Chapter 20 #3
“I meant everything I said in that email,” Sadie whispered. “Here’s all of me, Anne. I trust you. I do.”
Sadie’s words in her love letter, still on Anne’s laptop screen. You say to your beloved: In opening myself to you I’m giving you the chance to hurt me horribly. But you say, too: The joy you give me is worth any devastation.
A gift. Anne closed her eyes briefly as she received it, and her heart cramped, a sudden spasm of unbearable joy. Not breaking, but a kind of fracture just the same. Like the muscle had shuddered into something open.
“Do you know,” she managed, “somehow, when I wasn’t paying attention, being with you became the thing I need most in the world?”
“I need it more than anything, too. It feels like the night before my birthday when I was a kid. Look, if I pull on the moon, do you think it’ll set faster?”
Anne laughed, sniffling a little, and wiped her cheek. “The sooner I get to see you, the better.”
“Yes,” Sadie said, and there was so much need in her voice that Anne felt a little dizzy. “I’m starving for you.”
“We’ll have plenty of time once they all go home.” Anne hesitated. “I can—I want to kiss you again. If you’d like.”
“I’d like a lot more than that.”
Instantly, heat rushed back into Anne’s face. Other parts, too. “What are you saying? You don’t need more space?”
“I’ve had space,” Sadie exclaimed, “six days of space, five nights of lying in bed and not being able to sleep because I can’t stop thinking about you.
Last night, I was so sleep deprived I convinced myself you’d changed your mind while I’ve been away, that you didn’t want a life with me anymore.
I lay awake at two in the morning, and I could just see, clear as cleaned windows, how it would all unspool from there.
You’d walk away from me and right into the toned arms of Josephine. ”
“Josephine?” Anne managed.
“Your new lover, beautifully accomplished in all things sapphic. She’d be a younger woman, in her mid forties, and tall—honestly too tall—with gorgeous, sleek hair that always stayed in place.
She’d wear demure and tasteful outfits, all in white, because food or drink wouldn’t dare stain her perfect clothes.
You’d call her Jo. Of course, I’d pretend to be happy for you, but, inside, I’d be absolutely boiling with chartreuse jealousy. ”
“I—what in God’s name does that have to do with—”
“With the two of us having sex? Because after I’d worked myself into a frenzy imagining crouching outside your bedroom window while I listened to Josephine filling you out like a job application, I had an epiphany.”
“You—while she did—what? A job applica—”
“Anne,” Sadie said.
Anne succeeded, just barely, in shutting up.
“What I’m attempting to say, very poorly, is that I know I’m ready for you in more than one way. I’d like to try trusting my body with you, if you’re in agreement. Practice over theory. And to be extremely clear: Yes, I mean sex.”
For a few seconds, Anne couldn’t speak, overwhelmed by exhilaration and something deeper, needier. “Are you completely sure?”
“If I don’t have you soon,” Sadie said hoarsely, “I think I’ll go out of my mind.”
Have you. Sadie wanted to take Anne. To claim her. For a second, Anne’s vision whitened.
“Every day, it just gets worse and worse and worse. I didn’t even know it could be like this, that I could want it this much—and now I’ve got your voice in my ear, what am I supposed to—” She gasped, and the sound was a quick and greedy hand that slipped between Anne’s thighs.
“Please tell me I’m not alone. Is it like this for you, too? ”
“You’re not alone. I didn’t know it could be this much either.
Sadie, I can’t stop—” Somehow, it was Anne’s own ragged voice admitting that.
She shifted in the desk chair, already starting to ache.
This was lightning-fast, even for her newly awakened appetites.
“I’ve had to—take care of myself. A lot. ”
“I thought that was what you were implying earlier. How often?”
Reflexively, Anne squeezed the side of her chair’s seat cushion. It shouldn’t be arousing to admit she couldn’t control herself, should it? “At least once a day since Tuesday. Twice yesterday. And that’s not counting the dreams I’ve had.”
“Anne,” Sadie said faintly. “Good God. Do you think about me during?”
“Every second,” she confessed. “You’ve been doing it, too, haven’t you?” A swallow. “Touching yourself?”
“Mm-hmm.” It was almost a whimper. “Tell me. Please. What you’ve fantasized about.”
“You want me to—?”
“I want you to go over, in detail, what you’ve thought about while getting off this week,” Sadie whispered, “and I want to know you’re putting those pretty little hands all over yourself while you tell me.”
Anne choked out a wordless exclamation. Felt herself pulse at the moment she realized what they were about to do.
What did Sadie look like right now? What was she wearing? Her floral-print silk pajamas? Or was she in one of her oversized T-shirts, the kind that hung nearly to her knees? Was she in bed and getting started already, her fingers slipping up one thigh?
If she wasn’t yet, then Anne could make her.
Maybe she’d never done anything like this before, but Anne Lowell always excelled at anything she tried.
Unable to make herself hold off, she spread her legs in the chair and lightly pressed her palm against the warm seam of her athletic leggings. Her heartbeat raced.
“I think about your breasts,” she murmured, arousal overpowering any shyness.
“The way they press against that tight, blue, silk off-shoulder blouse of yours. How there’s always a hint of cleavage, even when your tops aren’t especially low-cut.
How they spilled over the edges of your bra in that motel room.
I think about them all the time now. When I’m driving.
When I’m washing the dishes. When I take myself on a walk.
When I’m touching myself. Like right now. ”
A strangled noise from Sadie.
Desire coursed through Anne’s veins, and power, too. She’d caused that sound. With one hand still between her thighs, she placed the phone on the desk and hit the speaker button.
“Got you on speaker,” she said, probably unnecessarily. “I need both hands.”
“Yes.” Nothing like Sadie’s normal voice at all, rough and shallow. “Yes, you do.”
“Let me tell you,” Anne said softly and then rubbed herself just a little, “what I want to do to you. I’ll stand right behind you and pull your hair to the side, first. Kiss your neck, in that place below your ear. I know what that does to you.”
“I know you know.” The same unfamiliar voice.
“And while I’m kissing your neck, I’ll cup your hips—those beautiful hips. Stroke you there a bit. Then I’ll slide my hands higher, over your ribs, higher, very slowly, until—” She inhaled, caught in her own description. “Do you want me to feel you up?”
“Ah—!” Sadie gasped.
“I thought so. I’ll be sure to take my time. Touch you slowly.” Would she feel Sadie’s nipples through the layers of her clothing? How quickly could she get them tight? Would they be hard before Anne even started to touch her?
“Be gentle, sweetheart.” It was strained. “Make it last a little while. I like that.”
“So gentle—I’ll do it over and over again—”
“I’ll push back into you,” Sadie said shakily. “Getting needy.”
“And then you’ll pull one of my hands down between your legs.”
“Tell me why.”
It wasn’t a real question. They both wanted to hear Anne answer.
“Because you can’t stop yourself,” Anne whispered. She slipped her free hand under her shirt and stroked one breast through her bra, thumb moving over her taut nipple. “You need it as much as I do. Oh God. I’ll be able to feel you. Oh God.”
Sadie’s breath was a rasp. “Continue. Please. What else have you been thinking about?”
“Your waist.” How many times since Sunday had she reached for the memory of Sadie’s smooth skin against her fingers?
It should be worn down by now. Instead, the thought jolted her with the same fresh shock of desire.
“It’s—your skin’s so soft. I’ve wondered if your thighs are the same way.
What they’ll feel like against my mouth. ”
Anne waited for a response and didn’t get one. Just quick little exhalations that told her exactly what must be happening to Sadie on the other end of the line.
“That’s what I thought about when I used my new vibrator this morning,” she continued, flushing hot with the thrill of admitting something so private, “the first time I’ll get to taste you there. The first time you’ll let me go down on you.”
“Oh, that’s it,” Sadie murmured. “Keep going.”
“Put your hand on the back of my head?” Anne hadn’t meant it to sound like begging. “Please? Pull me into you?”
“Where? I want to hear you say it.”
“Your—” She stopped, suddenly unsure. “What word should I use?”
“Anne.” Now Sadie was panting. Her cheeks were probably pink with excitement by now, her eyes burning for it. “God. Anything. Speaker’s choice. Whatever gets you hot.”
Okay. All right. She could do that.
Anne shifted against her hands and ground a little into the one cupped between her legs. Swallowed. Said quietly, “Your pussy.”
She’d never spoken that word aloud in her entire life, had always thought of it as dirty, vulgar. But now, her clit throbbed in response, everything throbbed, she was so fucking warm down there, and—oh, was that—? Was she getting wet already?
Sadie’s inhale was sharp. “Tell me what you’ll do to it.”
What Anne had imagined was a blur, less about careful planning and more about the promise of being overwhelmed: nose and tongue and chin grinding into heat, into soft damp curls, slippery flesh.
She trembled. “I don’t know what to do. I’ve never—Sadie, I want to—I’ll do anything you tell me, I’ll go inside you at the same time, if you like that—”
“All I care about is that it’s you. Anything you give me, I’ll get—”