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When Libby pressed her lips to the soft stubble, Reagan immediately reacted by jerking her pelvis up. The realization that she wanted her to taste her as much as Libby wanted it produced a hard pull of desire deep in her body.
Unsure of where to start, Libby took a long swipe with her tongue, like keeping an ice cream cone from dripping on her on a hot summer day. It was an apt comparison based on Reagan’s arousal.
Reagan’s hips jerked up again in response, causing Libby to grip her tighter to keep her in place.
“Stay still or I’ll stop,” Libby warned before continuing her exploration.
“I can’t help it,” Reagan warned, her breath ragged and her chest flushed.
Libby suppressed a satisfied grin. That had to be a good sign, right? “Try harder,” she demanded sternly.
When Reagan broke loose from her again, Libby sat back on her knees and crossed her arms over her chest.
“Are you really stopping?” Reagan screeched. “Come on, I can’t help it.”
“You have to learn I don’t make empty threats,” she said without an ounce of playfulness in her tone.
Reagan’s lip twitched, instantly picking up that they were playing a game. “What’s my punishment then?”
“Turn over,” Libby demanded, shocked at her ability to play at being dominant. For a moment she considered that she wasn’t playing, that she’d always wanted to tell a partner what to do but never felt comfortable enough to try.
It had been easier, if not unsatisfying, to be a passive participant.
Doing what she was told, Reagan flipped onto her stomach. Sitting on her lower back so she could feel just how turned on she was, Libby leaned forward and bit her shoulder.
Reagan groaned and squirmed, but Libby didn’t stop until she’d left another respectable red badge on her back. It really was animalistic, but Libby couldn’t find the will to care. It felt so good to claim her.
With her palms splayed on Reagan’s muscular back, Libby swung her hips slowly. She started grinding against her just as a tease, but as her desire grew, the contact inched closer to actually satisfying. It felt so good she had to stop or the game would be over.
Slipping o her back, Libby stared at the humid spot she’d left on her tailbone. She had a wicked urge, but what if she weirded Reagan out rather than turned her on?
Only one way to find out, she decided before leaning forward and running her tongue along her tailbone. She barely tasted anything but Reagan’s skin, but it had the desired e ect. Reagan cursed and groaned.
Drunk with erotic power, Libby grabbed Reagan’s hips and lifted them until she was on all fours. From behind,
Libby continued to rocket out of her comfort zone and plunged inside her. In the new configuration, it didn’t matter if Reagan squirmed. It only appeared to help.
In minutes, Reagan was tightening around her fingers as she moaned and panted. When she fell forward onto the bed, Libby followed, feeling as satisfied as if she’d had an orgasm herself.
“What was that for?” Reagan asked as she pulled the covers over their entangled bodies.
“Because I love you,” she replied nestling into her chest and loving the light perspiration coating her cheek. “And now I want to take a nap.”
Reagan chuckled, her voice still hoarse from sleep. “But we just woke up.”
“Mm hmm, and now I’m sleepy again. When I wake up, I’d like to do that again, thank you,” she said, her relaxed body growing heavy.
“Is that your plan for today? A sleep-sex cycle?”
“No,” she said, drifting away. “I’m probably going to want to eat something other than you next time.”
When she fell asleep again, Reagan was holding her close and running her fingers through her hair.
“YOU SAID YOU WERE GOING TO TURN IT ON AFTER DINNER,” REAGAN
said, her eyes on the phone sitting between them in the bed.
Since sunset, they’d already showered, eaten leftover hors d’oeuvres, and had se
