Chapter 31 #2
She places her palms on Kim’s thighs, feeling the rough weave of her pants.
She slides her hands up, fingers on the middle of Kim’s thighs, thumbs on the inside.
Up, up, in a meandering caress. Just when her thumbs meet the baggy crotch of the pants, she retreats, back down to Kim’s knees, before repeating the movement.
The baggy pants mean Danika’s thumbs are still centimetres from the juncture of Kim’s legs. She wonders about touching there, but that surely means skipping several steps in this glorious buildup.
Kim’s touch swoops lower, until she can trace the top of Danika’s bra.
Danika’s body is one long hum of pleasure. They’re still only sitting on the couch, both fully dressed, but Danika is molten, already flying high, burning for Kim’s touch.
And then Kim removes her fingers, sits back, puts space between them.
What happened? What did I do? Or not do? The heat of embarrassment surges up Danika’s neck until she’s sure her cheeks are fiery red. “I’m sorry. I’m not sure what I did wrong.”
Kim swallows hard and folds her hands in her lap. She takes a deep breath, straightens her pants that are rucked from Danika’s fingers. “You did nothing wrong and everything right. But it’s time for a reality check. A moment to stop, to make sure this is what we both want.”
Oh. She stares at Kim. “I want nothing more than to…” What is the term here? Go to bed with? Make love to? Sleep with? Have sex with?
Kim tilts her head. “There are no wrong words here. You can use whatever you’re comfortable with.”
Danika raises her chin. “Then I want nothing more than to make love with you.”
Kim’s smile spreads until her eyes crinkle. “I love that you said ‘make love with’. Not ‘make love to’. Because that’s what we’ll do. We’ll make love together.”
Danika’s tongue feels thick in her mouth. “I’m not assuming it’s love. I’m not reading too much into this. We’re—”
“Sssh,” Kim says. “We don’t have to label this, dissect it. It’s us doing what we want to do. And you don’t have to label yourself either.”
She hadn’t even considered that. As Kim says, it isn’t important. What is important is them, in the here and now, alone in Kim’s flat. A king bed in the next room. “What happens now?”
“Whatever you want. Whatever you do when you want to sleep with someone. Or if you want to break old patterns, now’s the time.”
Danika’s lips twitch. “Well, I’m already busting out of my pattern by being here with a woman.”
Kim takes her hands, squeezes them. “That’s not such a difference. I’m sure you already know how to make love to yourself. What you like. I’m not saying it’s the same, but—”
“I don’t know what to do.” The words burst out, and Danika swallows hard. “I don’t know what you want. What you expect.”
Kim grips her hands tighter, lifting them up, then resting them down on Danika’s knees. “I’m just a person, Danika, wanting to make love with another person. I don’t expect anything. We’ll figure this out together.”
The nerves twining in Danika’s chest loosen their grip somewhat. They will figure it out, just as she’s always done whenever she’s slept with someone new. Although that was so many years ago…
She takes a deep breath and leans forward and kisses Kim.
She means it as a gentle kiss, an exploratory one, although they’ve already gone past that point.
But this is starting with intent, with what she hopes will be an end destination that won’t leave her pushing down her frustration and then finishing herself with her fingers.
Heterosexual sex was pleasant, sometimes amazing.
Occasionally, it was the moon and stars and lightheaded giddiness and exhilaration, her body thrumming with satisfaction.
She hopes for the moon and stars with Kim.
Kim returns the kiss. Her hands still grip Danika’s, and her lips move on Danika’s own. The kiss deepens slowly; like wading into a pool of water, it creeps up on Danika, until she’s engulfed by the feelings it brings.
Then Kim breaks away, and her lips map a path down Danika’s neck, pushing aside the soft wool, before Kim bites gently at the junction of neck and shoulder.
Danika jerks in surprise, and an arrow of lust shoots down her body. Kim does it again, her teeth scraping over Danika’s skin.
What will that feel like on my breasts?
“Do you like that?”
She nods. “Can we go into the bedroom?” She feels bold saying the words. She’s always been a follower in sexual things, letting her partner take the lead. But with Kim, she thinks they will be equals. And that starts now.
Kim nods and stands, holding out her hand.
Danika takes it, and together, they walk the few paces to Kim’s bedroom.
Danika’s seen it before, seen the king bed, the fern-green sheets, the family photos.
But since the funeral, it’s changed. The quilt is patterned denim blue, new-looking.
There are still photos on the wall. She freezes in the doorway, suddenly unsure about what she might see, and her hand drops from Kim’s.
She snatches a glance around the photos on the wall.
There’s one of Kim and Bella, laughing over a large bowl of pasta.
Another of Bella and Cami in their soccer gear, arms around each other.
It must have been taken at the soccer camp that seems so long ago.
There are no photos of Chris. His photos are still in the hall, the ones that had so upset her at the funeral, but Danika thinks that they no longer have the power to anger her.
And here, in what is now Kim’s bedroom, Chris has no place.
Kim comes over, takes her hand and leads her the couple of paces to the bed.
She makes eye contact, and her warm brown gaze holds it as she rests her hands on the hem of Danika’s sweater.
A finger dips underneath, traces the skin around the waist of her skirt.
She fingers the hem of Danika’s sweater, then lifts it, bunches it in her hands. “Okay?”
Danika nods, lifts her hands and lets Kim pull the sweater over her head. She’s wearing a sleeveless t-shirt underneath, and Kim disposes of it in the same way.
Danika stands there, feeling faintly foolish in just her bra. A new bra that she may or may not have bought with this scenario in mind. Black, underwired, with a lace edging that is so much more appealing than her usual cotton things.
Kim hums, and her finger traces the top line of lace. “Pretty. But I think what’s underneath will be more beautiful.”
Danika huffs a laugh. “Flatterer. We’re nearly middle-aged women who’ve each borne a child. I don’t know about yours, but my breasts are not beautiful.”
In answer, Kim yanks off her own top and throws it aside. Her bra is the sort of practical cotton Danika often wears, a chocolate-brown colour that looks good against her skin. She unhooks it and shrugs it from her shoulders. “See for yourself.”
Kim’s breasts are fuller than her own, but have the same silver lines that breastfeeding can bring.
Her nipples are larger and darker, and her breasts aren’t…
Danika hunts for the right words. Perky.
Jutting. Artificial. They’re soft, natural.
Even a little droopy, the nipples not pointing straight ahead, but angled out to the sides.
But they are beautiful.
Danika raises her hand, moves closer, traces a line from the base of Kim’s throat where a pulse thunders, down her sternum, between her breasts. Kim’s skin is soft, and when Danika splays her hand, her pinkie brushes Kim’s nipple, which instantly puckers.
Oh! Danika drags her gaze away from Kim’s breasts and seeks her face. Kim’s eyes are slits as she stares down at herself, seemingly enraptured at the sight of Danika’s hand on her breast.
A zing darts through Danika, and she realises it’s pride. Pride that she’s brought out this reaction. She circles Kim’s breast until the final pass is a tight circle around the nipple.
Kim looks up, and their eyes meet. “You feel good.”
“You feel better.” Emboldened, she bends her head and touches her tongue to that hard brown nipple. Kim’s gasp echoes in her ears, and her fingers push into Danika’s hair.
Kim’s nipple tightens further, and Danika teases it with her tongue.
“Let me take your bra off.” Kim’s voice comes from somewhere over her head.
She straightens, puts her hands by her sides, as if she’s not sure what to do with them.
Kim kisses her again, and this time there’s an urgency that was missing before.
Her fingers work around Danika’s back and deftly unsnap her bra.
Danika stands straight as Kim pulls it away, and then Kim’s hands cover Danika’s breasts, Kim’s lips work their way down the side of her neck and continue until her tongue is swirling around Danika’s nipple.
Her knees jerk. It’s so intense, so fierce, so fiery, and the desire is instant. She’s wet, she knows she is, and in the pit of her belly there’s that hollowness of desire, the need for more.
She swallows as Kim tugs her nipple between her teeth, lightly scraping as she did earlier on Danika’s skin.
But this time, she feels it everywhere. It’s as if her skin is a sheet of flame, super sensitive, burning with the need for Kim to cover her, possess her…
fuck her, fill her, kiss her, taste her.
Love her.
She stills with the suddenness of new emotion. No, that can’t be right.
But it can be, and it is.
There’s no time for her to process this flash of knowledge.
Kim straightens and meets Danika’s eyes as she pushes down her loose, nubbly pants, taking her undies with them.
Kim bends, pushes them down, off, away, her socks and Birkenstocks with them, and when she stands, it’s just Kim in her skin, her hair still bound in its wispy plait.
“Too much? Too soon?” Kim’s hands fist by her sides, and a line forms on her forehead.