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Now the hairs on her arms were standing on end, but Eden wasn’t stopping. She wasn’t sorry for craving a second of this pleasure.
Jos kept Eden spread open and she ate at her again. Not gently. She punished her with her tongue, lashed her clit with it until Eden was a mess again, soaked between her legs, frantic, hips bucking. Jos didn’t try to hold her still. She didn’t tackle her and pin her to the mattress. She didn’t let Eden take her pleasure either. She ate her noisily, so loudly that it made Eden’s cheeks flush scarlet, and Jos didn’t care. She wasn’t ashamed or embarrassed and it did something to Eden. Made her bold. Made her reckless. Made her want more and more and more.
When Eden was about to break, about to split her skin and wrench out of her body with need, Jos slid two fingers inside her without warning. She lashed at her clit, and she buried her fingers deep inside, and Eden screamed. She arched and bucked and was wild and messy and out of control. Her body was a life force of its own.
“Use my hand,” Jos commanded, moving her mouth away, but fucking Eden hard. “Use my fingers to come. I want you to work for it.”
“Fuck,” Eden hissed. She said it over and over. Chanted it. She worked her hips madly, grinding against Jos’ hand, against the fingers filling her up and stretching her wide. Jos scissored her fingers, then curled them until Eden was so full and sore and stretched that she was panting with that too. One more curl and something changed.
She normally hated that kind of stimulation. It was uncomfortable. It felt like getting something medical done to her body, an invasive exam. But this was different. She knew Jos was touching those spots, spots she hadn’t even touched herself, and it was uncomfortable at first, but after a few seconds, the sensations changed, and it wasn’t discomfort that Eden felt. It was fire. Hot, raging fire. Her body trembled, her muscles coming apart, tearing in half. She was tearing in half. Over and over again.
She was barrelling towards that orgasm, and Jos was driving her there, fucking her there with her mouth, then her fingers. Eden was fucking herself against those fingers, moaning and wild, her head thrown back, her hair everywhere, beads of sweat rolling down her forehead and beading between her breasts. She was moving her hips, searching, aching for the right angle, for more.
She imagined Jos behind her
, her face soaking wet, her lips glistening, and when Jos curled her fingers and thrust again, Eden was gone. She was so fucking gone.
Jos fucked her hard, hitting that spot every single time, until Eden burst.
The orgasm pummeled her to the ground. It was hard and violent and earth shattering and so, so wonderful. Eden didn’t just see bright lights bursting behind her eyes, she was the light.
She’d barely caught her breath when Jos spun her around and pinned her to the bed. She caged her in with her arms and kissed her hard. Eden was still shaking, still in the throes of her orgasm, and she responded messily, kissing, licking, biting, tasting herself all over Jos’ lips and tongue and chin and even down her neck. She kissed her until she couldn’t breathe, until she couldn’t get enough, until she wanted more all over again.
And that was, of course, when Jos pulled away.
Eden blinked up into the empty space where Jos had just been. She stood by the bed, watching Eden almost warily, a strange expression on her face that was quickly arranged back into a semblance of careful neutrals.
“Sleep,” Jos commanded.
Eden struggled to sit. Her body felt so heavy. Sleep. It was a wonderful suggestion. “You’re not going to sleep here too?”
“No. I’ll be in the guestroom.”
“But this is your bedroom.”
“Just go to sleep,” Jos commanded.
She left, taking all the air in the room with her. Eden’s eyes were so heavy that it was all she could to do pull a blanket over herself before she was fading. She didn’t have time to digest everything that had happened. Her body was liquid, warm, and the lingering whisky in her blood was pulling her under. The blankets smelled like Jos, she realized. Like Jos and like herself, and that was somehow comforting. Eden was warm and her body was liquid, and that was the last thought she had before surrendering to sleep.
Chapter 8
Jos
There were perfectly good reasons why Jos didn’t do this kind of thing. So, so many reasons.
She knew it was a mistake with every fiber of her being, but she couldn’t quite bring herself to regret it. She looked at Eden, her skin pale and flawless in the early morning sunlight, asleep in her bed. Her dark hair fanned around her on the pillow, a snag in one of the strands that Jos wanted to smooth out with her fingers. She didn’t let herself. She didn’t dare.
Touching this girl was like touching a flame.
Not a girl. A woman.
She’d made a conscious choice to be with Sandy. She had been tired of being alone. People got older. They got settled. They got married. They shared their lives with other people. They had families together. In all of it, she’d blundered so completely. There had been so much space for things to go wrong that she didn’t see coming.
She’d thought she could do it, give enough of herself to satisfy another person. To make them feel happy and complete. She’d been so wrong. She’d paid a heavy, public price for it. It wasn’t even the knowing that other people knew about her failure that bothered her the most. It was that she knew. She knew she’d failed so spectacularly. That failure was a thorn in her heart, burrowing into the spots where she normally felt nothing, and she hated it.
With Sandy, it had been years. Years of her life. Years of trying. With Sandy, it made sense that she should feel something. With Eden Rutherford, it made no sense at all, and that scared Jos. It scared her in a way that nothing else did. She didn’t feel fear. She didn’t allow it.
She had to wake her up. She had to get her to leave. She had to get her out of her bed, out of her house, out of her mind and her space and her blood.
