Page 192 of The Snowball Effect

She watched and felt Regan’s orgasm start to subside, her movements becoming slower and more relaxed, until Regan finally sighed and melted onto the bed under her.

Emma’s throat was dry, and her own clit was so hard, and she was so wet, she could feel her own sleep shorts sticking to the tops of her inner thighs. Thighs that were already trembling.

Not for the first time, she considered herself the luckiest woman on earth. Because Regan’s rebound period after coming was almost nonexistent, and she’d come to learn that Regan was rarely ever exhausted by an orgasm. If anything, coming seemed to reinvigorate her.

So, solucky, as Regan arched her hips up and let Emma slide her hand out, and then flipped herself over onto her back in the same breath.

Regan stared up at her, her face flushed, and her dark eyes bright and gleaming.

Emma couldn’t even manage a cogent sentence right now, but she didn’t have to. Because Regan moved so quickly, Emma could hardly register it.

But Regan slid her hand down into the waist of Emma’s shorts, immediately seeking out Emma’s clit.

Apparently, Regan wasn’t in the mood for teasing or playing games this morning, and Emma was so fucking grateful for that.

She rolled her hips down hard into Regan’s hand, already starting to shudder and throb from the way Regan rolled her fingers over her clit.

Still braced over Regan, she looked down at her. Watching Regan as Regan watched Emma’s body.

She hadn’t worn a shirt to sleep, her stomach and breasts were completely bare, and Regan stared at her, transfixed.

Emma moaned, tossing her head back as the need to come wound tighter and tighter inside of her. She felt no shame, not even the faintest hint of insecurity under Regan’s intent gaze. It only made this hot, aching,closefeeling build higher and higher inside of her.

She worked her hips harder, feeling viscerally satisfied at the way Regan’s mouth fell open on a whimper.

Regan worked her hand down, pressing two fingers inside of Emma’s clenching walls, as she firmly pressed her palm to Emma’s clit, and –

“Fuck!” She cried out, her orgasm crashing over her.

All she could hear was the blood rushing in her ears, and her thighs shook, as the pleasure wracked through her.

Just before that pleasure turned to discomfort, Regan gently slid her fingers out of Emma. She jerked, then caught her breath as Regan lightly brushed against her clit – yeah,thatwas the last ounce of pleasure – before she pulled her hand out of Emma’s sleep shorts.

She dropped down next to Regan on the bed, still catching her breath, as she felt Regan cuddle in close to her.

As her heart rate finally returned to normal, Emma let out a long, deep breath. She knew – knowing Regan – thatmorning conversationwas due to start any second now.

“So, what’s on the agenda today?” Regan asked.

Emma’s lips curled into a smile – bingo.

Before that smile immediately faltered as she recalled the thought she’d very intently been pushing to the back of her mind for the last couple of days.

“I should probably start looking for apartments,” she said, quietly.

She knew she wasn’t imagining things when Regan took a second longer to respond than she normally would. “Oh. Right.”

“I mean, it’s officially November. Sutton’s due back in December…” She trailed off, logic filling in the gaps.

The agreement had always been that Emma would find her own place at the end of Sutton’s internship. She’d signed it in the roommate contract.Obviously, Sutton was going to need to move back to her apartment.

So, she needed to find a place to move into by December.

“Yeah,” Regan whispered.

Emma’s stomach twisted unpleasantly, and she drew in a deep breath. Taking in the scent of Regan’s shampoo and laundry detergent, the way it had blended with Emma’s in their bed. She slowly glanced around, looking at the organized chaos of Regan’s room. At the map she had on the wall that she’d drawn, at that framed story Emma had written. At her plants. At her desk, where Emma’s laptop was now perched. The desk chair, where Emma had draped Regan’s Brandeis sweatshirt after she’d tugged it off before bed last night.

She licked her lips, her heart thudding, as she admitted softly, “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but… I don’t want to go.”

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