“If you don’t want me to go down on you, I won’t.” Greta cupped her face in both hands. “I am one hundred percent okay with whatever you want here.”
And maybe because that was true, Kaelee wanted this. “I want your mouth on me tonight.”
“Best Christmas gift ever.” Greta took her hand and led her to the bed where they’d been sleeping. Silently, she used her free hand to pull back the duvet and top sheet.
They both paused. Kaelee released the hand Greta was holding. Neither of them spoke, and it felt as if there was a weight to the silence. The only sound was breathing—and the thunder of Kaelee’s heart.
I love her. I love her, and that’s why I trust her.
A part of Kaelee wanted to confess that truth, wanted to hear Greta say it, too.
“I can’t promise that I can do this again,” Kaelee admitted.
“You don’t have to even promise to do it right now,” Greta quickly countered. She waited, not hurrying her as Kaelee unfastened and shoved down her trousers and shorts. She held her gaze and asked, “May I kiss you everywhere? Can we start with that?”
“Yes.”
The smile on Greta’s lips was only visible for a moment before she leaned in and captured Kaelee’s mouth. Kissing Greta was always wonderful, but tonight felt different, more, and Kaelee hoped that her insecurity and anxiety would stay dormant.
Greta pulled backed. “Head on the pillow, please.”
She watched as Kaelee reclined, and there was no way that Kaelee could see anything but acceptance and affection in Greta’s gaze. She watched her in a way that would’ve eased any worries she had—if she had them.
“Touch me,” Kaelee ask-ordered.
“Gladly.” Greta’s hands and lips skimmed the lines of Kaelee’s body, not missing the sharp cuts of her biceps or the small rise of her breasts.
Despite the muscles that she worked hard to maintain, Kaelee still felt self-conscious. There was no airbrushed perfection in real life. Her ribs felt too visible, her tattoos too dark, her scar from a childhood fall too stark. Then she looked at Greta’s expression.
Awe. Joy. Love.Everything in her gaze was positive.
Greta’s fingertips brushed over a ticklish spot and Kaelee jumped slightly. Her lips curled into a smile. “I forgot how ticklish I could be.”
“Good thing? Bad thing?” Greta met her eyes.
“Neutral.”
As Greta worked her way lower, she lavished affection on Kaelee’s hip bone, belly button, the flat firmness of her stomach.
And still Kaelee was at ease. She parted her legs wider, cradling Greta there, and said, “Keep going, please.” Her voice was steady, even though she had to hold on to the headboard of Greta’s bed to force herself not to reach out.
I am surrendering control.
I want this.
I want her to feel the way I do when I get her off.
That was the part that Kaelee had never experienced. Sure, she enjoyed pleasure, but an orgasm was an orgasm. She didn’t needmuch to get there, so why trust anyone to put their face near her most tender place? The difference was that with Greta, Kaelee felt safe. She cared that Greta had everything she could want in bed—not just orgasm after orgasm—and Greta was blunt about wanting to satisfy Kaelee in every way.
Kaelee watched as Greta slid her fingertips along Kaelee’s damp flesh and looked up, seeking permission yet again. There was something beautifully erotic about seeing the woman she loved staring up at her in that hopeful way, and Kaelee understood Greta’s earlier words that she was still in control, even on her back.
In control of my body.
In control of my pleasure.
“Yes,” Kaelee reiterated.
And Greta lowered her mouth to Kaelee’s flesh. Her tongue was firm and sure, and her attention was slow and seductive. Within moments, Kaelee’s hips were lifting, offering herself up, wanting more.
