“Jackie knows him, and she knows he’s her daddy,” she says just above a whisper. “You’re shaking. Do you still want to do this?”
I’ve never been this nervous before, but I’m glad I didn’t chicken out.
My answer comes as softly as her question. “Yes.”
She smiles again. “Is it okay if I kiss you?”
Now? She holds my gaze, taking control.
I nod, and she touches her left hand to the nape of my neck, drawing me closer. When our lips touch, the first thing I notice is how soft hers are. She’s patient, kissing me carefully. Her cheeks touch mine, soft and pliable, not at all like a guy’s rough, stubbly skin. This is so much better. Her tongue slips between my lips and strokes over mine with the same unhurried tenderness. Her fingers tighten around the back of my neck as she deepens the kiss, and I feel myself letting go, relaxing into the kiss, into the taste of her, into finally—God, finally—doing what feels natural.
When our lips part, I lean forward, trying to reconnect.
“Okay?” Like her tone, her eyes are soft and warm.
“Oh my God, yes.” Years of curiosity and repressed desire surge forward. I wrap my arms around her neck and run my fingers through her hair as our lips come together again.
Hungrier.
Harder.
And suddenly I’m not trembling anymore. I’m not thinking, barely breathing. Letting my body take over and do what feels good. What feels right. And it’s so much better than when I was lying beneath a guy with his hand pressing too hard, his cheeks scratching mine.
My hand plays over the gentle curve of her shoulder, and I have the urge to kiss it, taste her smooth skin. I draw back, and we’re both breathing heavily, but not panting roughly like guys do. It’s softer, hotter, sexier than anything I’ve ever experienced.
“It’s okay, Delilah. You can touch me.”
I can’t respond, I’m too focused on how good this feels. Being with her, finally being touched by a woman. I press my lips to her shoulder. Her skin is warm and soft. I open my lips and stroke her with my tongue. Her skin has a taste all its own. It’s tangy, not salty like Frank’s. I wonder what Ashley’s skin tastes like. Janessa’s fingers slide beneath my hair, and she cups the back of my head, holding me to her. My body vibrates with anticipation. Her touch is encouraging, not pressuring or hurried. I bring my mouth to the curve of her neck, the dip beneath her ear. She makes a mewing sound, and I know she likes it, so I do it again, feeling empowered, gaining confidence by the second. I trail kisses along her jaw and tease her lips with my own. She moans against my mouth, and God, I never knew a sound could turn me on so much.
I seal my lips over hers and bring my shaky hand to her breast, feeling her taut nipple against my palm, and I feel myself go damp. I’ve wondered what this would be like for so long that I’m still in a state of disbelief, a little detached, like I’m watching it happening. And I don’t want to stop. I want to see what else makes her breathing hitch, but it’s one thing to touch her above her clothing, above the waist, and a whole other thing to venture below.
As if she read my mind, she pulls back. Eyes steady on mine, she takes off her tank top and shakes her head. Her hair tumbles over her breasts. Any ability to restrain myself disappears with the sight of her tousled hair and bare breasts. Her nipples are pink and upturned, her breasts are full and so beautiful it’s impossible for me to look away. I lick my lips, wondering how she tastes, if she’ll mind if I use my mouth instead of my hands. She takes my hand and brings it to her breast again. I have a fleeting thought about how I’m not sure what to do, but my hand seems to know as it explores her body. She slides her hand beneath my dress and rubs my hip as I give in to my desires and bring my mouth to her breast. Her nipple is sweet and tightens as I tease her with my tongue, palming her other breast as she strokes me through my underwear.
Holy hell this feels good.
Wayyyy too good.
My body is on fire. There’s no way in hell this is wrong.
I push the thought away, unable to get enough of her and unwilling to go down a guilty path. I don’t know what I want more, to lean back and be touched or to take my fill. Our mouths crash together, and there’s no choice to be made. She leans in to me, and we paw, grope, taste with wild abandon. Her fingers push beneath my underwear and slide inside me. I moan into her mouth as my hips rock, begging for more. She moves in and out of me in the same urgent rhythm as our tongues mash together. She does something that feels so good that my head falls back, and I have to bite my lip to keep from crying out. She sucks on my neck as her talented fingers work their magic, and in seconds I feel pressure mounting inside me. My insides are reaching for her. My legs tingle and my hips fly off the couch as my eyes slam shut. Lights explode behind my closed lids, and she keeps probing, stroking, keeps openmouthed kissing my neck, as my body bucks and my inner muscles squeeze her fingers over and over again. Her fingers remain inside me until the last pulse of my climax shudders through me, and as I open my eyes, she kisses me softly.