“So much better than okay,” Jules told her. Deep down, she’d been a little afraid that sex with a woman might be somehow…less. She loved the feel of a big, strong man’s body against hers, the hard press of a cock between her legs.
But she needn’t have worried. If anything, being with a woman brought something extra to the experience. The weight of Sophie’s breasts, the brush of her hair on Jules’s shoulders, the way their bodies fit together… It was all thrilling and intensely erotic. She’d felt a heightened awareness of her senses, every movement of their bodies increasing her pleasure.
“I’m not quite finished with you yet,” Sophie said, looking smug.
“No?”
She shook her head, giving Jules a firm kiss before she dipped her head, pressing hot, openmouthed kisses over Jules’s neck and across her chest. She lavished her breasts with attention until Jules was panting all over again, squirming beneath her. Sophie kissed her way down her stomach, swirling her tongue around Jules’s navel before venturing lower.
Her breath caught in her throat as she realized where Sophie was headed, and a warm ache built between her thighs. Sophie gripped Jules’s legs as her mouth descended on her clit, her tongue flicking gently from side to side.
“Fuck,” Jules whimpered.
“That’s the idea,” Sophie said, her breath teasing Jules’s sensitized skin, and oh yeah, she was going to enjoy this.
Sophie set to work, exploring Jules’s most intimate parts with a combination of long, leisurely licks and the gentle suction of her mouth. After kissing every inch of her, she returned the delicious heat of her mouth to Jules’s clit, entering her with her fingers at the same time.
Jules arched off the bed, an embarrassingly loud cry escaping her lips. From there, she lost the ability to think beyond the hot pleasure of Sophie’s mouth and the orgasm building inside her. Her thighs shook, muscles straining as she grew closer to her release. She buried her hands deep in the mahogany depths of Sophie’s hair, holding on to her as she came apart.
“Sophie,” she cried, hips bucking as she came in a blinding rush. Aftershocks sizzled inside her, as if her blood had been infused with the champagne she’d drunk earlier.
Sophie slid up to lie beside her, and for several long minutes, they just lay there, facing each other. Jules’s body hummed with the bone-deep satisfaction that came from two powerful orgasms and a deeply intimate experience with her partner. Beside her, Sophie looked just as satisfied, a relaxed smile toying with the corners of her mouth.
“More champagne?” Jules asked, because she was thirsty and also because their evening seemed worthy of further celebration.
“Sure.”
She sat up, rummaging in her dresser for a couple of comfy T-shirts for them to wear. She handed a plain navy blue one to Sophie before pulling on an oversized gray tee with the ocean wave crest of her dad’s investment firm printed over the left breast. It was softened from years of washing, her favorite “lounging around the apartment” shirt.
They wandered into the kitchen to find Pippin sniffing at the box of pastries they’d abandoned in their rush to the bed. Jules shooed him off the counter while Sophie retrieved their champagne flutes. Jules filled them.
“Dessert part two?” Sophie snagged a snickerdoodle from the box.
“I think we’ve earned it.”
“Definitely.”
They brought the whole box—and the bottle of champagne—with them into the living room and sat together on the couch to indulge a post-sex sugar rush.
Jules rested a hand on Sophie’s thigh. “Stay the night?”
Sophie grinned. “I was hoping you’d ask.”
11
“Suck it up, Vega,” Sophie teased, wrapping an arm around Jules’s waist. “This was your idea, remember?”
Jules shivered dramatically, pressing her face into the shoulder of Sophie’s coat. “But it’s so cold tonight.”
“It’ll be worth it.” She gave Jules a squeeze, not at all bothered by the cold and positively thrilled by the chance to wander Manhattan with Jules at her side, even if it meant braving the crowds in Rockefeller Center at Christmastime.
After spending the better part of twenty-four hours in bed, exploring all the different ways to make each other come, they’d finally left Jules’s apartment. They posed for silly selfies in front of the oversized ornaments across from Radio City Music Hall before making their way toward the world-famous Christmas tree.
They were jostled by the crowd, bumping into each other frequently, which Sophie was pretty sure neither of them minded. She sure as hell wasn’t complaining. Jules’s gloved fingers gripped her own, her cheeks flushed from the cold, golden hair fanning out from beneath her red knit cap, stirred by the winter breeze.
“Not to sound like a cliché, but you look so gorgeous right now, I can hardly stand it,” Sophie told her.
Jules nudged her playfully. “Flatterer.”
