Page 42 of Crescendo

“I haven’t… in a long time,” I said, too turned on to even feel ashamed—or maybe just too safe with her to feel ashamed. “But I know I want you. Need you to touch me. Need to touch you.”

She lifted her head and smiled at me. “We can go slow.”

I breathed a laugh. “I… don’t know if I can.”

She looked up at me from under her lashes. “In that case, might I point out that I’m currently wearing a shirt with buttons that you could be making better use of.”

I laughed as my hands gripped her shirt and pulled her in for another scorching kiss, my fingers unbuttoning it rapidly. It wasn’t neat or tidy, but it was perfect. As was slipping her shirt and bra off, and the feeling of her stripping me of my clothes.

She stepped off the bed to pull her trousers off and the sight of her naked and wanting was probably the best thing I’d ever seen.

I blushed but held her gaze as she crawled back over me, licking my inner thigh as she went. I was already so very ready for her. She knew it too.

Her eyes gleamed as she settled, leaning over me, her fingers teasing along my thighs and my hips, getting closer and closer to where I needed her.

When she locked her gaze with mine, I couldn’t help but moan how much I needed her inside me. She smiled, watching me like she was absorbing every single tiny moment of this. And, when she ran her fingers over my clit and down, I writhed and cried out, begging her with my body.

She paused momentarily at my entrance, holding us there, both of us desperately aching. My fingers traced her inner thigh, feeling the tensed muscles as she held herself up, seeking her.

And she pushed inside me. Slow and sensual. Watching me with rapt attention as my eyes snapped shut, my mouth fell open, and I arched up into her touch. My head drove into her pillow with my body’s efforts to have her deeper in me.

The way she gasped my name when my fingers found her clit and I cried out in ecstasy, not caring who heard, got me closer and closer. It seemed to have a similar effect on her. She bucked her hips into my hand, matching my rhythm on her fingers, and I felt like I was flying and floating and falling all at the same time.

It was perfect. She was perfect. The way she played me like an instrument she’d known her whole life was perfect. I felt myself sinking deeper and deeper into my orgasm as I pulled her in for another messy, wonderful, gasping kiss, loving how she covered my hand as I did.

Our breaths mingled as we came, panting hard, one after the other.

It took a moment of spaced out bliss, but, eventually, the room and the present started coming back to us and we both laughed. I felt myself blushing hard, burning up from coming and from her.

“I did say I wouldn’t be very slow…” I murmured, a little nervously.

She pulled a couple of inches back from my face. “I’m not going to be sad that I can get you off that quickly.”

My stomach swooped and I bit my lip and looked away.

Lydia smiled before pressing a quick kiss to my lips and kneeling up. She gestured to her beautiful, soft, naked form. “It’s not like I lasted any longer. Are you sad about that?”

The sight of her, her sultry tone of voice, and her words burned through me, lighting me up again as if I hadn’t just come all over her hand. “Not at all.”

“Good.” She hummed and was, apparently, feeling the exact same way I was because she trailed one hand down my body from my sternum, teasingly over my breasts, and down my stomach as she positioned herself between my legs. “How do you feel about me going down on you right now?”

My body arched towards her again, a long, loud moan ripping itself from my chest.

She grinned delightedly, lowering herself down to meet me. “Exactly what I was hoping to hear. Make sure you scream my name, Ella.”

Chapter 11

Lydia

Ella didn’t play fair, because she went and said something likeoh, it could just be once, just for tonight,and then I wake up in the morning to find her in the kitchen, cooking up breakfast for the two of us without pants on, and I’m supposed to stick to that?

I hadn’t been inclined to in the first place. Melinda made a good point that I’d been looking for a mix-up, and that art came from passion, so I might as well chase what passion looked like for me right now to see what came from it.

And Ella made a very good point when she walked into the room and started grinding on my lap.

I leaned against the counter, folding my arms, taking a minute just to admire the scene—Ella with headphones on listening to something on her phone, leaning on the range cooking an omelet, and averynice pair of legs. She had a bit of a curve to her figure, and the swell of her thighs rising into her hips, emerald-green underwear sitting snugly on warm-hued skin with freckles dotted just below the band… she looked even better in the daylight than she had in the low glow of the lights in my room last night.

“Good morning,” I said softly, and she jumped just a little, turning back to me with a brilliant smile, slipping her headphones off.

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