Page 98 of Quiver

Kylie wasted no time climbing atop her, hooking one leg over the toned torso and straddling Fletcher’s hips. Her knees pressed into the bed, and she lowered her bare center to the ridges of those strong abs, the whole time watching the dark depths of Fletcher’s eyes swirl with attraction burgeoning into lust.

She rocked back and forth lightly, painting Fletcher’s stomach with the evidence of her need before groaning, “I want to feel you move inside me.”

Fletcher obliged eagerly and slipped one hand between them at the point where their bodies met. Kylie held her breath as one finger slipped inside, then another before she had time to adjust fully. She threw her head back as all the air left her lungs, then settled even lower, relishing the stretch of every stabilizer muscle she’d developed over the last four weeks as she rode Fletcher with utter abandon.

Fully exposed physically and open emotionally, she set the pace and depth, but Fletcher’s eyes pulled her on, drew her up, and eased her back. Kylie had always loved watching Fletcher watch her. The emotions played clearly across her face, like a film on a screen, the awe and attraction raw and unrivaled. Lord, how she’d missed being seen by this woman without all the barriers and barbed wire they’d tried to erect between them. Or maybe they were still there. She wasn’t naïve enough to believe they’d dug up every land mine, but perhaps that’s what made this moment even more powerful. Right here and now they were willing to risk being ripped open to be together like this again.

The orgasm built in her slowly but steadily, like a rising tide, the kind that curls toes and coils muscles. She didn’t want anything about this to end, and yet she also craved the crash of sweet surrender. Still, Fletcher stroked, in and out, cradling Kylie’s need literally in the palm of her hand, relentlessly constant. She remained strong and sturdy and so damn sexy. No matter what changed between them, then or now, nothing could alter any of those core facts. No one had ever done anything for Kylie the way Fletcher could with her skilled hands and consuming concentration.

Fletcher curled her fingers forward, the way she might to pull a bowstring, and in doing so, she pulled the same snap of tension through Kylie’s body. She’d held on as long as she could, and now she pitched forward as the first waves of orgasm surged through her. She barely had time to feel herself falling before Fletcher caught her. Folding Kylie tightly in her free arm, she continued to move inside her with the other hand. She rode every wave, rolling and rocking against the beautiful body beneath her, forehead and mouth pressed to Fletcher’s skin, each ragged breath carrying the scent and taste of her until the sensory surplus overloaded her brain the same way it had her body.

Fletcher wrapped Kylie into the crook of her arm and rolled her over onto her back without ever pulling out of her. She lay completely still and full for a moment, trying to catch her breath until Fletcher’s mouth found hers again. The kiss started slow and featherlight, a mere brush of lips, but as Kylie responded, Fletcher raised the stakes. Her tongue played, teasing little licks that flickered like a flame stirring on the tip of a match.

Kylie lay wrapped in Fletcher’s arm, unable to move, and yet something in her came to life again, called forth by the will of this woman so stubborn and unable to fail. Spreading her legs without even meaning to, she gave the cue Fletcher needed to tug those unseen strings between them. Pushing in and pulling out, hot breath shared around the edges of their kiss, fire spread once more. And then they were going again the same way they always had, only better, unrushed, languid, and lost in each other. Never breaking the kiss, they rose and fell to the rhythm Fletcher set, and Kylie for once felt only the inclination to follow.

The second orgasm rolled like thunder between them as she clutched Fletcher as close as possible, shivering hot and sloppy and sexy. Kylie relished the way all those muscles absorbed the shock and impact of the passion she’d silently worked back into a full-fledged climax.

This time when she sank, spent, into the mattress, she turned her face away from the kiss Fletcher seemed all too content to continue.

“Trying to kill me?” she mumbled, shaking her head.

“What?”

“Is this your new plan?” She sighed. “Couldn’t beat me, so you might as well orgasm me to death?”

Fletcher smiled against her skin and ran her thumb lightly over Kylie’s clit. “There are worse ways to go.”

Kylie scooted away from the hypersensitive contact, closing her eyes as Fletcher slipped out of her. “I will concede that point.”

“There’s a first.” Fletcher’s voice sounded low and satisfied, causing something new to twist at Kylie’s core. Rolling back toward her in a tangle of sheets, she leaned close enough to lick a lazy circle around Fletcher’s nipple, watching as it hardened for her. Then she kept her eyes open and focused on Fletcher’s as she closed her mouth around that perfect point and sucked.

Fletcher rolled back onto the bed as her lips parted silently. She loved her little tells, she loved her restraint, and she loved to break it. Maybe that’s all she’d been trying to do with their sparring, to find some semblance of surrender when this was what she’d craved all along.

With Fletcher fully prone, Kylie rolled on top of her, licking and kissing skin she’d never forgotten the taste of. She drew meandering patterns with her tongue and placed a wet kiss in the valley between her firm breasts. Melding their bodies together, long and slick, she slipped her knee between Fletcher’s legs and slowly worked up until it pressed against the center of her need.

Fletcher’s head tossed on the pillow in a splay of contrasts, coal-black curls stark against the white sheets, lush, dark lashes against her smooth skin, the softness of her breasts below the straining splendor of rippling shoulders. All her strength bent with the arc of her exposed neck, begging Kylie to close her mouth against the pulse point throbbing there. How could she possibly do anything else, and yet when she claimed the spot as her own once again, she chose to suck instead of bite.

The results of tender sensuality in place of riotous rage spilled along Kylie’s thigh in the form of liquid arousal. She thrilled at the press of Fletcher’s desire pulsing hard and wet against her. Sliding up to tug an earlobe with her teeth, she found enough of her voice to whisper, “If we’re toying with different ways to go, I’d rather drown than combust.”

Confusion crossed Fletcher’s heavy-lidded eyes, but Kylie smiled down at her only for a second before sliding lower. Blazing a hot trail south, she resisted the urge to kiss the scars again. She’d already wished away violet bruises and crimson rivers. Today was about soothing wounds they couldn’t see. She settled her shoulders between the flexing muscles Fletcher spread without any further urging. She stayed there, relishing the view and the heat radiating off her, but when Fletcher’s magnificent glutes tightened, lifting her upward, asking without words, Kylie answered in kind. Closing her mouth around her clit, she didn’t waste any time with teasing.

They were breaking patterns, not becoming someone else altogether. And if there was one thing she didn’t want to unlearn, it was how to please the body before her now.

Fletcher began to writhe under the roll of Kylie’s tongue, but they were too far gone to back up now. No, the only path forward was together, so she curled her arms under Fletcher’s thighs, holding her tightly to her mouth, loving the way her muscles rippled beneath her fingers.

Not everything between them had changed or lost its edge. Fletcher still saturated her senses, and she pressed forward, always forward, eager even for suffocation if it would allow her any closer. She wanted to worship her, an all-consuming idolatry or an addiction she had no desire to kick.

Fingers sifted through Kylie’s long hair, gently at first, as if seeking any kind of contact to satisfy her need, but they both knew better. It didn’t take long for Fletcher’s control to slip. Her breath grew jagged, her movements erratic, and still Kylie worked for more, stroking, urging, pulling with her lips and the subtle drag of her teeth. Soon Fletcher’s light touch settled against the back of her head, then grew into more persistent pressure until she ground up into her mouth.

Then seeming to catch herself, Fletcher pulled away and clutched for the bed, twisting the sheets in her fists instead. Kylie felt nearly bereft at the withdrawal. She wanted this woman wild and clutching and crushing them together. Without missing a beat, she caught hold of Fletcher’s hand and pulled it back, for the first time realizing this new blend between them, the old and the new, could be wielded and carved with intentionality. They weren’t just breaking patterns. They could build them, taking the best of who they’d always been and making it better than either of them had ever allowed.

As if to emphasize that point, Fletcher came in a rush of arousal and a shout of release, a single word she’d likely been holding back for longer than either of them understood.

“Kye,” she gasped, rich and deep and powerful, like a spell, an incantation to call forth every emotion they’d withheld from each other and from themselves.

Kylie rode the wave as it rushed over them both in trembling legs and gripping fingers and gasps for air. She didn’t know how long it lasted. She only knew something about it felt more right than anything she’d experienced in longer than she would’ve let herself admit even a few hours ago. Tears streamed down her face, hot and unrestrained, as she refused to let this end until Fletcher caught hold of her shoulders and pulled her up.

They collapsed, a heavy pile of limbs and exposed skin, holding tightly to each other as their breathing and heart rates slowed.