This was how Ramona had wanted her—spread out, vulnerable, laid bare. Just like Ramona had felt all night.
How she always felt around Dylan, if she was being honest.
“God,” Ramona said, sliding her hands down Dylan’s thighs. “You’re gorgeous.”
Dylan’s only response was to arch her back, those tits bouncing with the movement, nipples peaked and hips bucking at the air for friction. Ramona didn’t want to make her wait any longer.Shedidn’t want to wait any longer. She pressed her face between Dylan’s legs and inhaled, her nose right against that wet spot at the center of her underwear.
Dylan gasped.
And Ramona licked.
A slow slide of her tongue up toward Dylan’s clit.
“Fuck,” Dylan said, drawing out the vowel, breathy and needy.
The sound made Ramona crazy, just as desperate to devour her. She kept licking, swirling, sucking the cotton into her mouth, tasting Dylan through the barrier while Dylan writhed on the table.
Soon, though, the underwear was in the way. Ramona wanted more, so she stopped what she was doing, pushed Dylan’s legs together, and pulled down her underwear as fast as she could. It got stuck on Dylan’s ankle, but Ramona didn’t care, spreading Dylan out before her again.
“Oh my god,” Dylan said, right before Ramona’s mouth touched her, then said it again even louder when Ramona made contact. Skin to slick skin. “Baby, that’s so good.”
Ramona moaned against her, licking and kissing, sucking Dylan’s clit into her mouth until her body locked up, back arched, one of Ramona’s hands cupping her breast and pinching her nipple.
“Jesus,” Dylan said when she relaxed back onto the table. She looked down at Ramona. “You.”
Ramona smiled, but she wasn’t done yet. Not by a long shot. She loved making Dylan come any way she could, every way, but right now, she wanted something more.
Closer.
“Stay here,” she said, then turned and walked into the bedroom.
Chapter
Thirty-Three
Dylan sat up,still bare-ass naked on the kitchen table, her bones rubbery and loose. She watched Ramona walk into the bedroom, that perfect ass bouncing as she went.
She missed her already.
Which sounded ridiculous.
And completely sane all at the same time.
Dylan didn’t know how to talk to Ramona’s about her new job with Noelle. Didn’t know how to ask for more details, because she was terrified to know the answers.
Over the past few weeks, she and Ramona had shared more of their lives—they’d talked about Dylan’s experiences growing up, and Ramona had told her more about Rebecca Riley, and how it had felt when her mother left and never looked back, about the birthday cards she’d received for herself and Olive. Cards that petered out after about four years. Cards she’d hidden from Olive, a guilt she carried.
They’d shared so much, and yet Dylan never really asked about Ramona’s dreams. What shewanted. She was Ramona of Clover Lake. She seemed to belong here—she seemed to be happy here.And really, any question about the future, be it jobs or dream cities to live in, made Dylan feel lost and empty.
Lonely.
Because she didn’t want this to end with Ramona, no matter how it had started.
“Babe?” she called, because she needed Ramona closer. Needed her pressed to her skin, her breath in her ear.
“Patience!” Ramona called back, but then appeared in the doorway.
Dylan sucked in a breath.
