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“Not for that,” she sighed, swatting my hand, but I saw the desire in her eyes.

“Yes, for that.” I dragged my finger over her shaved mound and felt her legs fall open just a bit. It might’ve been by accident, it might’ve been because she wanted me to touch her.

I touched her.

I curled my finger against the smooth knot of her clitoris and watched her face go peaceful, her pretty cheeks, bare of makeup, grow flushed.

“Not for food,” I said. “I’m too keyed up to eat…or sleep.”

“It’s only ten,” she said.

“Then why are we in bed?” I slipped my moist finger into the tight hot wetness between her legs.

Ro shrugged, her eyes going sparkly with unshed tears. “I don’t know. I just wanted to…take care of you.” It came out on a sob.

“Oh, baby,” I whispered. “Don’t cry.”

“I’m allowed.”

I laughed. “You are allowed.” I tried to lean over and kiss her but my muscles protested and I groaned.

“Oh, Lord,” she sighed, but she smiled in the low light of the bedroom lamp. “Let me.”

She pressed her body up against mine, shoved her fingers into my damp hair and kissed me. Hard.

I hissed when her lips pressed to the cut on my lips but when she backed up I pulled her in again. “No, no, it’s good. It’s a good hurt. Reminds me I’m alive and that I got to come home to you.”

She shook her head, said nothing. I knew it was to keep from crying.

Her fingers explored my skin under my tee. She touched gently along the small swell of my belly, up over my ribs, finding my breasts with her strong hands, she pinched my nipples until I shifted a little. It always got me off, when she was rough with my nipples. That pleasant bite of pain never failed to make me soft and hot and ready.

“The one place on me that’s not bruised,” I joked. She shook her head again.

“Harl-” She meant to scold me but I put a finger over her lips.

“If you don’t let me joke, I’m going to fall apart. And I can’t handle that.”

She nodded and went back to kissing me, stroking my tongue with hers. She took her time, slow and easy, so that I could taste sweet wine and what tasted like chocolate on her tongue.

“Help an old woman out,” I sighed, twirling one midnight colored lock around my finger and tugging. “Get over me so I can taste you for real. Please,” I added, because manners counted.

“Not tonight. You’re too tired.” Ro kissed a wet line from below my ear to my clavicle and my breasts puckered with goose bumps under her warm hands. She squeezed me. Sighed.

“No I’m not.” I put my hand over hers, trapping them under my shirt and against my skin. So she could feel my heart. “I need this. To feel alive and safe and honor what I have with you. I have you still. Still here. Still alive. Now fuck me,” I snickered, to make her smile.

Ro rolled her eyes, bit her lip in that way that makes me nuts, and finally gave me a short nod. “Take your clothes off.”

“Oh bossy, bossy. First you tell me to put them on, now you tell me to take them off.” When I grimaced from trying to take off my tee, she kissed me on the forehead and helped me take off what I’d just put on.

“I am bossy. Aren’t you used to it by now?”

I ignored her because when I was nude again, she kissed the very tops of my thighs, pushing her hot fingers against my nether lips. Parting me and stroking me and then finally touching me right in my center where I needed her. My hips moved up, forcing a shiver of pain through me, but I didn’t care.

“Come on, get up here.”

“It’s been ages since we did old school sixty-nine,” she teased. She pushed her lower body over my upper body as she said it. Her milky thighs parting for me, Ro lowered herself just a smidge so that I didn’t have to crane my already sore neck. I smelled the sweet rich scent of her pussy and let it wash over me, a soothing smell that made me think home. I dropped a single gentle kiss on her pussy and she stilled.

“I might cry when I come,” she said, her voice barely contained emotion and classic Rowena honesty.

“Me, too,” I said.

That seemed to satisfy her because she let me push my lips to her nether lips. I parted her with my tongue, gathering all her sweet wetness with my mouth. I sucked boldly, drawing that swollen pink flesh against my lips and teeth and tongue and when Ro groaned it rumbled up through me because she had put her mouth on me. Her silken lips brushing, soft like rose petals, on my tender sex.

I couldn’t help myself, I drove myself up to meet her mouth. Even though it hurt me to do it, I did it again. And she took me, latching on, sucking, finding a way to push her small fingers inside of me and flex them so I came hard and fast out of nowhere.

“Jesus,” I said against her. My tongue never stopping, not even when I said the word. My orgasm had taken be by surprise-swift and brutal-primal. No doubt a response to my brush with death. She lapped at me softly, knowing I was tender. Knowing it would be too much, but even too much, I relished it. I shoved my fingers, a thick greedy bunch of them, inside her cunt. I thrust hard, latching onto her clit and giving it my mouth’s undivided attention. When her knees started to shake and she had stopped licking at me to gather her ‘reward’ as she called it after I came, I knew I had her. And God, how I wanted her right that way. Under my spell, shaking for me-mine.

She was mine and I was so fucking glad to see another day of her being mine.

Ro pressed her forehead to my knee. Her upper body bowing down to press my legs as she mashed her pussy tight to my seeking mouth.

When she came it was all sweet wetness and soft cries. She let me clean every last drop, her body pressing to my face so all I could hear in my head was my own tongue and my thundering heart.

Until I heard her crying.

She rolled away but I caught her ankle even through the tangle of bed sheets and my discarded clothes. “Come on up here.”

“I’ll be right back-” She sobbed, tried to flee.

“Come up here Rowena,” I said, using her full name.

She crawled to me, tucked herself up against me, let me hold her. “It’s okay, don’t cry,” I said.

“I’m crying, deal with it,” she huffed.

It made me smile.

“Fine.”

“Dealing with it’s in the line of duty,” she said, her voice catching, though I could tell she was trying to make a joke.

“How so?”

“In the line of duty of being my girl,” she said, kissing me. Her mouth was trembling and we both pretended not to notice.

“Then I’ll gladly deal with it,” I said, stroking her hair.

Evil Streak

I was primping and Elliot was digging for cufflinks. Who the hell wears cufflinks anymore, you ask? My man. That’s who.

“I told your mother you’d come and meet her new beau this weekend,” I said, chewing my lip to keep from laughing.

He stilled and my pulse picked up. His fingers that had been tickling through his nightstand debris stopped and he looked up at me. His cool green eyes were curious and starting to darken a bit with approaching annoyance. “You what?”

“She calls me all the time!” I said, trying not to smile. I knew it was cruel, but I’d done it anyway. A bit of a payback for his constant overtime as of late. I felt neglected and lonely and my revenge had been to toss him to his mom and her new boyfriend Bob like tossing a wounded antelope to a particularly hungry lion.

“So?” He started to move his hands again, but I felt him watching me.

“So, why doesn’t she call you and ask you to meet Bob? Bob who boats, Bob who golfs, Bob who collects vintage beer cans.” I put my earrings in, spritzed myself with perfume and straightened my necklace.

When I turned to him, he was watching me. Fiercely. Now I felt like the antelope.

“So you tell her that. Mother June, call Elliot yourself.”

“Mother June,” I snorted. “What is this, the fifties?”