I try to pull away, but Lex stops me.
“Aubrey, listen. Your identity is valid—it’s just, I’m worried you’ll regret this. Regretus. And change your mind. And...” She sighs. “I don’t want to lose you.”
I begin to understand. Her uncertainty isn’t about me, or my identity; her concern is the same as mine: that we’ll realize what we have isn’t right and we’ll lose not just a lover, but a best friend. It’s the same way I felt last night before I told her I had feelings for her.
I tell her the same thing I told myself. “Sure, we may crash and burn, but I’d rather take the risk and know for sure than be too scared to try.”
Lex’s eyes shimmer. She nods.
“And, okay, so no, I haven’t really considered dating women before,” I try to explain. “I’ve always found women attractive. I’ve foundpeopleattractive—I don’t necessarily think gender plays a role in whether someone is hot or not. But when it comes to dating, I guess I’ve just always been more comfortable with men. I can tell when they’re flirting. I can tell whenthey’re interested. I know what’s expected of me, I understand the power dynamics. And it’s been drilled into me, culturally, my whole life, thatthis is what I want, this is what I should do, this is what my life should look like.But with you...” I cup her face in my hand, caressing my thumb over her cheek. “I didn’t think about any of that. I just wanted to be with you, in any way you’d have me. Being with you feelsright. It feels like this is the way things are supposed to be.”
Lex nuzzles against my hand. “I know what you mean.”
“Holding you feels right,” I say, tucking myself closer under the blankets. “Touching you feels right.” I trace my hand from her face, down her neck, my fingertips skimming her collarbone before trailing a line down her arm. I look into her eyes, watching the effect I have on her, intoxicated by it. “Kissing you feels right,” I whisper into the space between us.
Lex wastes no more time, drawing me close, bringing our lips together in a slow, tantalizing embrace. Instead of locking together she graces me with soft kisses—teasing, tasting, savouring. I want more. So much more. My entire body aches for her in a way I’ve never experienced. It’s more than a physical need, more than carnal desire; I need her in a sense bordering on spiritual, as if connecting with her is the key I need to unlock something deep inside me that I never knew existed until I realized I’d fallen in love with her.
“I want you,” I breathe against her lips.
“Will you still want me after?” Lex’s voice is so quiet I barely hear her, her question riddled with so much uncertainty it makes my heart ache.
“I will want you after,” I say, kissing her jaw. “I will want you tomorrow.” I kiss her cheek, where her dimple likes to hide. “I will want you the next day and the next day and the next.” I pepper her soft skin with more kisses, taking my time, going slow, infusing every single one of them with all the care andlove I feel at the centre of my soul. God, why does she feel so fucking good?
I bring my lips to hers, closing my eyes, relishing the minutia of each sensation she brings with the flick of her tongue, the slide of her lips, the warmth of her mouth.
Lex grinds her hips against mine, drawing our centres together, and my god it’s the most delicious sensation I’ve ever felt. I have to pause our kissing for a moment to savour it, to appreciate it fully, before continuing. The next time she moves her hips I move with her, against her, and a zing of sharp electricity jumps from my centre deep into my belly. Lex runs her hand down my back to my hip where she squeezes the soft flesh of my waist, fingers digging into my skin and pulling me taut against her as she rocks again, and again, and again, finding a steady pace, in rhythm with the throbbing need in my core, pulsing in time with my heart.
Just as I’m getting used to this Lex grabs me and rolls me over until she’s on top of me, our legs threaded between each other’s, her thigh still pressed against me where I need it most. I can feel how slick I am against her, just a narrow strip of damp cotton separating us. She parts her lips from mine long enough to look down at me, her blue eyes darkened by wide, black pupils, plump lips parted, chest rising and falling with her breath.
I tug at her shirt and Lex helps me peel it off her, revealing an inch at a time her pale creamy skin, her rounded belly, and then her breasts—god, they’re perfect. Small, but wide, fallen slightly with age and having cared for her son, her nipples eager and looking like they need to be pinched and sucked and nipped. I bring my hands to her body, over the soft skin of her abdomen, my fingers delicately tracing the stretch marks she’s earned, then up to her breasts. I knead and squeeze, exploring her body, relishing how her back arches with my touch, howher eyes flutter closed, the way her lips part and she gasps when I give her a little pinch.
Then she takes one of my hands in hers and guides it to her lips, drawing a finger into her mouth. Her tongue is warm and wet, flicking over my fingertip, which sends a shocking jolt right to my clit. I watch in reverence as she sucks my finger into her mouth, then begins rolling her hips against mine in time to the movements of her lips and tongue. My eyes flutter closed, almost overwhelmed by this new stimulus. She adds another finger, sucks harder, slides my fingertips to the back of her throat. I squeeze my thighs over hers and grab hold of her body as if she’s an anchor.
God, I could...Can I come from this? I... I think I might be able to. If she just keeps grinding on me like this, putting pressure against me like that, tantalizing my sensitive fingertips with her tongue, I might.
Lex draws my fingers from her mouth, slick and wet. I look up at her, sad it’s ended, to find a mischievous gleam in her eyes. Holding my hand in hers, she guides it down to my own body, lifts the elastic of my panties, and slides my hand between my legs.
“What are you doing?” I ask, my voice shaky and uncertain.
“I want to watch you come,” she says, matter-of-fact, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.
I blink several times, confused. “I thought making me come was your job?”
Lex laughs, her smile so fucking radiant in the dim light peeking through my blinds. “We can get to that later. For now, I want to watch you.”
I don’t move, still confused. Lex places her hand over mine and begins guiding me. It’s not like it’s the first time I’ve fucked myself; I’m a modern woman. I’ve had lots of time to learn about my own body and how to bring myself pleasure, butdoing it in front of someone else? The thought alone is hotter than any hookup I’ve ever had.
Lex’s gaze heats as she watches my fingers sliding between my thighs, circle my clit, graze my entrance beneath my panties. Her hand slips from mine and works its way up my tank top to my breast where she makes a low, throaty sound as she squeezes and kneads. She pulls at the neckline of my shirt to reveal one of my nipples, groaning low in her throat. Lex brings her mouth to my neck, to my throat, then down to my chest where she sucks my nipple into her mouth. I arch my back as a zing lights up my belly, sending a jolt to my centre, that quickening sensation already building in my core.
“Bring your fingers inside yourself,” she says between sucks of my nipple, her voice a commanding whisper.
I do as I’m told, slipping two fingers in as far as they can go, cupping my pussy, my palm flat against my clit. Lex presses her thigh back against me, pinning my hand in place, rocks against me once more—fuck, the pressure is perfect.
“Curl your fingers in time with our movements,” Lex instructs.
I obey, bending my fingers as we rock together. Lex kisses me again, one arm braced above my head to hold herself up while her other hand massages my breast, tweaks my nipple, and then runs down to my hip. She fits her hand over my waist and digs her thumb into the crease of my hip, pulling me toward her as she grinds her thigh against me. She’s all around me, holding me and loving me and fucking me while making me fuck myself. The heat that’s building inside of me is slow, rumbling, like a volcano that’s overdue to erupt by a thousand years. It’s like I haven’t come in weeks, months, years, when I know that isn’t true. But this is different, so, so different, like she’s making love to parts of me that haven’t even been seen by another person.
Then, her lips find mine once more. She kisses me deeply, with intention and reverence, her tongue claiming my mouth. This is going to send me right over the fucking edge—but the edge is so much higher than anything I’ve ever experienced, and I’m almost scared about what will happen when I let myself take the plunge.
