“Why?” I whisper the single word.
Her eyes blaze, the glassiness of her buzz suddenly looking eerily similar to tears.
“So I could scent match with you, too, and not feel all this guilt over wanting you the same way I want him.”
Before the words can truly register, she’s leaning toward me, closing the distance between us in a sudden, clumsy lunge. Her wine sloshes onto my shirt, but she doesn’t seem to notice. In the next breath, her lips are against mine. They’re soft, quietly coaxing without being demanding.
I suck in a gasp.
“Billie…” I whisper. I pull away enough to see her, to try and figure out just exactly what is happening.
Her cheeks are flushed, the glassy haze in her eyes gone, replaced with something I’ve only ever seen with Rhett: desire. I gently pull the wine glass from her grip, setting it behind me without looking away from her. I can’t. It’s as if my entire ability to live, to exist, is tied to her gaze locked with my own.
“What are you doing?” I ask. The question falls between us, a pebble dropped in a lake. “Are… why…”
She trails her fingers up my thigh, pulling the hem of my skirt higher and higher. I swallow the half-formed question.
“Do you want to?” she asks. My confusion only deepens. “Because it’s something I’ve thought about since Halloween. I want to know what they know.”
“What’s…” I swallow. “What’s that?”
Her hand flattens on the very top of my thigh, her fingers spreading wide, just brushing where my panties cover my pussy.
“How you taste,” she says without a bit of hesitation. “The sounds you make when someone’s making you come. If you prefer it with toys or without.”
It all clicks into place, what those long stares and fluttering feelings have meant. Some were because of Paxton, yes, but also because of her.
I scent all over again, stronger and bolder than before. Something like victory flashes in her eyes before she closes the distance between us again. This time, there’s nothing but hot demand in the feel of her lips and the bite of her teeth. The wine is a dry bitterness on her tongue as I taste her.
I try and tell her, try to explain my inexperience. “I haven’t ever?—”
“Me either.”
Her words shoot right through me. They rob me of rational thought. Her hand twists into my hair, pulling it from the low bun with a casual ease Rhett, for all his careful caresses, has never quite managed.
Her peach scent slowly blends with the orchid before mine completely envelops it.
And then I’m nothing but instinct, letting the desire burning through me lead my movements. Her shirt’s pulled off a half-minute before my own. I trace the bond bite on her collarbone, and she freezes for a heartbeat, her eyes wide and her chest heaving. Then she’s moving again. She manages to unhook my bra before I can try for hers, and then her lips are covering one nipple, pulling it into her mouth. I arch into her with a gasp.
“You’ve never…” The words fall away as she focuses on my other breasts, letting her teeth scrape along the nipple beforepopping off of it. I hiss as it hardens in the sudden almost-cool air of the apartment.
“No,” she says, running her tongue down my sternum. “I made out with a couple girls in college but never did anything else.”
God, it doesn’t feel like she’s never done any of this before. Once again, I feel like the young, naïve girl. It should probably bother me, but I just sink into the feeling, letting her lead me just like Rhett has. It settles that Omega nature inside me, trusting someone else with the control in this part of my life.
She flicks both of my nipples with her thumbs, then trace the hardened peaks with one nail. Goosebumps race across my skin, and I whine, canting my hips to try and find some kind of relief from the growing pressure. I slowly caress her, feeling every inch of her skin I can reach. She hums against my skin, adjusting above me, pushing into me until I lean back on my elbows.
“I want to taste you,” she says, slowly licking down my stomach and around my belly button. She glances up at me. It takes me a minute to realize she’s making sure she can, that I’m willing.
“Y-yeah, okay,” I manage to gasp.
She doesn’t take my skirt off, only wedges it up high enough that she can peel my panties down and toss them toward our shirts.
And then she’s biting up my inner thigh, no hesitation in her movements at all, and I practically scream as she licks me, one long swipe of her tongue along all of my pussy and clit. I twist my hands into her hair as she settles on her forearms, her hands holding my hips to the floor. Everything bleeds away from me outside of her touch and her tongue and her hair falling against my arms as I press harder into her, driving her faster. She doesn’t panic, just responds to my wordless urging, taking me to the edge so fast it really should be illegal. Before I can prep for it,the orgasm detonates, blasting through me and leaving nothing but wreckage behind. My toes curl, and my fingers dig into her scalp. I’m moaning and grinding against her face, slick rushing down my thighs and onto her chin.
She slowly pulls away as my frantic movements slow, my mind piecing itself back together. She rests her head against my right hip, tracing small shapes on the inside of my left thigh. Her cheeks are flushed, her nipples peaking through the thin fabric of her bra. I ease onto my elbows, releasing her hair. She raises an eyebrow.
“Your turn,” I say, my voice more steady than I’d expected.
