They come together at the foot of the bed. Arms clasp tight, and their breath mingles between them as their foreheads touch. The moment feels intense to Kim, as if it’s a promise. As if it’s the start of something huge, something that will define her life from this moment.
Danika sighs gently, and then they are kissing. Their lips meld, and the desire that’s been simmering all evening flares into incandescent life once more. And it’s more than before, the first time, their only time, because now there’s love in the mix.
They ease out of their clothes, one piece at a time.
Kim lifts Danika’s floaty shirt over her head and drops it on the floor.
Danika unbuttons Kim’s shirt, pushes it from her shoulders. It catches at her waist and with a laugh, Danika undoes the button she missed so the shirt falls away.
Kim fumbles with the catch on Danika’s bra until she can undo it, and then kisses her pink nipples, one after the other, teasing them with her fingers and lips until they pucker in the still air.
Danika cups Kim’s full breasts, lifts first one, then the other to her mouth. The sight is so erotic, Kim’s knees tremble.
Then Danika’s jeans join the pile of clothes on the floor, along with her lacy undies. Kim’s pants slump to the ground in folds of rough wool, her undies caught up in them.
Naked, they sit on the bed and kiss again. A kiss for the ages, for the memory. The prelude to their making love, not for the first time, but the first time since they’ve admitted what they are to each other.
Kim leans back, fumbles with the quilt, trying to pull it back, to slide underneath it, but she overbalances and then Danika is on top of her, straddling her hips, leaning in to kiss her.
It’s not a romantic kiss this time; it’s one of need and want and urgency.
It’s one of love.
Kim wiggles a hand between their bodies, so she can touch between Danika’s legs. She’s wet already, and Kim’s fingers come away damp. She rears up, unseating Danika, who falls back on the mattress, and together they tussle for a moment, laughter trickling out of them, as their play-fight turns into tickles, which is definitely cheating.
Kim gains the upper hand, and she rests one hand on Danika’s belly, nudging at Danika’s thighs with the other until she parts them. Kim wants to taste her, push her fingers inside, fuck her, stroke her. She wants it all.
So she does it all. Her fingers push inside, her lips and tongue settle over Danika’s clit. Her own clit throbs, and she resists the urge to rub herself on the quilt. Her turn will come.
Danika’s hands fist in Kim’s hair. Her breathy moans fill the room, and in only a minute or two, she’s shuddering her way through her first orgasm.
A minute to catch her breath, then she takes advantage of Kim’s relaxation to change positions, so that she can taste too. Kim revels in how Danika’s more assured, confident in her role as lover.
Kim closes her eyes, visualises her body, every centimetre of it, how it’s feeling. How good she feels. How incredible Danika feels. And then she’s coming in a series of waves, and she has to tell herself to breathe.
Later, much later, as they settle in for sleep, Danika says, “And this is why we go to bed before nine. So we have time to love.”
Kim’s eyelids weigh heavy, but she manages a “Mm.” And then, “I love you.”
She thinks she hears Danika repeat the phrase before she drifts off to sleep, nestled in close to Danika’s side.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Danika
The dachshunds are adorable little sausages who scamper around with excited puppy yaps.
Cami is captivated, but when Danika asks if she’d like one, she shakes her head. “No thank you. I’d like something bigger.”
Visions of Irish wolfhounds parade through Danika’s head, and she says, “Not ginormous. Not Shetland pony size.”
Cami giggles. “No. Can we go back to the pound? Now? They’ll still be open.”
Danika raises an eyebrow. “Sure. If that’s what you want.”
Cami nods. “I want to see if Hugo is still there.”
Hugo? Oh, yes, the sad senior dog. “It’s been three weeks, Cami. Someone’s probably adopted him.”
