“Open,” Sloane demanded, her words thick and husky even to her own ears.
Arwyn’s lips twitched in amusement before her eyes fluttered open slowly. “Ask nicely,” she whispered before her breath hitched.
Sloane could only imagine what she’d done to elicit that response. And she could imagine a lot. Fingers dipping.
Sliding. Plunging. Teasing. The enjoyable ache of unmet desire turned painful.
“Open,” she repeated, resting her knee on the edge of the bed.
“Is that nice?” Arwyn asked with a smirk.
Sloane lost ground in the battle as she reached out, parting Arwyn’s knees herself. There was no resistance.
She’d played right into her hand, the hand covering the immediate focus of Sloane’s attention.
“Ask nicely,” Arwyn demanded, keeping her palm flat against herself as her fingertips moved so slowly against her entrance. In the diabolical act, Arwyn concealed herself while teasing the promise of what lay just beneath her hand.
There was no doubt left in Sloane’s mind. Arwyn was an evil genius, and she was in love with her.
Sloane found her lips moving and sound coming from her throat, but she hadn’t intended to speak. Her body had mutinied and overthrown her ego. “Please.”
Arwyn’s eyes darkened in delight. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”
One by one, Arwyn withdrew her fingers until she was finally naked and holding herself open for Sloane’s famished, greedy gaze.
“Kiss me,” Arwyn demanded.
She’d barely gotten out half a syllable before Sloane was diving between her thighs.
“Not there,” Arwyn said, snapping her legs closed just before Sloane could get close enough to taste her.
Sloane nearly cried at the locked door blocking her advance, but she’d already given up too much. She slid up her warming body, the pool water gone, lost to the fibers of her organic cotton sheets.
Even in the low light, Arwyn’s face was visibly flushed.
That beautiful face could never stop betraying her.
Complying with her earlier demand, Sloane slid over her body, holding herself up over her as she dipped down, her lips glancing over hers.
Lips moved slow and methodically over Arwyn’s mouth, down her chin and against the staccato pulse bouncing wildly in her neck. Sloane ran the tip of her tongue over the point before biting down with her teeth and lips.
“Fuck,” Arwyn cursed, arching o the bed as her nails dug into Sloane’s lower back.
You’ve overplayed your hand, she wanted to say when she realized Arwyn was inching toward the edge but didn’t. This wasn’t the time to goad her. There would be so much time for that later. Maybe even a lifetime.
As if of their own accord, Arwyn’s legs slid open, inviting Sloane to insinuate herself between them. She didn’t hesitate for a second to exploit the act of treason.
The moment she pressed against Arwyn, her muscles failed. She thought she was ready to know if Arwyn wanted her just as much as she did. She wasn’t. It was more overwhelming than she could imagine. But after the culmination of years of foreplay, she should have expected i
t.
Neither of them would be more turned on than in this moment. There was just nothing like the pent of carnal lust of the first time.
Grinding against her, Sloane wanted more. To feel the full extent of the slick, soaking wet heat coating her pelvis. To taste it. To drown in it.
As Sloane left a dark, purple mark at the center of Arwyn’s chest she hoped would last, Arwyn tangled her fingers in her hair. Writhing and squirming beneath her, Arwyn gasped and moaned until yanking Sloane’s head away.
“I’m not going to draw blood,” Sloane joked before being shoved onto her back.