I lean down and press my mouth to her collarbone. She inhales sharply and I do it again, a little lower. Her hand comes up into my hair.
I drag my mouth down to her chest and lift my eyes to her as I close my lips around her nipple. It's bizarre — my mouth on another woman's breast, something I've watched men do to me a hundred times and never imagined doing myself. Then I twirl my tongue around it slowly and Maggie's breath hitches, and thewhole thing flips. Her response goes straight through me and I want to do it again, harder, just to feel her react.
She licks her lips as she watches me and encouraged, I run my hand up the inside of her thigh and feel her tense, her knees parting.
"Tell me what you like," I murmur against her skin.
"You're doing great, Sloane." Maggie moans when my hand moves higher, over her sex, until I meet the top of her waistband.
"Can I?"
"Please."
I work the button open and she lifts her hips for me. I draw the shorts down her legs along with what's underneath. When I drop them on the floor she's completely bare and I take a moment to look at her again — all of her this time.
"Come here," she says quietly and I lower myself back over her and kiss her while my hand finds its way down between us. Her thighs part for me and when I touch her she's so wet that a small gasp leaves my lips.
"Oh, fuck," I whisper against her lips.
Maggie laughs low in her throat. "That's what you do to me."
I explore her and find the place that makes her hips lift and stay there, slow at first, then steadier as her breath starts to climb. Her mouth is open against mine and every sound she makes feeds back into me until I'm almost dizzy from it. I never knew I could want like this or give like this. Both things at once.
When I slide a finger inside her she draws in a sharp breath and her hand tightens at my neck.
"Sloane —"
"Is this okay?" I whisper.
"Yes. So good. Just don't stop."
I find her rhythm — slow and deep at first, learning what makes her moan and squirm underneath me. Her hips meet meon every stroke and when I add a second finger she groans into my mouth and grips me harder.
"Like that," she murmurs. "Just like that."
I keep going, and somewhere underneath the rhythm I notice my own hips are moving. Maggie's thigh is between my legs and I've been pressing down against it. The realization arrives at the same time as the heat does — a low, building pull that I didn't expect to feel again so soon.
A moan slips out of me and Maggie's hand drops to my behind, grips me, and pulls me harder against her thigh.
"Come with me," she whispers. "Don't stop. Come with me."
Maggie's brows draw together and her mouth falls open, her head tipping back into the pillow while her body begs me for more. Her hand finds mine where it rests on the mattress and her fingers tangle through mine. It's so intimate, holding her hand while I'm kissing her and inside her, that it brings a lump to my throat.
Then her breathing becomes ragged. I feel her tighten around my fingers and her whole body draws toward me.
"Sloane, I'm —"
I lose the rhythm of everything except her hand in mine. Maggie's body locks against me, her grip on my behind almost painful, and she shudders through it with a low, broken sound. I follow her over the edge a second later, my hips pressing down hard against her thigh, my forehead against hers.
We lie still until our breathing gradually slows. Her chest rising against mine and mine against hers. I close my eyes and let the warmth of her skin be the only thing I'm aware of because I'm thoroughly shaken and afraid to analyze this.
When I finally slide my hand out from between her thighs she draws a sharp breath, then a slower one, and she wraps her arms around me and strokes my back.
The first tear catches me by surprise. It slides down the side of my face and onto Maggie's shoulder.
"Sloane? Are you okay?"
I can't speak yet. I just shake my head against her, because I don't have the words, and another tear follows the first.
