Chapter Thirteen #3
Ruby's eyes flew open, meeting Celeste's gaze. The connection between them intensified—this wasn't just physical anymore. The vulnerability in Ruby's eyes, the trust, the sheer intimacy of this moment made Celeste's chest ache even as her body heated with renewed arousal.
“I want to watch you come,” Celeste said, increasing both the vibrator's setting and the pace of her fingers. “Come for me, Ruby.”
“I'm going to—” The rest of her words dissolved into incoherent sounds as the orgasm hit her.
It was intense and all-consuming. Her whole body shook and she cried out Celeste's name over and over, the sound broken and desperate. Her inner muscles clamped down on Celeste's fingers rhythmically, pulsing with the waves of her climax.
Celeste worked her through it, gentling her touches but not stopping until Ruby pushed her hand away, oversensitive and trembling.
“Come here,” Ruby gasped, reaching for her.
Celeste set aside the vibrator and crawled up Ruby's body, kissing her deeply. They held each other as their breathing gradually slowed, skin pressed to sweat-slicked skin.
“That was...” Ruby started, then laughed breathlessly. “I don't have words.”
“Me neither,” Celeste admitted, pressing her face into Ruby's neck.
They lay tangled together, neither willing to move, neither wanting this moment to end. Celeste felt changed somehow—not just physically satisfied, but fundamentally altered by this experience. By Ruby.
“We should probably check out soon,” Ruby said eventually, though she made no move to get up.
“Probably.” Celeste traced lazy patterns on Ruby’s stomach. “Five more minutes.”
Five minutes turned into twenty, and it was nearly noon by the time they finally dragged themselves out of bed to pack and check out.
As they reached the car, Ruby asked, “Do you want me to drive now? You've been doing it pretty much the whole trip. You must be tired.”
“I'm fine. I prefer driving.”
“You mean you prefer controlling everything,”
“Same difference.”
Ruby rolled her eyes affectionately. “Control freak.”
“Guilty.”
The highway stretched ahead of them, the final leg of their journey. Ruby settled into the passenger seat with her tablet, pulling up a movie.
“Oh my God,” she said ten minutes in. “Okay, so the main character just discovered her husband is actually a time traveler, but he's from the future, not the past, and—are you even listening?”
“I'm listening.”
“What did I just say?”
“Time traveling husband.”
“Okay, fine, you're listening.” Ruby launched back into her narration.
“But wait, it gets better. So he's from the future, right?
But he accidentally changed something in the past—our present—and now he's stuck here and can't get back.
And she's all 'why didn't you tell me' and he's like 'I thought you'd think I was crazy' which, fair point, but also, dude, you've been married for five years. Communication!”
Celeste laughed. “You're very invested in this.”
“I'm invested in good storytelling! Or in this case, bad storytelling that's so bad it's entertaining.” Ruby resumed the movie, keeping up a running commentary that was infinitely more entertaining than the actual plot.
“Okay, so now they're in a warehouse. Is there some kind of rule that all action scenes have to happen in warehouses or abandoned factories?”
“I think it's in the screenwriting handbook.”
“Page one, probably. 'When in doubt, warehouse.' Oh no, she's going into the dark room alone. That's against rule one of horror movies—don't go into the dark room alone!”
“This isn't a horror movie.”
“It should be. It would be more interesting.” She made a face. “Okay, I can't with this anymore. The time traveling husband just did something incredibly stupid and I need a break from the nonsense.”
She turned off the tablet, setting it aside and eventually, her commentary slowed, then stopped altogether. Celeste glanced over. Ruby had fallen asleep, her head tilted toward the window.
Celeste reached over, removing the tablet from her lap and setting it in the cupholder. Her hand hovered near Ruby's hair, and unable to help herself, she smoothed back a strand that had fallen across her face.
What would it be like to have this, waking up every morning to Ruby's sleep-mussed hair and ridiculous sense of humor?
Almost without thinking, Celeste took her hand, lacing their fingers together. The contract ushered in a sense of rightness she couldn't explain and shouldn't feel, given their temporary arrangement. Yet holding Ruby’s hand felt like the most natural thing in the world.
Ruby's eyes fluttered open. She looked down at their joined hands, then up at Celeste's face, and smiled. “Hey.”
“We'll be in New Orleans soon,” Celeste said, too quickly. “Another hour, maybe.”
“That's lovely.” Ruby's thumb stroked across her knuckles. Then her eyes drifted shut again, but she didn't let go.
Celeste drove one-handed, unable to pull away. The landscape blurred past, trees and billboards and rest stops, but all she could focus on was the weight of Ruby's hand in hers.
What if they didn't have to end this? What if she was brave enough to want more than stolen moments in hotel rooms?
That was impossible, she thought. She had too much to lose. Moreover, Ruby deserved someone who could love her publicly. And Celeste couldn’t be that person, no matter how much she might want to.
But as she drove, Celeste allowed herself to hold onto this moment. What mattered was having a good time now. So she'd take these few days to hold Ruby's hand and make love to her and laugh at her ridiculous movie commentary.
She'd let herself be happy, even if it was temporary.
Even if it would break her heart when it ended.
Because the alternative—walking away now, protecting herself before the fall—felt infinitely worse than any pain that might come later.
At least this way, she'd have the memories.