Chapter Twenty #3
I am slow to compose myself and I watch in a daze as she slips off my knees and onto the floor. She’s wedged herself between my legs and spread them wide before I can realise what she’s doing when her fingers touch the waistband of my trousers.
“Wait!” I grab her hand and her eyes ping up to mine.
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” I gasp, sounding anything but.
“You want to stop?”
I hold my breath as the answer settles loudly inside me.
“No, I don’t,” I tell her.
“Want me to slow down?”
“No, I also don’t want that. I just… is this what you want?”
Kate blinks at me. “Look at me,” she demands.
I do. I take in her messed-up hair, her short, shallow breathing, and the way her lips are pinker than I’ve ever seen them.
“Do I look like I want this? Like I want you?”
My cheeks heat so furiously I am instantly mortified. Which only adds more heat to the furnace.
“Yeah, you do,” I say.
“Then let me have you.” Her eyes drop to where my hand is still covering hers.
I lift it and she starts tugging the waistband down.
A second later, some unexpected instinct has me lifting my hips and she pulls my trousers down with a firm and efficient yank.
That instinct has me wondering if maybe I’m not as clueless as I think I am.
That maybe I know more than I think I do.
Or that maybe sex isn’t something to be feared or intimidated by.
Maybe I already know what to do, if not in my head, in my body. It’s a new but very comforting thought.
Her gaze is fixed on my thighs as she discards my clothes and before I can even think about how disgusted she must be at the dimples and rolls and just sheer size of my flesh there, she’s grazing her teeth down the inside of my leg.
“Oh…” I close my eyes and throw my head back.
“More of you,” Kate says with an almost obscene satisfaction. I expect there to be more words, but there aren’t.
“Kate, I—” I stop myself when her mouth lands on my cotton-covered mound, wide open, wet and warm. It’s like even with the material between us, I don’t know where her mouth ends and my cunt begins.
“Still okay?” She lifts her head but doesn’t look up at me.
“Still okay,” I confirm.
“Can I take your underwear off?”
My reply isn’t quick enough for Kate.
“I don’t have to,” she adds. “I can easily make you come with them on…” She snaps the band of my cotton knickers that are huge and grey and the least sexy underwear anyone with two braincells could imagine. “But I’d love to taste you.”
When Danny told me about his first kiss with a boy – his brother’s best friend, no less – he said his heart skipped a beat, the same way it did when he kissed a girl.
That was when he knew he was bisexual. I didn’t need that to know I was a lesbian so I actually questioned if Danny was really telling the truth.
Hearts don’t skip beats, unless you have a health issue. I’m sure Kate would agree with me.
And yet, I’m pretty sure that’s exactly what just happened.
I’m not about to ask her for clarification, however, because her bottomless brown eyes are waiting on a reply.
Unsure words are even possible, I slide my knickers off for her.
I don’t think they’ve even landed on the rug beneath us when Kate’s hungry mouth is on me.
Really on me. Her hands push my legs further apart and if I thought she felt hot and wet and perfect through the cotton of my underwear, I’m now discovering I was very, very wrong.
This is perfection. The soft lips, eager tongue and humming mouth of a woman on my cunt is the most perfect feeling in the world.
How did I live so long without it? How do I go on living without it?
I don’t think about that. Instead, I collapse back into the sofa and tentatively hold Kate’s head to me, not wanting her to stop what she’s doing, which is effectively licking and sucking and kissing what feels like a bone-melting orgasm out of me.
I’m convinced it’s going to happen in seconds, so embarrassingly quick, but then Kate is mumbling something into my slick flesh.
“Plll meh aarh.”
“What?” I look down at her.
“Pull my hair!” She lifts her head for barely a second to bark out that command. And then she’s back on me, flicking that devilish tongue over the tip of my clit.
I do as she says, grabbing fistfuls of her dark hair and pulling it at the roots.
She moans. She actually moans.
I do it again.
“Fuck, yes,” she says and I lean forward enough to see one of her hands is moving between her legs.
Oh, she really does like this. She really does want me like this.
It’s the final missing piece in the puzzle that’s my orgasm.
I come. I come and though I suspect it’s a cliché, it feels like I’m a firework, lighting up the sky.
As the waves of pleasure seize and release my body, and I curse and sigh and moan my way through it, all the colours of my world seem to change, become instantly brighter.
When Kate’s moans meet mine, I feel like I’m waking up from the longest, dreamless sleep, ready to really live my life.