Chapter 10 #3
After a couple of minutes, there was only one part of Anne below her neck and above her hips that hadn’t yet been touched. Anticipation made her breasts feel tender, deprived. She arched her back, pushing her chest toward Sadie, a plea without words.
Sadie gasped, shock in her voice. Reached up and tucked Anne’s hair behind one ear. Said softly, “If you could see what you look like—”
She pressed her face into the crook of Anne’s exposed neck, hot breath against her skin, little puffs of air that came fast, then faster.
Kissed her there, again and again, slow and light.
And then, with a little groan, Sadie lowered her open mouth to the base of Anne’s neck, in the little hollow above her collarbone, and nothing she did next was slow or light.
With each stroke of Sadie’s tongue, the hot, wet suck of her mouth, the empty space between Anne’s legs pulled, getting heavier. She moaned, answered by Sadie’s shuddered breath, her teeth’s soft scrape.
“More,” someone said, and Anne was shocked to realize it was her. “More. Please—ah—”
The clasp of Sadie’s fingers pressed into the soft edges of her stomach, a hard spasm, as Sadie sucked at Anne, as they both made noises—small, shocked sounds.
Then, just as Anne slid her hands around Sadie’s back, about to pull her even closer, Sadie abruptly drew away. “I need,” she stuttered, “I need a minute, otherwise I’ll—I don’t think I can—I’ve never—how, how are you doing this to me?”
Panting, Anne leaned back on the bed, onto her left elbow, at an angle she knew she couldn’t hold for long. That didn’t matter, though. All she cared about was Sadie, panting, too, with a look like she’d been struck.
“Do you want to stop?” Anne managed. She’d never wanted to do anything less in her entire life.
Sadie shook her head quickly. “Maybe,” she said, after a moment, “you could take off your shirt. While I watch. I’d like that. Very much.”
So would Anne, who sat up again and immediately obeyed, pulling her shirt over her head.
Sadie’s gaze dropped to Anne’s chest, and Anne knew exactly what she saw: one of her Fleur du Mal bras, black with scalloped lace edges and see-through tulle cups. The one she’d changed into before they’d left for the desert, her fingers clumsy with possibility.
Helplessly aroused, Anne lifted her chin a little. She wouldn’t look down at herself—Sadie could do that for them both.
Sadie wasn’t saying anything. For an impossible length of time, Anne waited. Their rapid breathing was the only sound in the room.
“Touch yourself for me,” Sadie whispered. “Show me how you like it.”
Show me. Anne didn’t have to be told again.
She touched the upper plane of her stomach first, tentatively, fingers wide. For a moment, she stayed still, getting used to the pressure, and then she slid her hand higher, inhaling with a flicker of pleasure as she stroked her left breast.
Sadie stared, her mouth slackening.
Under the lace of the bra, Anne’s nipple was already taut. She pinched it lightly through the fabric, giving herself what she liked, and between her legs, an answering shock flared, violent enough to make her hips jerk.
“God,” she gasped, feeling the scald of Sadie’s stare. “My God—”
“Anne—”
“Please, please, Sadie—”
Before Anne could get out the rest of her plea, Sadie kissed her again, kissed her and kissed her until staying upright no longer seemed possible.
When they next came up for air, Anne had the scratchy polyester bedspread pressed against her back and the glory of Sadie’s weight heavy against her front.
Sadie, her arms braced on either side of Anne.
Sadie lying on top of Anne, scarlet and wild and amazed.
Sadie lowered her head near Anne’s, gasping. “I’m—I’m—I don’t know what—”
Her neck was so close. Anne nudged it with her mouth, and the promise of what she could do was enough to make Sadie’s dizzy sentence hitch on an inhale.
Anne couldn’t help herself. It was her turn. She sucked hard—harder than she’d meant to—tasting salt as she pulled at Sadie’s skin.
Instantly, Sadie moaned. Her hips bucked against Anne. And then—then she reached down and grazed the side of Anne’s right breast, caressing the small, spare curve of it.
Anne let her head fall back to the bed, losing Sadie’s neck. The ache inside her was getting deeper, thicker, made so much worse—so much better—by Sadie’s gentle touch.
“Did you put this on for me?” Sadie asked, still stroking Anne’s breast through the bra. She was propped up on one arm. “This lacy thing?”
Anne was past denial. She nodded.
“You wanted to be so pretty for me, didn’t you? In case we did this?” A sound like a growl purred low in Sadie’s throat. “You thought about me seeing you in it.”
Anne nodded again, unable to hide, but also not wanting to.
“Sweetheart,” Sadie breathed, and she shifted, moving down Anne’s body. Almost before Anne realized what was happening, Sadie dipped her head, pulled down the bra cup, and began to mouth the swell of Anne’s breast.
Oh. Anne let out a little sob. In front of her was the crown of Sadie’s head, that honey-brown sweep of hair spilling over Anne’s chest. Anne could feel it—the brush of those unbound strands against her skin—and for some reason, that sensation above all others deepened Anne’s ache into agony.
And still, still, she hadn’t touched Sadie, not the way she wanted to, not with her hands on Sadie’s skin, all because Sadie was still fully clothed—
“Sadie, please. I need to—need to touch—”
Sadie’s lips closed around Anne’s nipple. Sucked. Hot, wet pressure. Tight.
“OhJesusohmyGod.” Anne arched up, pushing her breast into Sadie’s mouth. Arousal drummed between her thighs, heavier and more insistent by the minute. “Ah—ah—”
A whimper from Sadie, electric against Anne’s wet breast.
“Sadie—have to touch you, please—” Anne was beginning to babble. “Want it. I n-need, oh—”
Sadie gasped, pulling back. “You need to do that?” she panted. “Then you’ll have it.”
She rose to her knees and moved forward again until she was straddling either side of Anne’s chest. If the position made her thighs burn, no strain showed through the haze of desire on her face.
More quickly than Anne could’ve thought possible, Sadie undid the first six buttons of her dress, and through the growing gap, her large breasts emerged, perfectly held by her blush-pink bra.
Then the soft, sweet curve of her stomach.
Throbbing, Anne didn’t hesitate. Couldn’t. She reached up and slid her hands inside Sadie’s dress. Her venturing hands found warm, rippled skin. Plush velvet.
At the contact, Sadie jerked as though she’d been shocked. Then, with a low cry, she arched forward into Anne’s caress.
The room swam.
Anne had never known that there was such a clear and obvious answer to the question she’d never been able to ask herself.
She could have a woman under her hands and discover—with no effort at all—that deep, primal urge she’d read about, heard about.
She could do and be done to and be part of a rhythm that was blessedly, beautifully ancient.
This span of Sadie’s waist was only a small part of her. There was so much more to discover that Anne couldn’t reach from this angle. Above were Sadie’s breasts, a siren call; her collarbone; her sloping shoulders. Below were Sadie’s full thighs, her lush hips, and between those was, was—
She trembled. What if Sadie asked her for more?
Would Anne be able to touch her above and below, too?
And, oh dear God, maybe between, where a hot and swelling place waited that might be like Anne’s own, pleading for more.
What could Anne make Sadie do if she used a finger or the flat of her palm?
Would she get Sadie to shake and clench and burst—
“Oh no, I’m too close,” Anne choked out. Hearing herself admit it made the cliff instantly higher, nearer. “I’m too close, honey—I need to—I’m so sorry, it’s too much, I—”
With a strangled sound, Sadie climbed off her just as Anne yanked down her joggers and her underwear. She brought the first two fingers of her right hand to her mouth and sucked them, getting them slick.
It took seconds. It took a lifetime. Now bare to her thighs, Anne found her stiff clit and whimpered at the contact.
Not long—she wouldn’t need long after the day’s slow tease.
After hours, or years, of wanting Sadie.
After the decades she’d spent pushing her need back, down, away. The unstoppable tide was rolling in.
Then Sadie’s hand gently cupped hers, resting on top of it as Anne frantically rubbed.
Anne cried out, too far gone for speech.
“You’re all right,” Sadie whispered next to her. “That’s it. You’re almost there, sweetheart. All you have to do is let it happen. Yes. Just like that. You’re doing so well. You are, you are, oh my brilliant, beautiful girl, you’re perfect—”
With a sob of relief, Anne came, her body contracting to a single point of dense and unbearable joy. The orgasm pulsed through her in a long series of convulsions, one after another, strong enough to gray out the edges of her vision and disappear the world.
The echoes lasted until Anne wasn’t sure how she could keep on surviving—and then, finally, they faded. Still breathing hard in the aftermath, she felt utterly limp, poured out. Her hand stayed between her legs, not ready to let go.
A soft kiss pressed against the side of her mouth.
Anne opened her eyes to see Sadie smiling at her.
“That looked wonderful,” she said, her voice hoarse with emotion. “I’m so happy for you.”
Belatedly, Anne realized she was crying. Not much, just a little, but moisture spilled when she blinked, uncontained, like every other part of her seemed to be.
She sat up slowly, one palm braced against the bed, and adjusted her bra. By this point, the adrenaline had receded enough for her body to remember it wasn’t thirty anymore. Her neck was already starting to complain; she’d probably pulled a muscle while coming.
Wiping her cheeks with an unsteady hand, she realized something. “Sadie—you didn’t—would you like me to—?”
Sadie scooted back toward the headboard and pillows, wincing a little as she moved. No wonder. She’d been resting on her haunches for a while, and although Anne knew yoga kept Sadie plenty limber, there were limits to what a fifty-six-year-old body could handle without having to pay for it later.
“No, thank you,” Sadie said with a soft, reassuring smile. “I’m very satisfied. That was more than enough for me tonight.”
A little sting of disappointment pricked Anne, but it faded quickly under the larger flood of her overwhelming satisfaction. Tonight, Sadie had said, which meant there would be other nights. Every day had a night. Every day now had possibility.
In the comfortable quiet that followed, she pulled up her joggers, then joined Sadie against the pillows for some much-needed back support, still shirtless. The cool air across her skin felt soothing.
She looked out the window that faced away from the motel and toward the vast desert. At the few stars she could see from this angle. At the sky she’d called out to, the threshold of the great mystery Anne had been taught as a child was the deep veil between this life and the next.
Under the stars, she’d been so damn raw.
Now, in their motel room, she felt just as raw, but in a wholly different way: peeled and tender with relief.
She’d arrived here late, yes, and maybe in the days ahead she’d figure out why it had taken so long to get here.
Or where here was, when you got down to it.
In the aftermath of what she’d just done with Sadie, though, the lateness seemed less important, suddenly, then the arrival itself.
Call it the universe, call it heaven, call it understanding. In childhood, Anne had believed in a separate and unknowable sphere. She’d hoped that one day she’d go there and discover what her parents’ Lutheran minister had called the perfect fullness of grace. The ultimate salvation.
But Anne knew now that she’d been wrong. That sphere wasn’t somewhere separate she’d travel after death.
It was mercy, it was right here, and maybe she could bring it to herself.
Anne leaned her head against the crook of Sadie’s shoulder, ignoring the sharp pull in her neck.
She felt Sadie turn toward her and press a gentle kiss into her hair, the kind of kiss that lingered, that asked to stay a while.
Then, as sleep began to claim her, there was only Sadie, all Sadie, with her mouth against the top of Anne’s head, her breath warm and even, the sweetness of it spreading into Anne’s dreams.