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Gen noted that the antique furniture had either been reupholstered or it was a modernized replica, because instead of the plush velvet or brocade expected on such a piece, it was covered in a nonporous but butter-soft vinyl, comfortable but resilient to puncture and easy to clean. It gave her vivid ideas of what happened on it to justify that practical design. Lyda shifted her grip to Gen's other hand, holding it loosely between them as she reached out with her free hand, played with a curl at Gen's temple.
"Beautiful color. Much better." Her fingertips slid along Gen's throat. "Fast pulse. Am I making you nervous, Gen?"
"I think that's your plan."
Lyda flashed a smile. "Does that upset you?"
Gen shook her head. She was out of her element, but she didn't want to move. She was hyperaware of Lyda's leg stretched over her thighs, her bent one against Gen's back. She wanted to touch Lyda and be touched by her, and the woman had delivered on that wish.
"Close your eyes."
"Why?"
"Do it and find out. Don't be a chicken."
Gen hedged. "Were you a cheerleader? A popular girl who got whatever you wanted?"
"No." Lyda traced Gen's cheek bone and the soft skin beneath her eye with a fingernail, her thumb following behind to caress the track of the sharp edge. "I was working two jobs to earn money for college. I did think once or twice about bringing a machine gun to the pep rallies, but the narrow-minded college I wanted to attend didn't consider shooting fish in a barrel a commendable school activity, even if it did show individual initiative. Do you think I expect you to obey me without earning your trust?"
"I don't know why you expect me to obey you at all. Do you act like that toward anyone who isn't...like you?"
"Who isn't a Domme, you mean?"
When Gen made a noise of agreement, Lyda stroked her temple, working her way down. Gen lifted her chin, an instinctive desire for Lyda's hand to follow the line of her jaw, down to her throat, tease her collarbone. Lyda did it, bringing the other hand up to cup Gen's face on the opposite side, holding her there as she stroked her windpipe, all the sensitive pulse points around it.
"I expect you to obey me because you want to do it," the woman said. "You want to see where I'm going to take you, Gen. You want someone you can trust to take you nice places. Close your eyes, and I'll do that."
It plucked a heartstring, disturbing layers of emotional sediment. Since Gen wanted to keep the focus on waking her body, not her past, she let her eyes fall shut. Her body was even more attuned to Lyda's touch without the distraction of sight. Gen wanted Lyda to keep touching her this way, all night. But she wanted to do the same, find out what it was like to touch this fascinating woman. Her hands had initially been on her lap, but part defense mechanism, part following her own wants, they'd drifted to the leg in her lap, one resting on Lyda's shin, the other on her thigh. Gen's fingers curled into the thin, stretched fabric of the tight leggings as she closed her eyes and Lyda made an approving murmur at her compliance.
"What did you want me to do when you saw me, Gen? What did you want to do? First thing that comes to mind."
"I wanted to kiss you. Be kissed by you."
"Two different things, aren't they? Which one did you want more?"
"Too hard to choose. Do I have to?"
Lyda chuckled, an erogenous sound. "Keep very, very still. Eyes stay closed. Face turned toward me. If you move, or open your eyes, I'll draw back."
She held her breath as Lyda shifted. The woman's palm slid across her abdomen, curving around her waist, just above her hip. She adjusted the leg behind Gen so it was bowed around her buttocks and hip, and moved the other one off her lap to the floor so Lyda's foot was braced between Gen's, her calf pressed against her shin. It left Gen's hands empty and on her lap again.
Gen held her breath as Lyda's mint-tinged breath teased her lips, her mouth brushing over hers. Her lips were already parted. She felt a touch of Lyda's tongue, tracing her lips, darting inside to caress Gen's tongue. That held breath caught in her throat. Lyda's fingers dug into her hip, and her other hand locked against Gen's jaw, holding her still as she played with her.
A tiny, needy noise came from Gen's lips, spoken into the other woman's mouth. Lyda answered with an incoherent reassurance, one that had a firm note to it, reinforcing the order to stay still. Then she eased back, though she stayed close enough her arm was still around Gen's waist, hand kneading her nape beneath her hair line.
"Let's talk about your weekend with Noah," Lyda said. "I understand you let him give you pleasure this weekend."
She couldn't claim that wasn't Lyda's business, right? In the context of this world, Noah was "hers". Gen nodded.
"Did you like having him come for you? You can open your eyes."
Gen felt Noah's attention in her peripheral vision, even though she couldn't pull away from Lyda's irresistible stare. "I liked everything about him. He's a pleasure to have around."
"He is, isn't he?" Lyda allowed her to look toward the subject of their conversation. Noah shifted into view from behind the couch, where he'd been standing in quiet attendance. He had that absorbed look men always seemed to have when two women were touching one another. Seeing him after having her eyes closed, all of her now quivering from Lyda's attention and kiss, was like the well-timed stroke of a vibrator against her pussy.
Gen bit back a murmur of want as her gaze slid over all the bare skin, the way he looked in the laced pants. She wanted to tug on those wrapped bracelets, let her hands glide up his forearms, spread her palms out over his chest, tangle her fingers in the choker at his throat.
Lyda twisted one of Gen's curls around her fingers and leaned forward. Gen saw the delicate flare of Lyda's nostrils as she inhaled, rubbed her lips over the thick lock.
