No Strings Attached(36)
When she came to, Robin’s pussy was no longer offered to Micky the way it had been before. Instead, Robin had swiftly pirouetted back to face Micky and now sat straddling Micky’s belly.
“What the hell are you doing to me?” Micky stammered, not even having the wherewithal to feel self-conscious about asking such a silly question. Because it was clear what Robin was doing to her. She was making great strides in the conquest of Micky’s body—and heart.
Robin didn’t reply. Just smiled down at Micky, scooted closer—Micky could feel the wetness of her pussy leaving a trail on her belly, then her breasts—until her pussy was wholly on offer once again.
I’m covered in woman. She dug her nails into Robin’s backside and pulled her as close as she possibly could without losing the ability to breathe. She delved her tongue into Robin’s pussy and continued where she’d left off before the orgasm had swept through her. When she opened her eyes for an instant, she had a clear view of Robin’s perky breasts and, beyond them, of her exposed neck while she threw her head back in, what Micky hoped, was burgeoning ecstasy.
Micky gave it all she had. She alternated applying pressure with her tongue and bestowing the lightest of flicks on Robin’s clit and, meanwhile, relished how Robin’s body squirmed on top of hers. Micky was basically trapped between Robin’s thighs and, though she’d never envisioned an exact scenario like this one, took great delight in it. Then she remembered the effect the addition of a finger to the action had had on her earlier. She wiggled an arm underneath Robin’s thigh, pulled her mouth back from that intoxicating pussy for an instant, and plunged a finger inside Robin’s hot, moist depths.
“Oh God,” Robin exclaimed. “Oh yes.”
A brand new source of fire ignited under Micky’s skin. The receiving and the giving, the endless cycle of it made her curl her toes in anticipation as well. They had all night to repeat this, over and over again. And tomorrow was Sunday.
As Robin’s thighs clamped themselves around Micky’s head almost savagely, a rush of happiness burrowed itself through her flesh. All it took was for Micky to be wholly covered in woman to experience this kind of freeing satisfaction.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
After Robin had so brazenly come to sit on Micky’s face, changing Micky’s perception of herself a little more once again, they took a shower and went out to dinner. Micky didn’t remember much of dinner because her brain was so filled to the brim with all things Robin—her fingers, her wet sex, her wicked grin—that it seemed as though there was no room left in her short-term memory to store new impressions.
After dinner, there was a moment where, in hindsight, the perfect day they had spent together could have gone awry, when Micky saw a flicker of hesitation creep along Robin’s features when she asked if she was coming back home with her to spend the night.
In the end, after a brief moment of having to think about it, Robin said, “Why the hell not?” and they walked to Micky’s house together. The only reason Micky didn’t grab Robin’s hand on the short walk was not because she didn’t want to be seen holding another woman’s hand in her new neighborhood, but because she didn’t know if holding hands in public was within the boundaries of their friends-with-benefits arrangement.
They had tried to watch the news on TV, but Robin’s proximity, and the fact that they had the house all to themselves, made Micky unable to focus. She couldn’t keep her hands off Robin, was always touching at least one fingertip to her skin.
“Do you want to talk?” Robin asked at one point, but Micky just shook her head.
She’d never been the kind of girl to indulge in drugs, even a joint had always been too much for her non-smoker lungs, but she imagined this was what it felt like to lose control of her faculties. To have dopamine rush after dopamine rush cloud the working of the brain and reduce a person to a recurrent pleasure-seeker. But just for tonight, Micky didn’t care. Her brain might be fogged over with lust and dreaminess and foreign-to-her chemical processes, somewhere in the back of it, the realization did sit that she would be worrying about all of this later. About the consequences of this day on her life. That’s why, on this Saturday evening, and well into the night, until the moment Robin would kiss her good-bye, Micky would allow herself all the indulgence she had denied herself for years.
Micky kneeled between Robin’s legs downstairs in the living room sofa. Afterward, Robin pushed her against her bedroom door when they went up to sleep. Micky was so exhausted, her body too drained to leave any energy for her mind to worry, that she slept so deeply and late that the sun was already streaming through the windows when she woke up.