Heat- part of my first:girl series is up today at wordpress. I suggest you take the time to read the juicy story today or nab the password from me like it's going under restriction, because, um, it is.
Happy Reading! It's delicious.
She had a beer in her hand and her grin was a little too open. She
smelled like smoke and I leaned my head against her leg to breathe it
in. She must have been out on the patio, smoking and talking. Her
fingers tangled in my long hair as she fingered the strands.
My buzz kicked in double time. She was more intoxicating than any
alcohol in the world. She could make me forget my manners, my
inhibitions, my own name. I let my fingers idly create patterns across
her jeans. She was still wearing her jacket, I noticed. A heavy corduroy
button up, far too hot for the sweltering room. I sat up to ask her about
it and wavered. Maybe I’d had more to drink than I thought.
Her fingers left my hair and I tried not to pout. “Gwen,” I started,
intending to ask about the jacket, but she looked at me. She looked me
right in the eyes and I was pulled back to our moment under the stars.
Her face was flushed, her eyes were shining, and there was some deep
longing in the lines of her face, in the pigments of her freckles, that
begged me to ask her. I couldn’t hear the noise of the party anymore.
Couldn’t hear the talking or the glass bottles, could only hear her
breathing and the rush of blood through my ears, like the waves of the
“Kiss me,” I breathed, and she swallowed tightly but didn’t look away. She let out a slow breath and tried to grin.
“You sure you want that?” She swirled her beer bottle. I moved even
closer to her, her leg cradling my breast, her side pressed against my
front, my shoulder. She had several inches on me this way, but I didn’t
care. I wanted to reach out and touch her but my training with horses
had me scared I’d spook her.
“I’m sure,” I nodded, our mouths only an inch apart. I was drowning
in her gaze. She looked lost, bewildered, wanting, waiting, calculating-
so many things. I rested my hand on her thigh and she finally brought
her hand up to wrap around my throat, her thumb lifting my chin, and she
There was something bubbling in my chest, a feeling that was so much
like becoming whole. She fit exactly into all these locks and voids and
jagged pieces inside me that I hadn’t realized were damaged and missing.
My hand fisted onto the hem of her jacket and I pushed closer to her.
Her lips were soft and pliant against mine, sweet and gentle under
the taste of beer and clove cigarettes. Her body was on fire everywhere
that it touched mine, and I was burning against her. The brush of her
denim jeans was rough through my shirt and I gripped her jacket tighter.
Someone called, laughed, there was a whistle, and Gwen pulled away. I
saw the reflections of people staring at us in the mirror, people who
had wanted to know what our relationship was but had never gotten a
clear answer. People who’d heard me stumble when asked if I was a
lesbian and preferred to think of me as straight, or more of a “don’t
ask don’t tell” policy. I didn’t care about them now. I didn’t care
about anything but her. I leaned into her again but she pulled back,
“A little eager, are we?” she laughed, and glanced at our audience.
They had the decency to look away and try to make small talk amongst
themselves now that we’d acknowledged them. She always did this, always
tried to make light while she put up her guards. I didn’t want that. I
wanted to feel her lips against mine. I wasn’t asking her to consent to a
XXX floor show, it was just a kiss.
I ran my fingers through her short hair and stroked the shell of her
ear. “Please,” I begged. “Please don’t do this now. Just kiss me again.
That’s all I want. Nothing more.”