Jamie opened her eyes briefly enough to see Etta looming over her, body undulating with swift, precise movements as she ground her hips against Jamie’s, fingers plunging deeper with every thrust. It was clear that Cindy was nothing but a body to her. A useful, good-looking body that existed purely to relieve her sexual desires. That was fine. She could work with that. Never mind as her own body responded by growing wetter, clenching greedily around those relentless fingers, meeting every thrust in that blasted chair.
Whether it was the awkward position or Etta’s wish not to even look her in the eye, she backed away, fingers glistening from Jamie’s core. Without a word, Etta pulled her off the chair and hauled her to the only surface high enough to pin her against: the wet bar, which lost its empty glasses when Etta shoved them to the carpet and pressed Jamie against the flat bar top.
“Ah!” She made that sound more than once as her fingers struggled to find purchase against the far end of the bar, and Etta pulled her left leg up with a strong, commanding hand. Her hips were quick to press forward, grinding against Jamie’s slick heat while her fingers dove in again. The hand not penetrating her snatched the back of her neck and pushed down her head.
This was it. Etta was not only completely giving in to her desires, but she was going down with as much control as possible. Cindy had tempted her to the point of the worst weakness a woman could experience. Now, Cindy mustbepunished.
If Jamie were Etta’s girlfriend or some other partner with a potential future, she would train her with spanks and firm words. But she wasn’t. Jamie was inconsequential. Some irresistible seductress who was to be punished unlike she had ever experienced before.
The most amazing thing? How good it felt.
This wasn’t something they could achieve on a normal night. Not even on their kinkier nights. Jamie would rarely have the chance to unleash something like this from Etta again. She probably didn’t even want to dabble with it more after tonight. This was sex fueled by anger, guilt, and enough shame to make a woman realize she knew what she did was wrong. Even if, at the end of the day, it really was Jamie she fucked, in the heat of the scene it uncovered all of the feelings Etta would have felt if she truly succumbed to some other woman.
So while it scared her a little, Jamie was not about to unleash a safe word of any kind. If anything, she would ride this out until her body couldn’t take it anymore. Or she came. That was more likely to happen at this rate.
“Fuck!” Etta roared, her fingers buried so deep inside of her that Jamie struggled to take more. She wanted to. She was going to come, and she wanted to feel every bit of it where it mattered most. “Why do you have to feel so fucking good?”
Because it’s me. Jamie wouldn’t kid herself. She wasn’t that special at the end of the day. They were both a couple of people indulging in one of the finer points of life: sex. Raw, unadulterated sex that they couldn’t achieve with any other.
Okay, so maybe shewasthat special.
Etta gripped Jamie’s neck, her shoulder. She gripped her thigh, her fingers thrusting harder, deeper, filling Jamie until she couldn’t possibly take any more, even if she wanted, or if Etta had more to give. The harder she pounded, the more Jamie prepared to scream in orgasm.
Her release hit before Jamie’s. With an unforgettable roar, Etta groundagainst her, trembling with her own climax as Jamie’s body broke into one of its own, determined to take her down with her.
Because Jamie was definitely falling off the bar.
It was a slow fall. The kind that was fueled by the heat of the moment, some slip of the heel, or lessening grip of the finger. Jamie gradually fell to the carpet, her knees hitting it before her hands did. The whole time? Etta was still on top of her, still inside her, laughing one incredible second at a time as she kept herself wrapped around Jamie.
Everything ended with Jamie huddled on the floor, Etta on top of her, inside her, heaving breaths of disbelief against her throat. Hair was shoved aside to make room for lips on her skin.
Etta pulled off the mask, unveiling Jamie. “I think I got my money’s worth,” Etta muttered, before craning Jamie’s head around to kiss her lips.
“I still don’t see it,” Jamie said, staring at the clear night sky. “No matter how many times you point, I don’t think I’m capable of seeing it.”
“It’s right there.” Etta dropped her arm, exasperated. “Are you really the woman I’m going to marry? Because I’m not sure I can be with someone who can’t see Orion.”
Jamie ignored that, choosing to instead curl up in Etta’s arms. After their grand fun in the lounge downstairs, they moved up, bypassing the parties dying down elsewhere in favor of having the main balcony to themselves. Maids waited on them, bringing them champagne and enough snacks to make Jamie not fit into her wedding dress the following week.
For half an hour, they lay around, taking up two lounge chairs as they watched the beautiful mountain star-scape before them. Every once in a while, someone passed by in the house behind them, but theyignored that inner world and concentrated on the small one they built together.
Etta didn’t comment on Jamie’s appearance, other than to say she knew it was her the moment she saw her engagement ring glistening on her hand. Jamie admitted that she had no idea what was planned until Helen drove her up here. “Helen? Of course she was in on it. What was that stupid story about Amsterdam? Like she would risk me kicking her ass for cheating on Monique.” That was all Etta had to say about that.
Instead, she was more interested in asking Jamie about her last-minute wedding preparations, like the dress fitting she survived two days ago. They both used the word “survived” because Bonita was a tornado of Italian swears, and Luna spent the whole time crying. Later, Jamie found out her mother was high on some pot brownies she baked in poor Beatrice’s kitchen when she wasn’t looking. Then Bonita had a brownie. Then Harris snuck one. Next thing Jamie knew, she was surrounded by potheads laughing over the lines in her wedding dress. She had to make her mother promise not tospike anythingat the wedding reception.
Etta fed her some crackers. She poured her more champagne, even after Etta protested and said she couldn’t possibly drink even water that night. Jamie laughed, happy to drink her champagne for her. She had some catching up to do.
It was nice, having that privacy up in the mountains. Monique assured them there was an empty guest room with their names on it, plus breakfast in the morning, before they headed home.
Until they decided to turn in, Jamie was content to be fed crackers while she buckled down beneath Etta’s suit jacket, and she played with the curls in her hair. After she had enough champagne, she started asking her questions she always wanted to know the answers to, but never bothered to inquire about.
For example, how had Etta lost her virginity? “I was seventeen, if you believe it,” she confessed, one finger wrapped in Jamie’s hair. “I mean, ifyou can believe I was that old.”
“I believe it.” This was Etta they were talking about. She probably waited until she met the perfect girl to try it for the first time. “Go on. I only know it was in your crappy old car.”
“Yup. I took her out for dinner at Taco Bell, then we went to the lookout point where everyone does it. Nothing special. Oh, she came, if that counts.”
“A virgin getting another girl off? That definitely counts.” Jamie could barely stop laughing at the images in her head. “Who was it? Your girlfriend?”
