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Having fun?
Morgan didn’t do that, never had. When she became involved with a person, she wanted that metaphorical stamp of officialdom on her relationship with whomever it was she was seeing. It had been like that ever since she had first started dating, back in high school. She didn’t do casual; she didn’t do “open” relationships. The only exception, she supposed, was her arrangement with Clint. But she had always regarded time spent with Clint as little more than masturbation with a man.
Morgan didn’t want to just have fun with Chloë. The universe may have decided to play a cosmic joke on her by finally bringing into her life someone she actually wanted to spend time with and making that someone a woman but Morgan was rolling with it. She wanted more dates with Chloë; she wanted more waking up with Chloë and she sure as hell wanted more sex with Chloë. All of this meant she wanted them both to regard themselves as being together. But why did that also have to include Morgan determining how she now identified?
“Can I ask, please, why this is so important?” She felt like this evening, which had started off so grand, what with Chloë making her come hard up against the door, was spinning out of control.
Chloë looked off to side, evidently gathering her thoughts. Finally, she said, “If you’re bi, I can totally respect that, but I need to examine if I’m cool with that in a partner. And if you’re just exploring what it’s like to be with a woman, I can dig that too because it means we can just continue having fun. But that doesn’t make you girlfriend material. Not for me, anyway.”
Morgan nodded. She could understand Chloë’s point of view but, damn it, she wanted Chloë to understand hers as well.
Reaching over, she reclaimed Chloë’s hand, relieved that Chloë allowed her to. She took a breath and silently reminded herself to speak in her normal damn voice. Chloë was younger, yes
; she was also a former student, sure; but this conversation did not require the fucking teacher voice.
“I want to propose something radical,” she said.
Chloë asked her quizzically what it was.
“This has been a big deal for me, you and I,” Morgan began. “and I do need more time to sort it out. But…I want to keep seeing you, Chloë! I haven’t been this happy with another person in god knows how long. Can you just trust me, please, that this is what I want? But that I want it to be more than just us having fun? Even without me labeling myself at this present moment?”
Morgan stared at Chloë who was doing that thing Morgan now remembered Chloë doing back in high school whenever Chloë had been ruminating on something in class: looking down and off to the side while simultaneously biting her bottom lip.
“I need to think about that,” Chloë eventually said, which both worried and relieved Morgan.
At least she didn’t just run out of here!
“Okay,” Morgan said, nodding.
“It’s just that, you’re saying you want this to be more than us just having fun, which kind of implies that you’re expecting me to invest feelings into this.”
“But I’m willing to invest feelings too,” Morgan quickly pointed out.
“No, I get that,” Chloë said. “I’m just having a hard time wrapping my brain around this, okay? All my life—well, not all my life, only since I was sixteen, but you get what I mean—I’ve known how the women I’ve dated identified. They were gay. Plain and simple. I’m gay, the women I date are gay. Now you’re asking me to go with something unknown.”
Morgan nodded again.
“I understand,” she said, running her thumb over the top of Chloë’s hand. “Nothing has to be decided today.”
“Thank you,” Chloë replied.
Morgan then leaned in until her lips were ghosting Chloë’s ear.
“I don’t want to seem like I’m attempting to sway you,” she whispered, “but I’ve been thinking about tasting you all day.”
That was true. The memory of the tang of Chloë’s pussy had made it so hard to concentrate on her classes today that at lunchtime she’d had to make herself come just to feel centered once more.
Chloë groaned.
“You’re not playing fair, Miss Banks,” she sighed.
“No?” And Morgan then nibbled on Chloë’s earlobe, her nostrils filled with the scent of Sexy Secret mixed with the scent of just plain Chloë.
“No,” Chloë murmured, but one of her hands was now entangled in Morgan’s hair, holding Morgan’s face to her neck, while the other had found its way to Morgan’s left breast, rubbing her nipple to a hardened peak with her thumb over Morgan’s dress. “I really need to think about everything we talked about.”
“Think about it after,” Morgan whispered, actually salivating now at how soon she’d be tasting Chloë’s sex. “In the meantime, have mercy on me. After all, I’m in my sexual prime.”
Chapter 23
