CHAPTER 27 – NELLIE #2
Sawyer’s eyes narrowed, and Nellie pressed her lips together hard to keep the laughter from getting out again.
“How the other half lives,” Sawyer whispered, echoing Nellie’s words from that fateful office visit that seemed like a lifetime ago.
“Was that a joke? Are you making fun of me?”
“I am doing no such thing.” But Sawyer’s mouth had curved, that small, real movement that she kept well-rationed.
“You are! You’re doing the whole—” Nellie lifted her nose and parodied a posh swoop of the head around the space, which made Sawyer’s grin widen further.
“I’m simply taking in my accommodation.”
“Your accommodation?” Nellie flopped onto the bed and looked up at her.
“For what it’s worth, the birds are extraordinary in the morning.
And there’s something about the trees right at dusk where the last light catches the very tops and—” Nellie glanced toward the rear window, toward the patch of sky where Eleanor’s crown would be visible if you knew to look. “Well, you’ll see.”
When she glanced back, Sawyer was watching her.
Her jacket was over the chair hook on the back of the passenger seat, which meant she’d taken it off without Nellie noticing, and she was standing in just the silk shirt with her sleeves rolled to the forearms. She seemed, Nellie thought, not precisely relaxed—Sawyer would not relax in the next century, probably, it wasn’t in her architecture—but content.
Consciously, deliberately here rather than elsewhere.
“I intend,” Sawyer murmured, “to make the most of it.”
She reached forward and pushed Nellie down onto the narrow mattress.
Nellie fell back with a squeak and half a laugh that she didn’t quite finish before their lips collided.
It felt like seconds. One moment, there had been the sudden kiss and the slightly undignified noise she’d made when her back hit the patchwork quilt, and then there had been—time, presumably, a series of events with logical causal sequence—and now there was the van ceiling above her and Sawyer’s silvery head between her thighs and Nellie was completely naked.
“I want you to know,” Nellie stuttered at the ceiling, in a high voice that was doing its best to remain conversational and only partially succeeding, “that I would never have predicted this about you when we first met.”
Sawyer made a sound against her inner thigh that was not quite a question.
“The—” Nellie moaned loudly as Sawyer swept her tongue over her clit and was very thankful that they were currently miles from civilization.
“You’re very, you know, generous. I didn’t think you’d be—” Her fingers found Sawyer’s hair as her eyes rolled back in her head.
“The CEO thing. You know, you have this whole—” She lost the sentence.
Sawyer’s lips had clamped down and sucked. “You project a certain—oh—”
The laugh she got in return moved through her like a vibration.
“I like,” Sawyer said against Nellie’s thigh, “the power trip.” She pressed a kiss to her pussy. “Of rendering a woman”—two fingers pushed inside her—”completely helpless.”
Nellie’s spine arched off the mattress.
It was the precise attention she gave to exactly the places that made Nellie’s thighs shake, the way she seemed to catalogue every response and file it immediately for future use.
There was no hesitation. There was only Sawyer, taking Nellie apart the way she might dismantle a complex code, except that the outcome was Nellie’s hands white-knuckled in her hair and the sound she made when she came, which was embarrassingly loud and echoed slightly in the confined space.
“Good girl,” Sawyer hummed.
But she didn’t stop.
Entirely outside of her control, Nellie’s hips jolted. “I— Sawyer—”
Her fingers stayed plunged deep. The pace changed, slower now, a different angle, and Nellie felt the oversensitivity cresting into something else, something almost unbearable, the distinction between too much and not enough blurring at the edges.
“Come for me again,” Sawyer said against her clit, and the instruction landed in Nellie’s chest like a key in a lock.
“I can’t—” Nellie pushed weakly on her shoulder. Her hands had gone slightly uncoordinated. “I genuinely, physically— I can’t just—”
Sawyer lifted her head. Her eyes, when they met Nellie’s, were very icy and entirely implacable.
“Can’t you?”Then she wrapped her hand around Nellie’s throat.
Not hard. Just with a divine pressure. Her thumb rested against Nellie’s jaw and her palm held the column of her throat. Nellie felt the weight of it run from her neck to the base of her spine in one long electric current.
Nellie gasped.
Sawyer’s fingers drove into her again.
The relentless rhythm she set, the flat of her tongue dragging over Nellie’s nipple and staying there while Nellie quivered violently beneath her—none of it was negotiable, none of it paused for her gasped protestations or the way her heels scrambled against the mattress.
Sawyer held her down and took her apart.
Nellie’s whole body became a single, unbearable point of pressure, and then the pressure crested and broke, and the orgasm that crashed through her was a full-body seismic event that made her back lift completely off the quilt and her thighs clamp hard around Sawyer’s wrist.
Sawyer devoured every inch of Nellie’s skin she could reach, until she finally decided they both needed a second or two to breathe.
Nellie lay afterward in a condition she could only describe as dissolved.
Then Sawyer moved.
She didn’t ask. That wasn’t the register they were in.
She just rose from where she’d been and Nellie tracked her hazily.
The silk shirt was gone at some point, her silvery hair a mess, and she climbed up the narrow bed with her knees on either side of Nellie’s body until she was straddling her face.
The giver had decided it was time to do some taking, and Nellie gleefully clamped her hands around Sawyer’s thighs at this new development.
Sawyer looked down at her from this new vantage point, and she looked very close to the edge of something. Her chest moved quickly.
“Hello,” Nellie purred up at her and pulled her down.
She swept her tongue in long, hungry strokes and felt Sawyer’s weight shift, felt her hips tilt forward, felt the first involuntary roll of her body across Nellie’s mouth.
Nellie hummed a smug sound of approval, entirely self-satisfied with the way Sawyer was already groaning.
Her thigh muscles were rigid under Nellie’s palms. Nellie gripped her tighter, which meant Sawyer couldn’t retreat even if she’d wanted to, but from the sounds she was making above her, retreating was not on the agenda.
There was a thud—Sawyer’s hand catching the back of the driver’s seat, as her legs began to shake.
Nellie grinned and sucked hard on Sawyer’s clit.
This was it. This was, Nellie thought dimly, the best possible use of her beloved Dolores.
She felt the moment the control fully slipped, in the way Sawyer’s hips stuttered and lost their grinding rhythm, heard it in the sharp exhale above her that broke at the end into something raw.
She felt it in the way Sawyer’s thighs clenched and then shook, a widespread trembling that moved through her entire body.
Nellie did not let up, would not let up, giving the giver a taste of her own medicine as she feasted on her dripping pussy and wrung out every ounce of pleasure.
She would make Sawyer Alburn a mess. A beautiful, quivering, undone mess.
That hand on the driver’s seat headrest held on for dear life.
When Nellie finally eased up—just marginally, just from relentless to slow—Sawyer made a sound that might have been her name or might have been something else, something with no particular linguistic content, just breath and aftermath.
She sank backward, catching herself a split second before she sat directly on Nellie’s chest and then clumsily rearranged her long limbs until she lay against Nellie in the narrow space on the patchwork quilt.
“That was incredible,” Sawyer mumbled into Nellie’s neck, “but, how…?” Her sentence trailed off as she stretched one leg until her knee gave a loud click. Nellie had to bite her tongue against a sympathetic laugh. “How do you live like this?”
Nellie wrapped her arms tightly around her still-quivering companion and kissed her temple.
“With tremendous joy,” she said. “Obviously.”