“Bedroom,” Regan managed to pant out. “Sutton and I promised we’d never defile the living room couch, and I respect that promise, and Ineedus to go to my bedroom – now.”
She’d never been more relieved, more turned the fuck on, than she was when Emma nodded with no hesitation.
Regan’s knees were weak as she slid off Emma’s lap and stood, and – wait, what?
As soon as gravity took over, her overalls slid off her body, pooling at her feet, leaving her standing in front of Emma in her sports bra and ruined underwear.
“When did you do that?” She asked, pointing down at her overall straps, which were – clearly – unsnapped. “I didn’t even feel it.”
“When you were biting my nipple, and I felt like I was going crazy needing to touch more of you,” Emma answered, smartly, her voice hardly more than a rasp.
“You’re perfect.” Regan stepped out of her overalls and grabbed Emma’s hand tightly, pulling her up. “Let’s go.”
Because she was seconds away from stripping them both down and pushing Emma back down against the couch, promises to her best friend be damned.
twenty-six
“Emma,”Regan’s breathless cry wasn’t really all that loud, but Emma shuddered with it, feeling like it exploded in the dimmed lighting of Regan’s bedroom.
Emma had Regan pressed against the doorframe, her own hands working fervently over Regan’s body. She’d had such limited space to touch when they’d been on the couch, as Regan had been so determined to explore Emma’s chest.
And she wasn’t complaining, not by a fucking mile, because Regan’s mouth had feltsogood.
But, “You’re not the only one that’s desperate to touch,” she rasped out, before nipping her teeth into Regan’s throat. That sensitive place she’d found days ago, that made Regan melt.
As if on cue, she felt Regan’s legs shake, and she pressed herself even more firmly against Regan, holding her up.
Had Emmaeverfelt so viscerally satisfied? She didn’t think so; there was no way.
Regan was so responsive to her, to everything she did. And Emma wanted to touch everywhere she possibly could.
She hooked her fingertips into Regan’s sports bra, tugging up slightly, urging Regan to lift her arms and let Emma take it off.
Regan complied, immediately, and that easy compliance shot another streak of heat down between Emma’s legs. “I didn’t – I didn’t know this was going to happen,” Regan panted, as Emma pulled off her bra. “I would have worn my own sexy bra, if I did.”
“I didn’t know, either. And you don’t need a bra to be sexy,” Emma informed her, before she slid her hands up the gentle curve of Regan’s little waist and cupped her breasts.
She felt Regan shudder against her and watched how she dropped her head back against the doorway, before she leaned back in; the long line of Regan’s neck wasbeggingfor her attention.
Really, though, Emma hadn’t planned for this to happen.
Sure, she’d spent all day at work trying desperately to stay focused on the final Alton Fellowship interviews rather than letting her mind wander to Regan. To the sounds Regan made when she came, the sounds that reverberated in Emma’s mind like an echo chamber. It only got more intense as the days went on.
It was as though every orgasm she experienced with Regan without actually being able to physically touch her simply made Emma’s need even more urgent.
She’d tried to keep them on a fine line of satisfaction – she’d had to face the reality that they weren’t going to be able to stay PG, not after that first night – without making any hasty decisions.
But when she’d arrived home from work, eager and wanting, so ready to see Regan after a long day of being apart from her, and Regan… hadn’t been here.
She’d been so – ridiculously – disappointed. Regan had sent her a text, informing her that she had to go and see her sister at the last minute, but Emma hadn’t seen it until she’d already arrived at their empty apartment.
And in that disappointment, in the too-quiet stillness of their apartment without Regan inside of it, Emma had far too much time tothink.
She’d sat on the couch, trying to put something on tv to have some sound in the background… and all she’d thought about was the way she and Regan had ended up making out on the couch every night. She could see, so clearly, in her mind the different positions they’d found themselves in – Regan in her lap, the way they’d laid facing one another on their sides, the way Regan had pulled Emma to lay on top of her.
She’d groaned, forcing herself to get up, and – listlessly – had gone into her bedroom. Only to stare at the bed, thinking about her new bedtime routine. How she hadn’t read before she’d fallen asleep in almost a week, because she was, instead, fucking herself with Regan’s words and whimpers and moans in her ear.
She’dtriedto keep a level head. She’d tried to tell herself that she should make them something for dinner. That she could get some reading done, now. That she could get a jumpstart on some emails for tomorrow.