She kissed Robin’s outer lips, slowly moving inward, and trailing her tongue along her inner lips. Robin’s musky, earthy scent threw her a bit at first, until it became intoxicating and Micky started to lose track of what she was doing exactly. It was as though her tongue had taken over from her brain, and she licked and sucked, and to her great relief, Robin was squirming underneath her.
When Micky paused to catch her breath, Robin grabbed her hand and found her gaze. “Fuck me,” she said. Two short words with a grand effect on Micky. A fresh wave of arousal shot through Micky, while she brought her hand to Robin’s pussy. Licking Robin had been one thing—a glorious, exquisite thing—but to be inside her would be reaching another level of divine bliss.
Micky watched as one of her fingers disappeared inside of Robin, marveled at the wonder of it. Robin reacted instantly, groaning a little louder and, in between, murmuring, “More, more.”
So Micky gave her more. She fucked Robin with three fingers and watched, in wonder, the effect her very fingers were having on her.
“Lick me,” Robin urged.
Micky quickly complied, grateful for Robin’s instructions. She stroked deep inside of Robin while she let her tongue dart around her clit. It was one of the most amazing experiences of Micky’s life. To do that to another woman. To have another woman spasming with pleasure at the touch of her fingers and tongue. Micky was ready to quit her job at The Pink Bean tomorrow, if only she could repeat this a few more times.
“Oh, Micky,” Robin moaned. “Oh, yes.” Robin’s inner walls clamped around Micky’s fingers, sucking them deep inside of her.
Micky was so overwhelmed and aroused by everything that was happening that she felt she was right there with Robin, riding the height of her climax. Because it was her, Micky Ferro, having this effect on another woman, making her come at her fingertips. Micky knew there and then that this very act was the most powerful aphrodisiac she would ever encounter.
Instinctively, she knew when to withdraw, and let her fingers slide out of Robin. They were a wet and sticky mess, and Micky had no idea what to do with them.
But Robin urged her to come up. “Come here,” she said. Micky had no choice but to plant her wet hand on Robin’s sheets, probably leaving a nice memento.
“Not bad for a beginner,” Robin said and kissed her on the cheek.
Micky didn’t know what to say to that. She had many answers at the ready—“Just following your expert example.” “We’ll have to do that again some time very soon.” “I’m so so wet again.”—but she didn’t utter any of them, because she questioned their appropriateness. She was also riding a wave of extreme satisfaction at what had just taken place.
No one could ever take away her first time with a woman. She also knew it wouldn’t be her last.
Robin pulled Micky into a hug and whispered, “Trust me, I could do this all night long, but it’s late, and we have work in the morning.”
“Hm,” Micky groaned, wondering if it was all right for her to stay, but too lazy to ask. If Robin was the kind of person who wanted her to leave after what they’d just done, she would have to tell her very clearly. Micky just sank into her embrace, and then she knew she was welcome to stay. “And you have to do CrossFit,” she said, just to make conversation and keep her mind off the ungodly hour she would have to ask Robin to set the alarm.
“It’s past midnight, I’ve done my exercise for the day,” Robin said, a smile in her voice.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Micky woke with a start. What time was it? Where the hell was she? Then she heard rhythmic breathing beside her and, in a flash, remembered everything that had happened. She searched for an alarm clock and found one on Robin’s side of the bed. It was five fifteen. She would have to get up soon. Argh. Could she call in sick during her second week? Even though Micky had never held a proper job in her life, she did possess a certain work ethic.
She let herself fall back onto the mattress for five more minutes. But she had to go by her house and grab some clean clothes before going to The Pink Bean—and had working there not already served its purpose? Micky couldn’t wait to tell Amber about this, but chances were that, by the time Amber came to the coffeehouse for her daily green tea, Micky would be snoozing in the storeroom.
“Morning,” Robin said, her voice croaky. “Do you have to get up already?” She threw an arm over Micky’s middle, trapping her in the bed.
“I have to be there at six thirty and go by my house first.” Should Micky have prepared for this scenario and put a spare pair of underwear in her bag? This made her wonder if Robin was the kind of person who went through life with a clean pair of panties tucked away in her purse. There was so much Micky didn’t know about Robin, and would probably never find out.