t know what to say and I didn’t need to.
This was somehow the most comfortable I’d been with anyone in years.
She was young, too pretty, and not at all what I wanted in terms of her career, but Betty was easy to love.
As she rested her head on my chest, listening to my heartbeat, Betty murmured. “It won’t be perfect.”
“What won’t?” I asked.
“This. We won’t be perfect, but we will be enough.”
For a moment, it was enough. For a moment, Betty was everything I needed and longed for. She was proof I wasn’t alone and that I could care for someone again. She was divine. I held her tight, smelling her shampoo. Once more, I never wanted to leave the bed.