Page 32 of Summer

My hand is between us, covered in the wet slick of her arousal. I’ve never done anything like this before, never touched another female the way I longed so desperately to be touched. Now I’m frozen, the proof of what I’ve done covering my hand. My pussy throbs with want, but I don’t know what to do.

Summer turns to face me, and I want to stop her. I can’t look at her, not after what I’ve done. She wanted it, didn’t she? She told me to keep going, she said yes, the look in her eyes…

What if it was to appease me? What if this is a big joke, a way to pay me back for my cruelty? Is this where she laughs in my face? Pulls out her comm to take a photo of me?

She watches me carefully, her chest heaving as she catches her breath. A long moment passes between us before she snags my wrist and brings my soaked hand to her mouth. Her lips close over my fingers, sucking herself off me. Her tongue darts over my fingers, capturing her arousal, licking me clean. All the while, she never breaks eye contact, her heated gaze burning into me.

She gives my fingers a final lick before straightening, waiting. Is this my cue to move? I don’t know how this is supposed to work, I don’t know anything about this dance, I don’t know the steps.

Summer steps forward and raises a hand to my face, resting on my cheek. Then she tilts her head and presses her lips to mine.

A kiss.

I’ve kissed twice before, each time as a child. The first was a young boy from another noble family. During a ball, we snuck away from the other children into the garden. The kiss was sloppy and quick, more about curiosity than anything else. I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand as my stomach roiled.

The second was just before my debut. Poliope, Wrunga, Rikkie and I sat in the shade of the trees, gossiping about the coming debut. We’d be presented to the queen, then paraded around for the entire season. My hopes were still high then that I might be chosen, that I might find a male to marry. Aaoric was away at Frihus, absent from my first season.

“What do married couples even do?” Wrunga lamented.

“They kiss,” Rikkie said matter-of-fact. She had two elder sisters that taught her everything, including about bedroom activities. Rikkie never shared that knowledge with us, claiming it too “severe for our gentle ears”. I wanted to argue that we would undergo it soon enough – no need to hide it from us – but Rikkie did not move from a topic unless she wanted to.

“Kiss?” Wrunga balked.

“Yes – and much more, but kissing is a big part of it,” Rikkie continued.

“What if I am a rotten kisser?” Wrunga asked.

“Then you’ll never find a match,” Rikkie said with a shrug, before rising to wander off with Poliope. Wrunga remained seated with me, her fingers twirling in agitation.

“Come off it. Rikkie is being cruel,” I told her. Wrunga turned her wide, watery eyes to me. She looked so sad, so lost at the thought of trying to kiss a male and being found wanting.

“How do you know she’s not telling the truth?” she asked.

“I don’t,” I admitted. I meant to sound more assured, but even I was hesitant. “But it’s not that hard. I’ve done it before.”

“You have?” Wrunga asked, sitting up straight.

“Yes – once. When I was younger. It’s not that hard, you just…” I trailed off, unsure how to explain that first kiss.

“What if…” Wrunga started, then stopped. Her cheeks flushed in embarrassment.

“What?” I pressed.

“What if…we practiced? You’ve done it before, you’re experienced. You can teach me!” Wrunga sat up straight, so convinced this was the best idea.

It made sense, far more sense than just waiting to see what happened. We found a quiet place, and she waited for my instruction, but I had none. Instead, I leaned forward and pressed my lips to hers.

Nothing could have prepared me for the striking difference between the two kisses. It was no sloppy kiss shared under the tables at a ball. It sent a jolt down my spine, lit up my insides in a way I’d never felt before. As Wrunga’s mouth moved against mine, I fought to keep my hands to myself. They wanted to crawl through her hair, to move along her body, to feel every inch of her.

When she pulled away, I expected to see my own thoughts reflected there – want, arousal, need. Instead, she frowned and shook her head.

“You’re right – it’s rather easy.”

This kiss – this kiss with Summer – is nothing like either of those.

She pulls me into her, one hand on my cheek, the other on my waist. Her kiss is soft at first, a gentle pressure against my lips, warming me up to her presence. Then it is consuming, her lips pressed against mine, her tongue flicking across my lips. I open my mouth, unsure of what to do, when her tongue slides across my teeth.

I let her lead, let her pull me in deeper to that kiss. I let my hands roam her body, along her exposed shoulders, the arch of her neck that I’d dug my teeth into just moments ago, her hair, her everything.