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That was all the banter I could manage, because she was pulling down the neckline of my top. My left breast came free of my bra, and her mouth found my nipple. A cry tore through my lips as something deep in my core exploded. I threw my head back, my eyes wrenching shut. Tara did something with her tongue, and my body seized up. I needed her so badly right now.
How had I ever thought I wouldn’t want to be with a girl? She was turning me on more than any guy ever had. Nothing in my life had ever been so thrilling. Compared to this, being with men was like watching paint dry. I could never go back—but I shelved that thought for later.
She worked me back onto the counter, tugging my pants down to my knees. I spread my legs as far as they’d go, wanting to give her total access. As she claimed my lips again, her hand found my center. My body jerked, and I moaned into her mouth.
“Oh my God, Tara. Oh myGod.”
Her hand worked on my most sensitive spot, but this was so much more than just fingering. My body bucked and seized, and I clung to her tightly as our lips melded together. Every nerve in my body was on fire, and I couldn’t put the flames out. Nor did I want to. I was going to burn forever, burning only for her.
She turned her attention to my neck again, and my legs shook as the pressure built inside of me. There was a whole bookstore out there, I had to keep my voice down—but that didn’t stop my cries from rising higher and higher.
Her fingers slid into me, gliding inside without the slightest friction. “Oh my fuckingGod.” My walls spasmed around her, and I saw a white light.
And for that moment, I felt like I’d ascended straight up into heaven.
15
Tara
For our first official date, we had chosen a casual yet upscale French place that was supposed to have the best bread in town. My nerves clattered as we walked in. I’d never come to a place like this before, and treating her to dinner was going to take a significant chunk of my paycheck. Half of me thought the waitstaff would throw me out on sight for not being classy enough.
And then there was the question of what I was doing with Chelsea. She wasn’t straight—that much was for sure after the way I’d made her come in the bookstore bathroom. I smirked to myself as I remembered how it had felt to have her buck and moan under my fingers. Pretty good for a first-timer.
Still, I didn’t know what she was looking for. Was she still experimenting, or did she see this as a potential relationship? If she was only curious, surely her curiosity would’ve been satisfied by now. I still wondered if I’d moved too fast. I’d been caught up, and it had felt so right in that moment.
A waiter in a crisp white shirt and black suit led us to a table lit by soft candlelight. My heart pattered as I watched the light glow on Chelsea’s delicate features.
She watched quietly as the waiter filled our water glasses. As soon as he was gone, she leaned both elbows on the table. “I wonder how much they pay him to put up with that penguin suit,” she murmured.
I chuckled, and the stiffness inside me started to relax. This was something, not nothing. It was more than an experiment, or she wouldn't have been here. It still felt too good to be true, but the more I worried that this wasn't real, the less I would enjoy it while it actually lasted.
The waiter dropped off bread rolls, which Chelsea dug into with abandon. “They’re so crisp on the outside, they’re flaking off in my mouth, but then they’re totally soft on the inside.” She dribbled what looked like olive oil on a slice, and her eyes rolled back in her head. “Aren’t you going to try some?”
“I’m not too crazy about plain bread.”
“Are you serious? This isn’tbread.This is heaven.”
I eyed the rolls. They looked like any of the buns I sometimes bought in bags of a dozen at the grocery store. “I’ll take a pass.”
“No, you have to try this.” She tore one apart. “Look at that steam coming off it. It’s fresh out of the oven.”
“Or the microwave.” My nose wrinkled as she dripped oil onto it. “How would a bunch of grease help? And what’s the black stuff in it?”
“Oh, you sweet summer child. This is an olive oil and balsamic vinegar dip.” She handed me the roll.
The oil dripped onto my hand, putting me off even more. “Do I have to do this?”
“Yes.” She sat back and crossed her arms.
I shrugged. People had done crazier things for the sake of a pretty girl. I bit down—and immediately let out a groan. The bread was as crispy, flaky, and soft as Chelsea had described it. The inside melted into a warm pillow in my mouth, while the outside formed into delicious crumbles on my tongue. And that was all before the oil-and-vinegar taste kicked in.
“You were right.” I stuffed the rest of the roll into my mouth and licked my fingers. “More, please.”
She drew the breadbasket away coquettishly. “Don’t want to ruin your appetite.”
After I talked her into giving me a second roll, the waiter came to take our orders. She stuck to ginger ale instead of wine, which my wallet thanked her for. I let her order for me. “I want to see what other secrets you have up your sleeve,” I told her.
“Nothing exciting.”
