CHAPTER ELEVEN #4
"Oh." The single syllable - more of an exhalation than a word - seemed to come from somewhere deep in Constance's body.
Her eyes were round as she looked at Isabel, her expression - Isabel assumed - a mirror of the way she herself had looked at Constance only minutes earlier.
"Oh, Isabel." She'd taken her hands away when she took off the shift, but now they hovered at Isabel's sides. "May I -"
"Please," Isabel croaked. Constance did not need telling twice: she put a hand on either side and let them glide up and down, fingers dancing over Isabel's skin.
She sought out every divot and rough patch, soothing over old scars - a pit on her shoulder from a blemish that had burst, a raised ridge on her hip from falling off a stone wall and getting scraped on her way down as a small child - and rubbing with her fingertips until every inch of Isabel's skin tingled.
Constance was still kneeling between Isabel's slightly parted legs, leaning forward just far enough to let her reach all the places she wanted to touch.
If she leaned any further, she'd fall on top of Isabel.
The idea frightened and thrilled Isabel in equal measure.
"Here," she said, putting a hand on Constance's arm and tugging gently.
"Up, on the bed -" As she spoke, she slid backwards so that there was room for Constance to climb up.
She did not appear to need telling twice, scrambling up until she had a knee on either side of Isabel's legs, bracing herself against the bed with one arm.
Isabel had to tilt her head backwards to look Constance full in the face.
She waited for the familiar chill that always came over her when she was pinned down or caged like this.
It didn't come. She knew she was safe with Constance - she'd known it for a long time now - and it seemed her body finally recognized it, too.
Isabel slid back a little farther, so that their faces were level, then leaned forward to brush her mouth lightly against Constance's.
Constance moved to mirror her. They weren't kissing, not quite; they were breathing together, hot and humid, every inhale bringing them into slight, glancing contact.
Every time she breathed in, her chest and shoulders rose, and the motion made her breasts brush against Constance's.
It was agony. It was bliss. Her legs were shaking. She needed more.
"Will you?" she said into the close air between their mouths. "Please. I want you to."
She didn't specify what she wanted, and Constance didn't ask.
She closed the gap between their bodies with a kiss, bringing her free arm up to wrap around Isabel's back and settling herself so that she was sitting in Isabel's lap.
Isabel could feel the brush of her damp, wiry curls against her leg; she was wet already, she realized with a start, just from this.
Just from a few glancing touches and a single kiss.
She wasn't wet yet, and the thought made fear rise in her for the first time since Constance had taken off her shift.
Would she be able to at all? Was Constance going to be offended if she noticed? Was -
"Isabel." Constance pulled back from the kiss, bumping their foreheads together in the process.
The hand resting on her back was flat between her shoulder blades, rubbing slightly where Isabel had gone tense.
She felt her face flame, and ducked her head, but Constance only kissed her forehead. "It's all right," she murmured.
Isabel kept her chin tucked against her chest. "You don't know -"
"Yes I do." Constance kissed her forehead again.
Isabel had meant to say, you don't know what's wrong, but then she realized it didn't matter.
Constance had heard, you don't know it's going to be all right, and hastened to assure Isabel that she did.
That it would be all right, no matter what the trouble was.
Heat prickled behind her eyes, and she blinked rapidly.
Crying the last time had been humiliating enough; she didn't intend to give a repeat performance.
Constance kissed the side of her head, her mouth now level with Isabel's ear. "What do you need?" she murmured.
Isabel pressed her face to the curve of Constance's neck, breathing deeply until she felt some of the tension ebb out of her body.
"I think," she said, "if you were, ah. First. I would rather.
" At least that way, she could be sure Constance was satisfied before she ever reached for her.
If she truly wasn't able to force her body to obey her, if Constance found her as cold and dry as Geoffrey had - at least she wouldn't be too disappointed. She hoped.
Constance trembled in her arms. It took Isabel a moment to realize she was laughing.
"You make it sound as though I were doing you a favour," she said, pulling back far enough to brush a brief kiss against Isabel's mouth.
"I assure you, it's quite the opposite." She sat back, her full weight now on Isabel's legs. "How do you want me?"
Isabel felt herself blush again. "I don't know.
How do - I mean, how should I -" She had vague, half-formed images in her head of Constance sitting astride her, moving up and down, her hips rolling as she chased her pleasure.
But she wasn't at all sure how that would work, with two women.
She also remembered Constance's earlier talk of counterfeit members, and although she was quite sure she wouldn't want to have such a thing used on her, she thought she might enjoy wielding one.
But that was not a conversation for tonight.
"Mmm." Constance wriggled a little on Isabel's lap, which scattered Isabel's thoughts entirely.
"Your fingers, if you wouldn't mind. Like this?
" And she slid forward a little, close enough for Isabel to get a hand between their bodies if she tried.
"I'll tell you what feels good. You're clever; I doubt it will take you long to find your way. "
"Such things you say," Isabel muttered. "Should I start now, or .
. . ?" One of the things she had always hated about sharing Geoffrey's bed was how little time he allowed her to prepare herself: she was always on her back and being thrust into before she had time to draw a deep breath.
But Constance was wet already, and eager.
"You've started already," Constance said. "Unless I am gravely mistaken as to what we've been doing for the past quarter-hour. But if there's anywhere else you wish to lay your hands . . ."
It was as clear of an invitation as she was going to get.
Isabel put one hand on Constance's lower back to steady her and hold her in place, and shuffled backwards until her back was to the wall, keeping her upright.
That done, she was free to use both her hands as she pleased, and what she pleased was to bring them up to cup Constance's breasts, rubbing her thumb over Constance's left nipple.
Constance gasped, tipping her forehead against Isabel's, her hips shifting restlessly.
Isabel had meant to duck her head and kiss Constance where her hands were working, but she couldn't do it now.
No matter; she kept her left hand where it was, and trailed the right one lower, stroking the soft skin of Constance's stomach and down to her hip.
Constance huffed, rolling her hips with intent now, but Isabel held fast. Holding Constance by her hips felt different than holding her breasts, but no less satisfying: the sensation of Constance moving and flexing under her fingers was endlessly fascinating, and more than a little exciting.
She gave Constance's hip an experimental squeeze, and Constance groaned, trying to grind down against Isabel's lap.
She couldn't, not really; the angle wasn't right.
But her meaning was clear. With some reluctance, Isabel took her hand from Constance's hip and slid it down between their bodies, through the thatch of rough hair until she brushed against the wetness beneath.
"Like this?" she murmured. She was barely touching Constance, just petting outside her entrance, but Constance was already making low whining noises in her throat as she strained to meet Isabel's hand.
"Yes," she said, and when Isabel looked her in the eyes, they were dark and glazed with lust. "But more - please - touch me, please -"
A wicked thought struck Isabel then, and it was nearly enough to make her giggle.
"Like this?" she said, keeping her voice innocent, and slid just the tip of her finger past Constance's lips before withdrawing it.
Just that brief touch of hot, wet skin inflamed her.
She felt so good. It oughtn't feel good, when all she was doing was using her fingers - this was for Constance's benefit, not hers.
But that didn't stop the fire spreading all through her limbs.
The thought that just touching someone was enough to stoke her desire had never occurred to her before. It still felt a little unreal.
"Isabel," Constance said. Her voice was thick. "You, you - I want - I need, please - I need you, I need, I need -"
There was real desperation in her voice now. Isabel took pity on her and slipped two fingers between her lips, stroking firmly up and down. Constance let out a shuddering breath, and took Isabel's face in both her hands, kissing her deeply. Isabel pulled back enough to say, "I can't when you -"
"I know, I know," Constance panted. "I'm sorry. Just -" She bucked her hips, making Isabel's fingers slide in her wetness. "Harder. And a little higher, if you - ah!"