Dylan…
Her brain told her to say it.
Dylan…
Her tongue wouldn’t cooperate though. She swallowed some more. Linked her hands in front of her again.
Meanwhile, the real flesh-and-blood Dylan stood watching her, that cool expression she’d worn all evening on her face.
“Come here,” she said.
Ramona hesitated, but only for a second. She’d give Dylan the moon right now if she could. She walked over, stood in front of Dylan by the center island.
Dylan set her empty glass on the counter, her eyes never leaving Ramona. She watched her for so long, head tilted, eyes soft and hooded, Ramona started to squirm.
She started to sweat and breathe heavily.
She started to think maybe Dylan already knew, or at least knew that Ramona had used her.
But that wasn’t true.
Ramona…fuck.
RamonalovedDylan.
That was the truth of it.
But she couldn’t just say that. Not right now, not with so many other things she needed to say first, but she couldn’t say those things either. She didn’t want to say anything right now. She just wanted todo. To act, to show Dylan that she was hers.
Ramona washers.
She stepped closer, set her hands on Dylan’s waist, and pulled her against her body.
Dylan let her, eyes still watching her.
Then Ramona kissed her cheek. First one, then the other, going slow. Giving Dylan plenty of time to stop. She kissed her nose then. She moved to her eyebrows, listening to Dylan’s breathing stutter and start. Ramona worked her way around Dylan’s lovely face, trailing to her neck, below her ears, her throat.
Ramona let her hands roam too, up Dylan’s rib cage and around to her spine, then down over her ass and around her hips again. She wanted to touch every inch of her skin, every nerve ending, every goose bump her fingertips pulled to the surface. She kissed Dylan’s neck, reveling in the soft moan Dylan released. Ramona’s fingers stopped on the button of Dylan’s jeans, pausing before she kissed Dylan’s mouth.
“Give me a color,” Ramona said softly.
Dylan paused, eyes fluttering closed, then said, “Yellow.”
Ramona knew that meantcaution, to go slow, so that’s what she did. She cupped Dylan’s face in her hands, then kissed her mouth. Soft. Closed. Gentle and barely there, letting Dylan take the lead.
Ramona loved their sex life. She’d experienced things with Dylan she hadn’t with anyone else, things she never even thought she’d be into. But she was. She loved getting tied up and being called names and having to beg Dylan—Ms. Monroe—over and over to make her come. It was wild and exciting andsafe, and Ramona loved every moment.
And she loved this too.
This slow dance, emotional and quiet and close.
“Dylan,” Ramona whispered against her.
Dylan’s breath hitched, her mouth opening to Ramona’s, letting her in. Their tongues met, both women moaning at the contact, and Dylan finally grasped Ramona around the waist, pulling her closer and closer. The kiss grew deeper and more desperate, teeth andgasps and hands in each other’s hair. In this moment, Ramona didn’t think she’d ever wanted anything like she wanted Dylan right now—naked, sprawled underneath her, her mouth pressed between Dylan’s legs.
“Baby,” Ramona said, fingers skimming Dylan’s waistband. “Give me a color.”
“Green,” Dylan said, her mouth right under Ramona’s ear. “So green. Dark, bright, fluorescent, whatever.”
