26. Sloane
Sloane
Iwake up with a throbbing between my legs. At first, I think it’s my clit demanding attention again. A couple of orgasms just isn’t enough to satisfy months of neglect.
The throbbing isn’t my clit, although it’s catching up quick. Eden is between my legs with our favorite vibrator set on a low, slow pulse. She’s trailing it up my thighs, kissing and biting as she goes.
She’s gentle at first, tracing the toy over the inside of my knee, then the soft flesh where thigh meets hip, taking her sweet time because she knows I’m already desperate.
I breathe in through my nose, out slow, trying not to give her the satisfaction of a begging whimper this early in the game.
She presses her tongue just above my pubic bone, a line she follows up with a nip of her teeth, then a soothing kiss like she’s apologizing for the bite.
The toy pulses against my skin, each tremor growing warmer as she edges closer.
My cunt clenches hard, emptier than it’s been in weeks, and I arch my hips, not even pretending it’s accidental.
Eden laughs, low and hungry, and shifts the vibrator so it catches me right against the center.
She doesn’t start at my clit—that would be too easy.
Instead, she circles, nudging the vibrator around my labia, up and down each side, making the inside of my thighs slick and shaking.
I can’t remember the last time I felt this exposed: every nerve raw from the previous night, my body still loose from coming so hard I bit my own tongue.
She slides a finger in alongside the toy, not even all the way, just the tip at first, teasing me open in a slow spiral.
There’s no chance of my keeping quiet. I moan, sharp and high, and try to grab at the bedsheets, but she’s already pinned my wrists above my head, one-handed like she’s barely trying.
“Good morning, Bishop,” she murmurs, and pushes the toy up against my clit, finally, so hard I see spots.
“Fuck,” I hiss, and she grins like it’s Christmas morning and she’s just unwrapped her favorite toy.
She lets go of my wrists to spread my legs wider before sliding two fingers in, palm up, finding that spot on the first try.
The toy is relentless, vibrating straight through my bones, and her mouth follows right after, licking and sucking every inch she can reach.
It’s overwhelming, all of her focused on me, and I’m not sure if I want to come or crawl out of my own skin.
I dig my heels into the mattress trying to fuck myself on her hand, but she holds me down, thumb on my hip, her body braced between my knees.
She’s got her hair up in a messy knot, the undercut grown out just enough to look dangerous.
There’s a pink smear of paint under one eye, probably from yesterday’s studio marathon, and I want to taste it, but I can’t move. I can barely breathe.
She knows exactly when I’m about to lose it.
She hums against me, and the way the vibration travels through the toy and her hand and into my pelvis makes my legs spasm.
I shout her name once, twice, the sound rough in my own ears.
She works me right through it, fucking me with her fingers and keeping the vibrator in place, not letting up even when I’m so sensitive it feels like too much.
When I finally go limp, she climbs up the bed and kisses me slow, letting me taste myself on her tongue. I’m shivering, but she’s the one who’s shaking, her hands trembling against my jaw.
“You okay?” she whispers, brushing my hair off my face.
I nod, but I’m not sure that’s sufficient. I claw her in, wrap my arms around her and roll until she’s beneath me, her thighs open, the scent of her already blooming thick in the sheets.
“My turn,” I manage.
She laughs, but it’s half a gasp, and I realize she’s just as wrecked as I am, maybe more.
I straddle her, grind down on the hard muscle of her thigh, and feel how wet she is through the thin cotton of her boxer briefs.
I want to devour her, but I slow down, taking her cue from before and making her work for it.
I drag the vibrator over her clit, through the fabric, until she’s bucking up into me, panting.
“Don’t tease, don’t tease, please—”
I slide the boxers down and she’s already swollen, glistening in the morning light. I kiss the soft skin just above the patch of hair she keeps so neatly trimmed. I then dip my tongue down and in, slowly, savoring the salt and sweetness and the way her whole body trembles at the first touch.
I don’t make it gentle. I want her to remember this.
I want her to remember that I can still unravel her in six and a half minutes flat.
I fuck her with my tongue, with my hand, with the toy pressed hard against her until she’s a gibbering wreck, legs locked around my shoulders, her nails leaving crescent moons in my back.
She comes so hard she nearly knees me in the chin. I love it. I love her.
We collapse together, tangled and sticky, laughing for no reason except that it feels good to be alive, to be together, to know that this is still ours after everything we’ve been through.
Afterward, we shower together, Eden standing behind me, arms wrapped around my middle, her chin digging into my shoulder as we watch Olivia on the baby monitor through the glass door. Our daughter is drooling on her own fist, eyes wide and unblinking.
“You think we scarred her for life?” I whisper, half serious.
Eden grins. “She’s three months old. She won’t remember.”
I lean back into her, letting the water run over both of us. “I might, though,” I admit. “I haven’t felt this good in forever.”
She kisses the back of my neck, her voice warm and rough. “You deserve it.”
We finish up, get dressed, and wrangle Olivia through her morning routine. She’s heavier every day, a small universe of needs and moods, but she looks up at us with that ridiculous “O” face and I feel my heart do a weird, grateful flip.
By noon, the house is a chaos of burp cloths and laundry and paint rags, but neither of us cares.
I catch Eden watching me from across the kitchen, hair still damp, a clementine wedge tucked between her teeth. She winks, and I blush, and it’s embarrassing how much I already want her again.
I leave Eden to paint for a while. She seems to be in a much better place than in the past couple of weeks.
I am too, I think. My body seems to have adjusted to the no-sleep rule, and I don’t feel so overwhelmed anymore.
I’m checking in regularly with Dr. Chen and she’s happy with my mental state, as am I.
I’ve managed to take a step back from work like I planned, but I know I’ve still been working too much.
I think it’s mostly to stop my brain from turning to mush.
There is only so much baby talk I can handle.
I need to keep my mind sharp and focused on things other than poop, breastfeeding, and singing lullabies.
Mom has invited me over for brunch, which I’m overly excited about because she will fawn over Olivia while I eat my bodyweight in bread. Win-win!
Mom answers the door in her “Gardeners Do It With Their Hands” apron already dusted with flour. She makes a show of gasping at Olivia, like it’s the first time she’s seen her granddaughter in weeks.
“She’s gigantic!” Mom exclaims, snatching her from my carrier before I’ve even unlatched it. “You’re feeding her, aren’t you? Look at these cheeks! You could use them for a pillow, Sloane.”
I let my mom baby the baby while I drop my shoes in the entryway and take an appreciative sniff of the air.
There’s fresh bread, coffee, something citrusy.
I shiver and follow Mom into the kitchen, where she sets Olivia on the island in one of those bucket-style bouncers.
My daughter immediately tries to eat the fake fruit centerpiece, which is both on-brand and deeply worrying.
“Sit,” Mom orders, pointing to the barstool with the least cat hair. I obey because it turns out that even at thirty-one, I still want my mother’s approval. Also, she’s made lemon cake, and I have no shame.
I watch her bustle around the kitchen, relishing how little has changed.
She’s still got the same bun, now streaked with silver, and she’s wearing a t-shirt from some long-ago art walk that honestly should have been banned by the taste police.
She pauses to adjust Olivia’s bouncer straps, then pours me a glass of cloudy lemonade and slides a massive wedge of the cake my way.
“Are you sure it’s okay to put her up there?” I ask, eyeing the bouncer—half expecting Olivia to launch herself across the room like a baby cannonball.
“She’s fine,” says Mom, already one step ahead of me. “If she goes airborne, I’ll catch her.”
I don’t doubt it.
We eat in companionable silence for a few minutes.
Olivia makes happy gurgling noises and tries to suck her own toes.
Mom watches her with the kind of soft, laser-focused attention she used to give to seedlings in her greenhouse.
Like if she just stared hard enough, she could will the baby to be perfectly healthy and happy and weird forever.
I’m about to ask how Mom’s latest charity event is shaping up when the door opens and Becca waltzes in just as she has always done.
“Sloane!” she calls, clearly not expecting to see me. “And little goblin!”
“Hey, sweetie,” I say, leaning into the hug. It’s been an age since the three of us have sat together in my mom’s kitchen eating and gossiping.
“Oh, cake,” Becca gasps, immediately extracting herself from me to eat.
“Where’s Bel?” Mom asks.
“Conference call,” Becca mumbles through a mouthful of food. “Then another call after that. I’ve got a ton of orders to ship out, but I needed a break.”
“You’re doing so well, honey,” Mom coos at Becca, making her blush with pride.
“Thanks, Mrs. B. Now, how is Eden?”
I sigh because now I have to tell my mom about Liz and Rick moving.
“I already know, sweetheart,” Mom says before I open my mouth. “Liz and Rick told us a while ago. It wasn’t our place to say anything until they’d had a chance to tell Eden.”
Nodding, I smile at Olivia, who is doing her poop face. “Eden’s doing better. I think she’s finally processed it.”
Becca eyes me with suspicion before a grin breaks out. “You totally got laid.”
Mom titters into her drink as I blush. “I did, thank you for pointing that out.”
Becca shrugs. “You’re welcome. So, is that the reason Eden’s feeling better about everything? She’s on a post-orgasm high?”
Of course, my dad chooses that moment to walk in.
He looks at me, my mom, and then Becca before swiftly turning on his heel and leaving again.
We all crack up. My parents are no prudes, and they’ve injected themselves into my private life plenty of times over the years, so I know he’s just messing around.
“No, her realization came before—”
“She did,” Becca snorts.
“Becs.” I laugh.
She waves her hand. “Sorry, it was just right there. Please continue.”
“Before we got frisky.”
“She’ll be alright,” Mom adds, reaching over and squeezing my hand.
“I know. It’s just sucky timing. We’re both tired and Eden relies on her parents as much as I do you and Dad.”
“We know, honey, but you’re both killing it. Eden is much stronger than she realizes.”
“Oh, I know, Mom. She’s my rock. I just want to make sure I’m there for her like she is for me.”
Mom cocks her head. “What do you mean by that?”
Pulling myself a little taller, I check on Olivia, who is still mid-shit, before continuing. “Eden has always known what I need. Even in the hard times, she puts her feelings to one side and gives me what I need in that moment, no matter how hard it is for her. I want to do the same.”
“You already do that, S,” Becca comments, inhaling another wedge of cake.
I nod, because I think I give Eden what she needs, but I’ve never been in a position where I’ve really had to do what Eden has done for me in the past. Until now.
“Eden is getting more commissions and gallery time in London. Her parents are moving there. Jenna and her grandparents are already living there. I think we need to seriously consider whether our future in the US.”
Becca just stares at me. Mom puts her glass down. “You’re thinking of following?”
“Eden hasn’t said she wants to, but I’m reading between the lines. There are opportunities for her in the UK.”
“She’s kicking ass with her art here!” Becca declares.
“She is, but I think she’d really thrive in London. She’s given me everything, guys. All my dreams have come true because of Eden, and I want to make sure she gets the same deal.”
“Sloane—” Becca begins but is cut off by my mom’s hand on her shoulder.
“I can’t say I’m not sad about the idea of my only daughter moving so far away, but if this is what you and Eden need, we’ll support you.
Your father and I love you, Sloane, and we’re so desperately proud of everything you’ve achieved.
Eden is a wonderful woman who has given you her all, and as your mom, I couldn’t love her more for it.
I just ask that you keep us updated. We’ll help where we can. ”
“Mom, it’s not even on the table for discussion yet. Eden might surprise me and think the idea is ludicrous. I was just saying my thoughts out loud.”
Becca twists her face like she’s trying to poop, too. Olivia is still giving it her all.
“Pia will lose her mind. Hell, so will Bella. But, if this is what you want, I’m behind you, S. Jenna will love having you close by, if that’s what happens.”
I hold up my hands. “Like I said, these are just my inner ramblings.”
Inner ramblings that I’m sure are spot-on. We’ve skirted the idea before, but it was always in a joking, hypothetical way. Now? Well, now I think we need to reassess what our future looks like.