Chapter 25
CHAPTER
TWENTY-FIVE
BECKY
Becky’s heart thundered in her chest. That really happened—was still happening.
Wren had pulled her in for a kiss. And even when they weren’t mad at each other, it still carried the same heat and intensity.
But it was softer somehow, in a way that Becky couldn’t quite name.
It was like when they were playing together instead of against each other. That thought made Becky’s breath catch.
She backed Wren up, gently this time, neither of them frantic for once. Wren pulled back with a soft laugh. “Hang on, hang on.”
“Is everything okay?” Becky asked, trying to catch her breath.
Wren nodded and quickly leaned forward to press a kiss to Becky’s cheek. “Yes, but we’re doing this right. Right?”
Becky nodded, agreeing. “Yeah.” A small, nervous laugh broke free. “Yeah, I think so?”
“Okay. Then would it be weird if I showered and brushed my teeth?” Wren scrunched up her face a little bit.
“Sorry, I just keep thinking about how sweaty I got while dancing and that I taste like six flavors of alcohol and I just”—she paused, taking a deep breath.
“If we’re doing this for real, I want to do this right. ”
Becky softened, because good God, Wren Eames was everything that she’d ever wanted. “Yeah, that’s fine. I should, too.”
“We have to take turns though,” Wren said, letting her eyes drop decidedly to Becky’s chest.
“Oh?” Becky asked. “Why’s that?”
“Because we’re doing this right, and I don’t want to shove you up against a shower wall.” Wren bit back her smile.
That got Becky to snort out a laugh. She nodded towards the shower. “Well, go on. Hurry up then.”
Wren was leaned back against her headboard when Becky emerged from the bathroom, very sexily wearing pajamas. The one downside of Wren’s great idea was that they went from looking really hot in club outfits to wearing shorts and baggy T-shirts.
It had also given them time to think. This wasn’t like the time before, caught up in the moment, the tension between them ratcheted up too high to stop.
No, this was thought-out and thoughtful.
Becky hadn’t ever really had sex under these conditions before.
Not since camp all those years ago, and even that hadn’t been nearly this discussed.
That thought made Becky stop in her tracks.
She’d really never had pre-meditated sex before.
In every instance she could recall, she’d been caught up in the moment, doing what felt good.
Sure, it might have been after a date or after flirting for a while, but she’d never had time to stop and think about it beforehand.
“Are you okay?” Wren asked, frowning a little.
Becky nodded, probably too quickly.
“We don’t have to do this if you changed your mind in the shower,” Wren said, her voice sounding a little concerned.
“No,” Becky said, quickly dismissing the idea. “No, I really want to do this. I think I just realized how much I want to do this.”
The frown that had furrowed in the center of Wren’s forehead melted into a tentative smile. “Me, too,” she whispered. She pulled back the covers, making it easier for Becky to get into bed with her.
“Lamp on or off?” Becky said, wishing there was a happy medium as she got situated under the covers.
Wren frowned at the light before taking her shirt off and draping it over the shade. The effect was perfect. They could still see, but it wasn’t nearly as bright.
Becky’s eyes drank Wren’s body in. She couldn’t help it.
She wanted to trace Wren’s abs with her tongue.
Instead, she traced the tattoo Wren had up the entirety of her left side with her pointer finger.
Obviously, Wren hadn’t had any tattoos when they were teenagers—and they hadn’t exactly been sharing the last time something had happened between them—but if they were doing this right, Becky wanted to ask about all the ink on Wren’s skin.
“When did you get this?” She asked, her voice barely above a whisper. She leaned down and pressed a kiss to each flower.
Wren’s breath hitched. Becky noticed that each kiss pulled an involuntary twitch from her. She looked up at Wren, but didn’t move away. She fully intended to kiss every inch of the artwork in front of her.
“When I was twenty,” Wren said, her voice a little shaky.
Becky kissed down the stem of a rose. “Does it have a meaning?”
Wren nodded. “Yes. But—um—it’s kind of sad, though?”
Becky froze. “Should I stop?”
Wren shook her head, quickly. “No, that feels good. Just the tattoo—it was a bouquet from my grandma’s funeral.”
“Hmm,” Becky said, letting her fingertips trace the petals on a daisy. “It’s beautiful. I’m sorry about your grandma, though.”
“It’s okay. Thank you for asking about it. I’ll tell you about her sometime.” Wren let out a small laugh. “Just not when we’re doing this.”
“I would love that,” Becky said, pressing one more kiss to it, before tracing her fingertips over the ridges of Wren’s abs. She couldn’t help it. Thankfully, Wren didn’t seem to mind. Her whole body continued to twitch under Becky’s gentle touch.
“Can I take off your shirt?” Wren asked, her eyes soft and searching.
Becky sat up to help Wren rid her of her shirt.
Before she could settle back down next to Wren, though, Wren’s hands cupped her face, pulling her into the world’s softest kiss.
Their positioning was awkward, with Wren still mostly leaned back against the headboard and Becky half sitting next to her, but their kiss was somehow still perfect.
She didn’t want to fall forward on Wren, so she adjusted them both. She slid her arm under Wren and pulled her down in the bed, settling down on top of her. Wren broke their kiss with a startled laugh.
“What?” Becky asked, frowning.
Wren smiled up at her. “You can do that so easily. You did it in your bedroom, too.”
“What are you even talking about?” Becky resisted the urge to get self conscious.
“You just slid an arm under me and bam, moved me.” Wren leaned up and kissed her again. A soft, gentle kiss. “It’s hot. But it also made me laugh because I wasn’t expecting it.”
Becky fought her own smile and resisted the urge to call Wren tiny and flingable. She’d probably flung Wren enough. Instead, she just nodded. “I’ll do my best to ask for permission—or at least give you a warning—next time.”
Wren rolled her eyes playfully. “You’re such a dork.”
“Don’t be rude. I could move you off this bed.”
“No.” Wren shook her head, leaning up and kissing her.
Their bare chests pressed against each other with the motion.
Wren’s skin was soft and warm. Her arms wrapped around Becky’s shoulders, keeping Becky pulled to her.
Wren shook her head again when she broke their kiss. “We’re on the same team tonight.”
A warmth spread through her. Her heart slammed against her chest. “Deal,” Becky whispered, closing the gap between them.
Wren kissed like her life depended on it.
Becky was glad there weren’t any visible clocks near the bed.
They were able to take their time, savoring the moment and each other, exploring each other in peace.
When Becky genuinely couldn’t take it any longer, she finally let her fingertips trace the hem of Wren’s sleep-boxers.
“Yes,” Wren whispered, lifting her hips off the mattress.
Becky tugged, as gently as she could muster, urging the boxers off Wren. She was doing her best to not move too quickly. They were good at that together. They were fantastic at colliding. But if playing together had taught Becky anything, it was that patience with Wren was far more rewarding.
She leaned back and enjoyed the view. Wren could have been carved in stone by Michelangelo himself. Every inch of her was perfection. Becky let her fingers touch and trace. They swirled around the phases of the moon tattooed on Wren’s hip.
“When did you get this one?” She asked, turning her attention to Wren’s face.
Wren was watching her with an expression that could only be described as awe.
“That was my first tattoo,” she said, her gaze shooting down to Becky’s fingertips and then back up to Becky’s eyes.
“I had just turned eighteen and I didn’t want my dad to know I got a tattoo.
” She let out a laugh. “So, I got it on my hip.”
Becky readjusted herself, hovering inches over the ink. She kissed each phase, seven in total in Wren’s tattoo. Other than full and new, Becky genuinely didn’t know the names for them, but she didn’t care. If Wren liked them, she did, too.
“Does it mean something to you?” Becky smiled up at Wren, more than a little aware of the fact that repositioning like this had her perfectly settled in between Wren’s legs.
Wren nodded, her movement a little shaky. “Yeah.” She tapped the first moon in the phase. “That’s a waxing crescent. That’s where I felt like I was when I got it.”
Becky actually focused on Wren’s tattoo for a second. The waxing crescent was the smallest sliver of a moon on its path to being full again. “Where are you now?”
Wren pointed to the next phase.
“What’s that one called?” Becky asked, kissing it again.
“First quarter,” Wren answered, though her voice was barely above a whisper. She didn’t pull her hand away. Instead, she cupped Becky’s cheek with it. “You’re so pretty.” Her voice was barely more than an exhale.
Becky turned her head to kiss Wren’s palm. She’d never actually felt that pretty, but hearing Wren say it like that made her believe it. Wren’s thumb caught on her lip and without much thought or preamble, Becky sucked the digit into her mouth.
Wren’s jaw dropped, their tender moment immediately fused with hunger. Becky pulled back, releasing Wren’s thumb with a filthy pop.
“Fuck,” Wren whispered.
Becky held back her cheeky comment, and instead dipped lower.
She traced her tongue up the inside of Wren’s thigh, savoring the way Wren’s legs immediately fell apart for her.
Becky felt Wren’s hand tangle into her still shower-damp hair, squeezing desperately as Becky finally flicked her tongue over Wren’s clit.
“Fuck, Rebecca,” Wren moaned. “Just like that.”
Becky fought the urge to grin, focusing instead on earning more of Wren’s delicious praise.
It wasn’t just Wren’s words, either. Every inch of Wren’s body was proving her pleasure.
Goose bumps trailed in the wake of Becky’s fingers as they traced up Wren’s abs, pausing only to cup her breasts.
Becky’s thumbs circled around Wren’s pebbled nipples, delighting in the way Wren’s hips twitched in response to the attention.
Wren’s back arched off the bed, her whole body begging Becky for more.
“Rebecca, please,” Wren whined. She rocked her hips upwards, grinding her clit harder against Becky’s tongue.
Becky leaned back, smiling. She could feel Wren’s pleasure, already coating her lips and chin. “Please what, Wren? What do you need?” She wanted to hear it. She’d do just about anything Wren asked her to—so long as she got to hear Wren ask for it.
“Go in me,” Wren whispered, her voice dripping with devastating need.
Becky wasn’t sure which of them moaned louder as her middle and ring finger sank into Wren. She shifted up in the bed, draping her body over Wren as much as she could without reducing her ability to move her wrist and hand. She wanted to be as close to Wren as humanly possible.
Wren’s fingers were still tangled in Becky’s hair and she used them to tug her in for a messy kiss. Becky liked the pull, the slight sting of it. The way Wren seemed to relentlessly want more. How Wren was absolutely panting into her mouth in time with the thrust of Becky’s fingers.
“Fuck, that’s perfect,” Wren moaned, all notion of kissing abandoned. “Don’t stop, Rebecca. You’re perfect.”
Wren’s whole body flexed around Becky’s fingers, every inch of her pulled tight like a bow string.
“Come for me, Wren,” Becky whispered, her lips grazing the length of Wren’s neck.
With the softest, sexiest whimper Becky had ever heard, Wren’s orgasm washed over them both.
Wren’s grip in Becky’s hair tightened, pulling another rough moan from Becky’s chest. Every cell in her body wanted to bite and suck Wren’s neck in response, but she wasn’t foolish enough to leave any marks—not when they’d be back in a crowded locker room with their team for a cooldown practice the very next day. So, she kissed and licked instead.
After every drop of Wren’s orgasm had been wrung from her body, Wren relaxed back into the mattress. She released her grip in Becky’s hair. “Fuck,” she whispered, her whole body trembling. “That was amazing.”
“Yeah?” Becky asked. She eased her fingers out of Wren and immediately sucked them into her mouth, settling her full weight down on top of Wren as she did.
Wren didn’t even wait before Becky’s fingers were fully clear before she pulled Becky into another kiss, determined to taste herself on Rebecca’s tongue.
Becky broke their kiss with a breathless laugh as she felt Wren’s hand snake down in-between them. “I can flip over,” she said, still giggling a little.
Wren shook her head. “I don’t want you to.” She grinned up at Becky, her brilliant green eyes shone gold in the shirt-darkened light.
“Then what,” Becky’s words were cut off with her own gasp as Wren’s fingers dipped lower, stroking gently over her clit.
A low moan rumbled from Wren’s chest. “Jesus, Rebecca. You’re soaking wet.”
Becky nodded, unable to produce words. Wren’s fingers felt too good, sliding deeper, gathering her desire. “It’s your fault,” she finally managed, her words muffled by Wren’s neck.
“It’s my fault that you’re so wet?” Wren asked, her voice rough and sultry.
It should probably be embarrassing, just how much Wren’s voice truly did for her. “Uh-huh,” Becky whimpered. Her hips rocked forward, seeking more friction.
Wren hummed with pleasure. “Yes,” she whispered. “Do it again, Rebecca,” her voice was a little louder now, a little more commanding.
Becky rolled her hips again at the instruction without hesitation, groaning as her clit found purchase against the entire length of Wren’s fingers. “Oh, shit,” she moaned.
“That’s it,” Wren said, before sucking Becky’s earlobe into her mouth. “Keep going,” she breathed.
And Becky did. Her hips canted into Wren’s fingers, each stroke a little shakier, a little more desperate, than the last. She wasn’t going to last long like this.
“Fuck, you’re stunning,” Wren whispered, kissing her with surprising tenderness.
And with that, Becky came, hard.