“Sweetheart,” Sadie breathed, and she shifted, moving down Anne’s body. Almost before Anne realized what was happening,Sadie dipped her head, pulled down the bra cup, and began to mouth the swell of Anne’s breast.
Oh. Anne let out a little sob. In front of her was the crown of Sadie’s head, that honey-brown sweep of hair spilling over Anne’s chest. Anne could feel it—the brush of those unbound strands against her skin—and for some reason, that sensation above all others deepened Anne’s ache into agony.
And still,still, she hadn’t touched Sadie, not the way she wanted to, not with her hands on Sadie’s skin, all because Sadie was still fully clothed—
“Sadie, please. I need to—need to touch—”
Sadie’s lips closed around Anne’s nipple. Sucked. Hot, wet pressure. Tight.
“OhJesusohmyGod.” Anne arched up, pushing her breast into Sadie’s mouth. Arousal drummed between her thighs, heavier and more insistent by the minute. “Ah—ah—”
A whimper from Sadie, electric against Anne’s wet breast.
“Sadie—have to touch you, please—” Anne was beginning to babble. “Want it. I n-need, oh—”
Sadie gasped, pulling back. “You need to do that?” she panted. “Then you’ll have it.”
She rose to her knees and moved forward again until she was straddling either side of Anne’s chest. If the position made her thighs burn, no strain showed through the haze of desire on her face. More quickly than Anne could’ve thought possible, Sadie undid the first six buttons of her dress, and through the growing gap, her large breasts emerged, perfectly held by her blush-pink bra. Then the soft, sweet curve of her stomach.
Throbbing, Anne didn’t hesitate. Couldn’t. She reached up and slid her hands inside Sadie’s dress. Her venturing hands found warm, rippled skin. Plush velvet.
At the contact, Sadie jerked as though she’d been shocked. Then, with a low cry, she arched forward into Anne’s caress.
The room swam.
Anne had never known that there was such a clear and obvious answer to the question she’d never been able to ask herself. She could have a woman under her hands and discover—with no effort at all—that deep, primal urge she’d read about, heard about. She could do and be done to and be part of a rhythm that was blessedly, beautifully ancient.
This span of Sadie’s waist was only a small part of her. There was so much more to discover that Anne couldn’t reach from this angle. Above were Sadie’s breasts, a siren call; her collarbone; her sloping shoulders. Below were Sadie’s full thighs, her lush hips, and between those was, was—
She trembled. What if Sadie asked her for more? Would Anne be able to touch her aboveandbelow, too? And, oh dear God, maybe between, where a hot and swelling place waited that might be like Anne’s own, pleading for more. What could Anne make Sadie do if she used a finger or the flat of her palm? Would she get Sadie to shake and clench and burst—
“Oh no, I’m too close,” Anne choked out. Hearing herself admit it made the cliff instantly higher, nearer. “I’m too close, honey—I need to—I’m so sorry, it’s toomuch, I—”
With a strangled sound, Sadie climbed off her just as Anne yanked down her joggers and her underwear. She brought the first two fingers of her right hand to her mouth and sucked them, getting them slick.
It took seconds. It took a lifetime. Now bare to her thighs, Anne found her stiff clit and whimpered at the contact. Not long—she wouldn’t need long after the day’s slow tease. After hours, or years, of wanting Sadie. After the decades she’d spent pushing her need back, down, away. The unstoppable tide was rolling in.
Then Sadie’s hand gently cupped hers, resting on top of it as Anne frantically rubbed.
Anne cried out, too far gone for speech.
“You’re all right,” Sadie whispered next to her. “That’s it. You’re almost there, sweetheart. All you have to do is let it happen. Yes. Just like that. You’re doing so well. You are, you are, oh my brilliant, beautiful girl, you’reperfect—”
With a sob of relief, Anne came, her body contracting to a single point of dense and unbearable joy. The orgasm pulsed through her in a long series of convulsions, one after another, strong enough to gray out the edges of her vision and disappear the world.
The echoes lasted until Anne wasn’t sure how she could keep on surviving—and then, finally, they faded. Still breathing hard in the aftermath, she felt utterly limp, poured out. Her hand stayed between her legs, not ready to let go.
A soft kiss pressed against the side of her mouth.
Anne opened her eyes to see Sadie smiling at her.
“That looked wonderful,” she said, her voice hoarse with emotion. “I’m so happy for you.”
Belatedly, Anne realized she was crying. Not much, just a little, but moisture spilled when she blinked, uncontained, like every other part of her seemed to be.
She sat up slowly, one palm braced against the bed, and adjusted her bra. By this point, the adrenaline had receded enough for her body to remember it wasn’t thirty anymore. Her neck was already starting to complain; she’d probably pulled a muscle while coming.
Wiping her cheeks with an unsteady hand, she realized something. “Sadie—you didn’t—would you like me to—?”