“Maybe.” I grin. “Though my idea of courting involves a lot more fucking.”
Laine’s jaw tightens, her eyes smoldering as they pin me with her gaze, and I feel the responsive kick of giddy desire deep in my belly. She places the wine and glasses carefully back out, then grabs me roughly by the hips, pulling me closer. My mouth falls open in a gasp the instant before she takes it with a fierce, unyielding kiss. Across my body, synapses crackle with energy, pulsing the heady, delicious news like a heartbeat through every bit of my core:Laine, Laine, Laine,Laine.
One of her hands travels down my ass, grabbing the low curve where cheek meets leg. It’s a tender spot, and her possessive, commanding touch weakens my knees. Her other hand pushes between us, finding my pussy and squeezing it roughly through my shorts. I moan, my body responding to the gruff, physical expression of her desire.
“You’ve been torturing me all fucking summer, boss,” Laine urges into the shell of my ear. “Do you know how bad I’ve wanted to do this to you?”She squeezes my pussy again, and the hot ache blooming there tells me I’m already slick and wet, ready to be punished for my transgressions. “How many times I’ve wanted to turn you around and throw you against the bar, slide your panties down, and devour you?”
I gasp as her hand dives beneath the front of my shorts, finding my throbbing clit and offering the hard, unforgiving heel of her palm to it.
“That night in your window, Zoe, I swear to god.” Her middle finger slides inside me, hooking into me, trapping me.
As if I’d ever want to leave.
“You fucking ruined me that night,” she says hoarsely into my ear, punctuating each word with a bite. “Ruinedme. Do you understand?” I’m trapped, but she is, too, locked in and around my body, pumping into me mercilessly as though making me come into oblivion is exactly the revenge she’s looking for.
“I—yes,” I confess as I clench around her finger. She slides another in, and I suck in my breath, trying not to buck against her. But the hand on my ass urges me forward, her fingers driving deeper within, while mine curl against her neck, crazed with the desire to own her body the way she’s owning mine. The first time, our sex was tentative, exploring, then fell into a delicious stride as our bodies learned each other. Beneath the blindfolds, we were equals, removed from our history together, from my idolization and her indifference. But now, the woman ravaging my body isLaine Woods, and this time, our past charges the very air I’m gasping, mingling with our present, too.
It’samazing.
My frozen fingers turn to sharp points, and I drag my nails up and into her hair. Her mouth falls open, and her eyes flutter back for an instant before returning to mine, even hungrier than before. How many times did I imagine this? Not the sex—when I was in high school, I barely comprehended what that would entail—but her looking at me,seeing me,like this. I feel like an invisible woman, finally given shape and color and recognized at last, and it’s the rest of the world’s turn to be forgotten.
Her eyes fix upon me like I’m the one thing that matters, and I’mhers. She commands me with her hands to come for her, seizing control over me and gripping it tight. And this,this, is the sex I’ve imagined when she walks into the winery like she owns the place, her tanned skin gleaming with sweat. Laine in charge, just like she’s always been.
ButI’mthe boss now.
I pull her head back by the hair and sink my mouth upon her long, luscious neck. She tastes like sun and sweet andLaine, like every horny thought I’ve ever had, and the long, low moan she gives when I run my teeth across her collarbone gratifies me in a primal place, puckering low in my belly. And just like that, the dynamic changes. Now she’s inmythrall, doingmybidding, as I trace the tattoos stretched across her chest with my tongue, kissing and biting in response to the fierce ache she’s building inside me.
“Do you know how muchyou’vetorturedme, Laine Woods? Making me want you so bad Ihurt, then telling me no?” I yank down a strap of her tank top, and her dark eyes flicker to the movement, almost nervous, but her hands keep striding against me, too intent on making me come.
“Well, you can’t stop me now.” My voice is edged with fierce petulance, the words thrilling me becausethey’re true. I yank down the other strap. “You won’t.”
“I won’t,” Laine whispers. “I won’t, baby.”
I slip my hands down the rim of her shirt, the hard knot of her nipples dragging against my sticky palms, and it almost sends me over the edge. Laine Woods here, withme, working my pussy likethat’sthe job I hired her for. Her breasts in my hands, then my mouth, crimping in pleasure from the firm press of my tongue. I’m in utter, delicious control. The Zoe I was, who Istillam sometimes, would happily lie beneath the crushingweight of Laine’s desire and let it pulverize me, squash me like grapes into a glorious nothing, then beg, weeping, for more.
But the Zoe I am now has other inclinations. The kind that want to dominate, command, break down the myth of Laine that’s ruled me half my life and consume it piece by piece.
Because the real thing is so muchbetter.
As I close my lips around a perfect nipple, the final string is strummed within me. The orgasm trembles, shudders, then explodes throughout my body, like a bomb detonated in a steel box. I don’t know how my skin contains these waves of pleasure streaming outward. I don’t know how I’m still standing. I rock into Laine’s chest, the hand cupping my ass steadying me, but still she refuses to let me go. Her palm feels part of me now, devoured by my flesh, and the brief second it’s gone sends me reeling until her rock-hard thigh takes its place. I moan in relief as I grind against her leg, pitiful with wanting. She grips my hips, pulling me down onto her as she drives into me, the pressure so hard it feels like I might split with ecstasy.
When the pleasure threatens to overwhelm me, I push her off, which only kicks the desire in her eyes up more. We’re battling each other again, this time with our bodies and needs instead of words and opinions on wine and how to prune a goddamn vine. Each gasp of the other is a blow, each trembling touch an opponent faltering, and when I yank down the rim of her bike shorts and fall to my knees before her, spreading her legs until her crux is revealed, hard, wet, andmine: victory.
Her hands dive into my hair, pulling from the roots, the pain mixing with the pleasure of making her cry out. I suck her clit greedily, grabbing her ass and holding her to my face.
“You are mine,” I whisper into her, half delirious with the want spiraling through my body. “Mine. Mine. Mine.” I punctuate each pronouncement with a flick of my tongue, circling for the kill as she grips my headand forces me closer. Maybe it’s not normal to bring this kind of competition to sex, this battle of wills and power grabs, but Laine and I have been fighting against each other one way or the other since she got here. Against each other’s views, wants, and needs. Against ourownwants and needs. Against our past selves and perceptions of the other and perhaps even our own futures. Against our fears. It’s been a battle to get this far, but unlike any other fight I’ve had, I’ve never enjoyed the ring more. When she thrusts against my mouth in a wild, fierce release, her moan becomes my proudest achievement.
Fuck honor roll, I made Laine Woodscome.
And this time, she knows it was me.
When we lie back in our bed of grapes, Laine’s arm nestled behind my neck, the fight’s gone all out of me. Out of us both, judging by the way her fingers dance lightly on my skin and the tilt of her head resting against mine. I’m too tired from the long day of harvest and evening of wildly cathartic sex to spin out, which is my normal go-to after a particularly delightful round of orgasms. But tonight, the animal of my anxiety is resting. Maybe somewhere deep inside my brain where it likes to cower, it realizes that catastrophizing would be too easy, too fruitful, too enormous for the dwindling reservoir of energy I have right now. I already depended on her for my family’s livelihood; now I’ve thrown my stupid heart into the mix, too. But while these thoughts usually send my heart racing, all I feel now is sleepy and content. Maybe this is the peaceful resignation that comes in the face of annihilation, when you’re helpless to stand by and watch the beginning of your own end.
But, maybe not, a small voice insists inside of me.
“Tonight’s been perfect,” Laine murmurs into my hair, making my scalp prickle all the way down my neck.
“Mmm,” I agree. “One thing’s left, though. To make it perfecter.”
