CHAPTER NINE #3
"I know." Constance kissed her again. "I like it," she added, just for the pleasure of seeing Isabel blush.
She wasn't lying: the experience of having Isabel pleasure herself in her arms had left her hot all over with arousal, and wet enough that she could feel herself dripping into the bedclothes.
Isabel must have sensed this – or simply felt it by proximity, for Constance was sure she was giving off enough heat to boil a pot of water – for she looked back at Constance and said, "What about you?
I mean, do you want –" The gesture she made was haphazard, but Constance took her meaning.
Constance laughed, leaning back against the bolster. "Don't worry about that. I can manage it myself."
"Oh." Isabel flushed again, her eyes darting down and then back up. Her gaze sparkled with daring, but it wasn't until she spoke that Constance realized why. "May I – see? Watch?"
Of all the things Constance had thought she might say, that wasn't one of them.
The thought was enough to make her shudder with excitement, a fresh wave of heat roiling between her legs.
Isabel watching her, Isabel's eyes wide and fixed on her hand moving between her legs, Isabel stirred enough by it that she would carry those memories home with her to revisit in the dark of the night with no company but her own hand – wanting it, allowing herself to want it, because there was nothing poisonous in the memory, Constance had erased that, she could think of her body as something good, something worth touching – "I'd like that," she said, and if her voice was somewhat breathless, she didn't think Isabel would mind, "a great deal. "
Isabel swung her leg to the side, climbing off of Constance and laying next to her on her side.
Constance lifted her hips enough that she could wriggle free of her shift and kirtle entirely, leaving her bare but for the hose she'd never bothered to remove.
She slid a little further down, so that the bolster was only supporting her head and shoulders and set one foot on the bed with her knee bent.
The other leg, she bent and then let slide down, so that nothing impeded Isabel's ability to see what she was doing.
She brought one hand up to squeeze her breast lightly.
"Would you like to touch me?" she asked. "While I touch myself?"
Isabel's eyes were as round as two full moons, and nearly as bright. "You like me touching you," she said, and there was only the hint of a question in it.
"Of course I do." Constance caught Isabel's hand and brought it to her mouth, kissing her knuckles.
"I – love it." She'd been about to say something else, but caught herself at the last moment: this wasn't the time for it.
Perhaps it never would be. "The way you feel.
You're so gentle, but I can feel how much you're enjoying it.
I want that. Knowing you're finding pleasure in it. "
She let go of Isabel's hand, and Isabel let it drift down to gently stroke the dip between Constance's breasts. "I thought you might," she said, so softly. "That is – I thought you might have your pleasure of me – but I didn't think I would."
"But you do?" Constance said. It was, perhaps, a redundant question after the past half-hour's events, but she didn't care. She wanted to hear it.
Isabel ducked her head, not quite fast enough to hide her blush. "I do," she said. "I – so much."
"Then go on with it," Constance said, shifting a little so she was easier for Isabel to reach. "I want you to. Please."
Isabel went on, the faint pressure of her fingertips against Constance's skin almost ticklish.
She wasn't touching with any kind of intent, just exploring, and that was somehow even better.
She was finding what she needed, Constance thought, seeking out the touches that brought her the most pleasure.
It was exactly what Constance had wanted for her, and the thought of how it must be affecting her only redoubled her own arousal.
She sighed, letting her head tip back against the bolster as she slid her hand down over her stomach and through her curls, until her fingers finally sank into her own slick heat.
She had denied herself long enough that she no longer had the patience to draw the experience out, so she pressed her fingers down hard against the spot where she could feel the blood beating under her skin.
She didn't bother to swallow her gasp then, and she felt Isabel's sharp inhale beside her, her hand flattening against Constance's hip where her exploratory touches had led her.
"Oh," she said, and when Constance looked at her, her eyes were fixed on the place where Constance's fingers disappeared within the swollen, glistening pink flesh of her cunt.
"Oh," she said again, and let her hand drop to the inside of Constance's thigh, tightening her grip.
Constance moaned, speeding up the movement of her fingers.
It was good, so good, but it wasn't enough; she needed something inside to clench down on.
She slid two fingers easily into her body and curled them until she found the angle she was looking for.
She moaned again, and Isabel matched her breath for breath.
One hand was still squeezing her inner thigh; the other was pressed to the soft flesh of Constance's stomach, like she was trying to brace herself.
"May I," she said unsteadily. "I – I'd like to kiss you. "
"Please," Constance said, and turned her face towards Isabel for better access.
The first collision of the mouths was messy and uncoordinated, but then Isabel shifted closer and Constance sat further up against the bolster, and then they clicked perfectly into place.
Isabel's tongue was in Constance's mouth, hot and wet and probing, and her hand had moved up to squeeze her breasts and play with her nipples and Constance was moving her fingers faster and faster in time with the slide of their mouths, whining high in the back of her throat, her hips moving of their own accord and it was so good, it was all so much, that she only needed to press her thumb down just a little harder against the spot at the top of her cunt where she needed it most and then the world went white.
She was aware, distantly, of the noises her climax ripped out of her, but she couldn't bring herself to care.
Isabel tore herself away from Constance's mouth with a gasp, but Constance – her eyes closed, head thrown back as she gave herself over to waves of bliss – couldn't see what she was doing, nor the look on her face.
She worked herself through it, wringing every last drop of satisfaction out of her body until she was left sensitive and spent.