life.
She’d fucking sang our song. Oh sure, I knew it was a ploy, a scene-stealing mechanism. She was throwing the entire arsenal at me. Her tender knee massages, the steamy kiss in the bathroom, Queen lyrics. It was fucking working.
And I was too stupid and horny to ignore it. All thoughts of her betrayal had gone out the window when I’d seen her belting and shaking it up on that stage. I’d always loved her voice, the raspy, sexy sweetness of it. It was as if the Northern Lights were moving through that room as she lit it up, fluffing those beautiful dark curls and flashing her amber eyes at me. Those sexy legs had stamped up and down the small platform, and over my heart.
It was the only reasonable excuse for why I was currently scouring the quaint bed & breakfast we were staying in for her.
My growing cock led me down to the kitchen, my body following it as if I was an owner being pulled along by the leash attached to a very impatient dog.
Our telepathy was never far off, because when I walked into the small Irish kitchen, Leighton sat at the tiny wrought iron table nursing a cup of tea. Her mouth dropped open a little when I walked in, but she recovered, moving that sly smirk back onto her cherry-stained lips.
“Couldn’t sleep either, Freddy Mercury?”
I didn’t feel like hearing her smart mouth at the moment. I didn’t feel like hearing anything at all besides the soft moans that would drift out of her throat as I stuck my pointer and middle finger inside of her pussy.
So I silenced her. I strode up to the table, not quickly but not slowly either. Leighton even tried to back away from me, as if my forwardness was a threat. Good, I was glad I could shock and scare her for once.
When I came to stand in front of her, I didn’t stop. I bent over at the waist, locked my hands onto her cheeks and jaw, and took her mouth.
Again, it wasn’t rough but it wasn’t lazy. The kiss was to-the-point, demanding yet unhurried, a contradiction within itself. I stroked her tongue with mine, sealed my lips so thoroughly over hers so that the garbled noises couldn’t escape. There were other people in this house, and as much as I wanted to bury myself deep in Leighton, I also didn’t want to be caught.
Putting my hands under her armpits, I dragged her up, our lips never detaching. Leighton sucked at my tongue, a move that had my cock jumping to stiff attention, bumping against her flat stomach as she swarmed me.
My hands moved down the slim column of her body, fingertips over swells of breasts, palms over slim ribs and flaring waist. It was such deja-vu, as if no time had passed at all and I had been stuck in this moment for four months. I moved up and under her thin cotton sleep tank, running the backs of my hands over her skin, skimming my knuckles, up…up…up until they hit the smooth skin under her breasts.
“Of course you’re not wearing a bra.” I couldn’t help the thought that popped out.
“Did you expect anything else?” Leighton’s breathy voice blew against my lips before she fused us together once again.
Her nipples were hard and peaked by the time my fingers brushed over them, and I rolled them, testing her sensitivity. I could always tell by how she reacted to me playing with her breasts if she was ready or not. If she was going to be wet and dripping if I stuck my hand into her panties.
Leighton’s knees practically buckled as I pulled and pinched her straining buds.
There was something in the air between us, like all of the wires in the house were alive and making the oxygen around us crackle and snap. It felt like the first time between us, but in reality we’d done this hundreds, maybe even a thousand, times. There was excitement but peace, anticipation but knowing, strangeness but familiarity.
“Please Finn…”
Those two words, some of the last words she’d spoken to me four months ago. Ugly black thoughts began to drench my brain, bringing me back to the hurt and pain
C. J. Cherryh
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