Chapter One #2
Meanwhile, Isla had survived a photo shoot in a wind tunnel and worn clothes so tight she thought she might suffocate.
She’d done photo shoots underwater, holding her breath for nearly as long as Kate Winslet in Titanic, and she’d once eaten nothing but a single chicken breast and two sprigs of broccoli a day for a whole week just to fit into a sample-size latex dress that smelled like balloons.
But still, the only thing people ever wanted to talk about was the minutiae of her elimination on Outlast Her.
“That’s nice,” Isla said, grabbing another egg roll to go. She didn’t care about the big reveal; Mallory could guilt her tomorrow. “I have to go,” she added quickly, not bothering with the duck sauce, though it would be missed. “It was nice to meet you.”
She stepped past the woman and toward the door.
But then the woman caught her arm. Her fingers flexed right where Isla’s muscles softened near her elbow.
“You were definitely my favorite contestant from the beginning,” she said, her voice smooth and silky.
Isla was suddenly reminded of a shoot she did with a silk scarf wrapped around her shoulders.
It had felt like a whisper across her skin.
This woman’s voice was no different. “I almost stopped watching when you were voted out.”
Isla didn’t know what to say. “Ummm...”
Not that the woman seemed to care, because she was already stepping forward, even closer. “I always told my friends that if I were to meet you, I’d kiss you.”
And then, before Isla could laugh or step back or do anything useful, she put the egg roll on the counter without a plate. Her sister would surely kill her.
Then the stranger closed the gap between them and kissed her.
For a second, Isla let it happen. She allowed the stranger’s pillowy lips to linger on her lips.
Then she surprised even herself and let the stranger’s tongue slip into her mouth.
Her breath tasted both sweet and tangy. Gin, lemon, cherry and simple syrup.
The cherry made sense. The stranger had finished a Tom Collins.
Which was the same drink Isla had wanted to get earlier.
Clearly, that meant that this interaction was meant to be.
Yes, Isla decided this was fate. Which was why she let the stranger lead her out of the kitchen and into the hallway that led to the bedrooms. And why she was the one to suggest the powder room Mallory had decorated herself. Isla had never been inside, but she had been curious.
They both paused.
The walls were plastered in peony wallpaper that looked like someone had sneezed an entire bouquet against them.
Blobs of pink, coral, and blush all swirled together in all directions.
The marble floor was black and gleamed like a frozen lake at night.
A small, oval basin sat atop a vanity of glossy white lacquer with gold trim, and above it was a mirror with elaborate gold filigree that reflected both their astonished frowns.
Isla nearly thought the sexy moment was ruined by the gaudy decor, but then the woman shut the door with a kick of her boot and pushed Isla up against the left wall, right beneath a golden photo frame of, you guessed it, a single peony.
“I’m Tamsyn,” she muttered, kissing Isla’s neck. “Tamsyn Lott.”
The vibration of her voice was so delectable that Isla felt a tug beneath her belly button.
“Nice to meet you, Tamsyn,” Isla replied, albeit a little breathily.
The room felt inadequately ventilated. Or maybe Tamsyn was the reason she couldn’t get enough air into her lungs.
Not that Isla minded. She had no time to check for a vent.
And she certainly didn’t have time to worry about this being a bad idea.
Surely kissing a stranger in her sister’s powder room wasn’t exactly a good idea.
Before Isla could thoroughly think things through, Tamsyn was kneeling in front of her.
She glanced up at Isla through long eyelashes as if asking for permission, which she really didn’t need, because yes.
Yes, Isla was more than happy to have a woman in this position in front of her.
Then Tamsyn brushed two fingers, her nails polished a deep red, against the waistband of Isla’s faded blue jeans before going straight for the zipper.
The next moment, Isla’s jeans were at her feet and Tamsyn’s mouth was pressing against the fabric of her satin underwear.
Was this real? Or had she spaced out talking to Chad and somehow conjured up an entire scene in her head that didn’t exist?
But then Tamsyn kissed her center. Her mouth was warm even through the fabric, and Isla didn’t have to wonder anymore.
This was real. It was beyond real, and Isla was already wet.
Soaked, in fact, by the time Tamsyn tugged Isla’s panties down and let them pool at her ankles.
More than soaked when Tamsyn gently tapped Isla’s calves, instructing her to widen her stance.
And then finally Tamsyn angled her head slightly and slid her tongue from Isla’s entrance all the way to her clit, and Isla couldn’t help herself.
Her hands went straight to Tamsyn’s hair.
She pulled at the silky curls as Tamsyn urged Isla’s legs further apart and then gripped a little too hard when Tamsyn’s mouth closed around her clit.
“Fuck,” Isla muttered, almost doubling over.
Tamsyn murmured something, but Isla was too busy trying not to pass out from pleasure.
Tamsyn’s tongue flicked over and over that small bud of nerves, and then it moved away, gliding toward her entrance before dipping inside.
Meanwhile, Tamsyn’s hands were doing a dance of their own.
One had slipped beneath Isla’s lacy top and was now fondling her tits.
The other had a hold of Isla’s thigh. Her nails were short but sharp.
The feel of them pressed into her skin was just as delectable.
There was a knock on the door.
Tamsyn jerked her head back and flicked it toward the door. “Occupied,” she called.
Then a man’s voice said, “Tam, is that you?”
“I’m busy. Give me five minutes,” Tamsyn called back.
“Fine,” the voice said. “Meet me at the bar when you’re done.”
Before Isla could ask who that was—not that she cared; in fact, she didn’t care about anything else right now—Tamsyn’s mouth went back to her clit, and Isla moaned as the woman’s tongue made contact.
Then she moaned again. She couldn’t help it.
The moans were ripping out of her throat so fast it was like they refused to be contained.
“Shh,” Tamsyn muttered. “Trust me, the last thing we want is Mikey to hear us.”
Who was Mikey? But Isla didn’t get a chance to ask because Tamsyn was alternating between sucking her clit and swiping it with her tongue. Then she nudged Isla’s legs even further apart, and Isla wished a bed could magically appear so that she could open herself completely.
“Faster,” Isla muttered, her head pushing so hard into the back of the wall that it hurt.
But the pain somehow added to the euphoria, and the way Tamsyn’s tongue sped up was mind-blowing.
Then, all of a sudden, Tamsyn brought in two fingers.
Just a single pump in and out was enough ammunition.
A second later Isla’s orgasm was smashing through her, tearing at her nervous system, wobbling her legs to the point where she wasn’t sure she could stay upright.
But it didn’t matter because Tamsyn somehow seemed to predict this. She steadied Isla’s leg with her free hand and slowed her tongue. Then the licking stopped. Now there were just light kisses that felt like butterfly wings against her skin.
Isla nearly doubled over. Instead, she drew in a long, invigorating breath and tilted her head back against the wall. The peonies were blurry. She blinked them back into focus and found herself staring at Tamsyn as she stood up and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.
“I hope you enjoyed that as much as I did,” Tamsyn said.
Isla opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Tamsyn seemed unbothered by her lack of response because the next moment she was kissing Isla again. Her lips were warm and wet. Her hands were on Isla’s side. Then the kissing stopped, and Tamsyn stepped away.
“I have to go,” she said. She brushed a strand of hair out of Isla’s face, smiled, and walked away.
The door opened and closed, and Isla was still rendered completely speechless.