“Tris,” Jett whispered, partly in wonder and partly in need. She’d slept, but restlessly, her body sending mixed signals of satisfaction and lingering arousal. Once she’d touched herself, squeezing her turgid clitoris, and cutting points of pleasure had shot through her. But she hadn’t wanted to finish, preferring instead to tease herself while remembering Tristan surrendering in her mouth. Recalling it now, she shuddered.
“Baby,” Tristan murmured. “Baby, what do you need?”
“Anything,” Jett whispered, reaching for Tristan’s hand.
Tristan laced her fingers through Jett’s, gripping her fingers tightly.
“Tell me what you don’t want me to do.”
“Nothing,” Jett said, arching into her. “There’s nothing I don’t want you to do.”
“That’s good.” Tristan eased to one side so she could run her fingers down the center of Jett’s stomach. “Because I want to do everything.”
Jett kept her eyes on Tristan’s as Tristan slid her fingers between her legs. Jett’s lips parted on a silent moan, and Tristan’s eyes shifted from blue to deep purple. Tristan’s satisfaction was Jett’s greatest pleasure, even now.
“You’re so hard,” Tristan murmured. “Have you been like this all night?”
“Yes,” Jett whispered.
“Baby.” Tristan kissed her, harder, catching Jett’s lip between her teeth, sucking as she gently rolled Jett’s clitoris between her fingers. “You should’ve let me do this last night.”
“You’re doing it now.” Jett panted, trying and failing to control herself as Tristan’s practiced strokes worked her closer and closer to coming. She grabbed Tristan’s hand.
“Too hard?”
“No,” Jett gasped. “You’re going to make me come.”
Tristan laughed, picking up speed. “And the problem is?”
Jett groaned, her hips lifting and circling of their own volition, chasing the sweet relief Tristan’s caresses promised. “Ruins…my reputation.”
“I’ll never tell.” Tristan watched Jett’s eyes roll back. Jett was right on the edge, and Tristan wanted to satisfy her. But she wanted so much more. She wanted to imprint her touch on Jett’s mind, on her body, on her soul, and the force of her desire frightened and confused her. She relaxed her grip and slowed her strokes.
“Oh God,” Jett moaned. “Tris…”
“I’m here,” Tristan whispered. “I want to be inside you. Can I?”
Jett covered Tristan’s hand with hers and pushed Tristan’s fingers lower, curling her own until Tristan glided inside her. The unfamiliar sensation was at once so exquisite and so intense her muscles spasmed and she had to bite her lip to keep from crying out. A small whimper escaped.
“It’s all right,” Tristan crooned, holding completely still until Jett relaxed enough for her to move her fingers. Then she thrust, slow and deep, using her thumb to massage Jett’s clitoris at the same time. Jett was swollen and hard and Tristan knew she could not hold her off much longer. Still, she wanted more, and she could think of only one thing that might prolong Jett’s pleasure. “Jett. Jett, baby, can you touch me?”
Jett traced Tristan’s forearm to the curve of her hip, over her thigh, and between her legs. She pressed against the base of Tristan’s clitoris, then circled.
Tristan sucked in a breath, instantly on the verge. “Oh yes.” She kissed Jett, starting to lose her grip, her mind completely unleashed. She pushed deeper, Jett manipulated her, and she had to pull away before she lost herself entirely. “Slow dow—”
“No,” Jett implored. “Come with me. Come with me, Tris, come with me.”
Somehow, Tristan sensed Jett waiting, holding back, and knew what Jett needed to trigger her. “Do me hard like you did last night.”
Jett’s hips jerked, and she squeezed Tristan tightly between her fingers. Squeeze, release, stroke. Squeeze, release, stroke. Once, twice, three times.
“Oh yeah,” Tristan cried, the first jolt racing through her. Instantly, Jett surged around her fingers, muscles clamping down, legs rigid as iron. Tristan felt teeth against her upper arm as Jett bit down, jaws working soundlessly as she exploded. Tristan rode the brief spike of pain to another peak, coming so hard she forgot to breathe until spots danced behind her eyelids.
“Tris, Tris,” Jett whispered, her face pressed to Tristan’s shoulder. “Oh, Jesus. Don’t stop.”
“Don’t worry, baby. I won’t. I won’t.”
Tristan was in trouble, because she never wanted to stop.
Tristan hadn’t meant to fall asleep again, but every time Jett made her come, the physical and emotional catharsis was so intense her body just shut down. This time when she woke she was immediately aware of bright sunshine and the utter stillness of being completely alone.
Abruptly, she sat up, scanning the room. Jett’s clothes were gone.
She leapt from bed, crossed the small room in three rapid strides, and yanked open the door to the main room of the cabin. Empty as well. A minute later, she jerked open the front door.
Jett turned at the sound of the door opening, and for a second or two, she thought she might still be in the midst of her daydream.
She’d been reliving the moments with Tristan—the heat of her body, the insistent press of her hands, her sharp cries of pleasure. She often replayed her sexual encounters, especially as the weeks between real life experiences stretched on. Faces and places would blur as she spliced highlights together, struggling to call up the perfect combination of sights and sounds to take her over the edge. As she gazed at Tristan’s naked body, she knew she would never need to imagine any other image to find satisfaction.
“I thought you were gone,” Tristan said, feeling a little foolish and a lot disoriented. She did not get bent out of shape over women.
She certainly didn’t panic if one of her dates left in the middle of the night. In fact, they often did. Then she realized what was different about Jett. She expected Jett to go because everything she knew about her indicated that Jett did not let people close, anywhere, even in bed.
That was nothing different than what Tristan was used to; in fact, it was exactly what she sought in the women she slept with. And while Jett might be behaving exactly as she usually did, Tristan definitely wasn’t.
Because she did not want Jett to go anywhere.
“I’m not exactly sure where we are,” Jett said. “I don’t have a car.” She eased her wallet from her back pocket and riffled through it. “And I don’t think seventeen bucks would get me too far.”
Jett replaced her wallet, opened the screen door, and wrapped both arms around Tristan’s waist. Then she backed her into the cabin, nudged the door closed, and turned Tristan against the door. She caught Tristan’s jaw in the palm of her hand, fingers spread on one side, thumb on the other, holding her head still as she scraped her teeth along the tight muscle in the side of Tristan’s neck. She leaned into Tristan, sucking on the buttery skin below Tristan’s earlobe, and eased her hand between Tristan’s legs. “And I had something else in mind.”
“Christ,” Tristan gasped, unable to believe she was ready again.
She couldn’t see Jett’s face because Jett kept her head turned away.
Jett’s shirt and pants felt like sandpaper against her sensitized skin. The metal grommet at the top of Jett’s pants was hot against her stomach.
Jett’s lips as they nibbled and tugged and sucked at her neck had the same effect as if Jett had her mouth between her legs, teasing her there.
And then Jett’s fingers were there, sliding and stroking and slipping into her. She grabbed Jett’s ass, digging her fingers into the hard muscles.
“Ah, Jesus, baby,” Tristan moaned. “You’re making me so hot.”
Jett rimmed Tristan’s ear, breathing hard as Tristan tilted her pelvis and invited her to take more. She had a hard time focusing on anything except the way Tristan grunted softly each time she touched her clit.
“I think you’re always hot.” She pinched Tristan’s clit, then rapidly circled it. Tristan’s knees buckled and she sagged. “You like that.”
“Yes.” Tristan closed her eyes. The pressure was building. She was close. “Yes. Yes.”
“Yes what?” Jett lifted her fingers away.
“Oh fuck,” Tristan groaned. “I want to come.”
“Do you?” Jett licked her way down to Tristan’s collarbone, reaching between them to open her own fly. She kept Tristan pinned to the door with her mouth against Tristan’s throat while she worked the hand she’d been using to immobilize Tristan’s head inside her pants.
Then she stroked them both at once.
Through her haze, Tristan heard Jett moan, felt her tremble, and tightened her grip on Jett’s hips. Knowing that Jett was getting off getting her off did it for her. “Feel me, baby? You’re making me come.”
As soon as Tristan started to climax, Jett barely had to touch herself to follow her over. Then they were both shivering and groaning and slowly sliding to the floor. Jett ended up on her knees, her forehead pressed to Tristan’s shoulder, Tristan’s hands rubbing her back and her neck while she whispered softly.
“So good, babe. So so good,” Tristan crooned.
“Needed you,” Jett gasped, “again. Sorry.”
Tristan laughed. “Oh, it was a hardship.” She sagged back against the door, stretching her legs out on either side of Jett. With an arm around Jett’s shoulders, she cupped Jett’s chin and lifted her head, studying her glazed eyes. The worried look was back again. So was the uncertainty. “I happen to like having you hungry for me.”
“Sometimes I forget to ask.”
“You don’t have to. I told you before what I wanted.” Tristan found Jett’s hand and pressed it between her legs. “And how I wanted it.”
Jett fondled her, and after a minute, Tristan moved Jett’s hand away and sighed. “We’re going to have to head back soon. Keep doing that and I’m going to want you to make me come.”
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