The words have been said, but not like this. Not with so much vulnerability and truth. I sit up a little and meet her gaze. I could lose myself in her dark-brown eyes, so wide and expressive. Right now, she’s telling me she’s here with me, feeling the exact same combination of love, lust, and regret for opportunities passed by. I swallow hard. “I love you, too. So fucking much. I’ve failed—”
She presses a finger to my lips. “No. We’re not doing this in a dramatic and doomed way. This isn’t the one and only time we’ll be together, Hecate. This is the first step toward a real future together.”
With Circe?I don’t have the cruelty to ask. Not now, not when this is just about the two of us. We’ll have to discuss Circe at some point—and soon—but now isn’t the time. Just like we’re not going to discuss the plan I’m putting together, piece by piece.
She bends up, causing me to slide against her stomach in a way that makes my toes curl a little, and takes my mouth. This time, there’s no slow exploration. This is a decade’s worth of pent-up desire, cascading between us in an unstoppable force. What’s left of my restraint snaps.
I grind against her stomach. I’m so wet, I might be embarrassed if I was a different person. I’m not. I’m exhilarated. I want her so desperately. Ineedher. She clearly feels the same because she grips me at the top of my thighs, shifting me higher yet. Atalanta squeezes my ass, parting me in a way that feels depraved despite this being the barest edge of foreplay. But it’sher.
“Hecate,” she gasps, and then her fingers are sliding into me, firm and blunt and agonizingly good. Atalanta actually whimpers atthe feel ofmeand I almost come on the spot. “Gods, you’re perfect.”
“Not me. You.” I drag my mouth down her throat, finding the spot where her neck meets shoulder and sucking lightly. It makes her moan, so I keep doing it.
“Woman, stop distracting me,” she mutters. She hooks an arm around my waist and pulls me up until I’m damn near straddling her chest. It gives her full access to my body, which was clearly the goal. She delves two fingers deeper into my pussy, sliding slowly in and out, exploring me while she searches for…there. My G-spot.
Every muscle goes slack and tight at the same time. I grind down onto her fingers mindlessly, whimpers slipping free of my lips as if coming from someone else entirely. Sometimes desperate and needy and not at all in control. Maybe it is me, after all.
Atalanta takes advantage of my overwhelming pleasure by capturing my right nipple in her mouth. She sets her teeth against me, exerting the slightest pressure, the slightest pain, and I swear I gush all over her hand. She chuckles darkly. “Give it to me, Hecate.”
It’s too fast, too intense. I can’t think, can’t slow down, can’t relish this the way I planned. I open my mouth to say something clever, maybe to suggest…something. But then she switches to my left nipple and adjusts the angle of her fingers inside me, and the only thing I’m capable of doing is clinging to her and coming all over her hand.
And she doesn’t stop. She just rolls us so my back is the couch and keeps slowly fucking me, adding her thumb into the mix so every stroke glides over my clit. Holyfuck. I squirm, but even I can’t tell if I’m trying to get away or drive her fingers deeper. “I want tomake you feel good,” I finally gasp.
“You are.” She kisses me even as she winds me up again with her expert touch. I’ve had so many lovers over the years, some who meant a lot to me and others who simply shared the need to fulfill our mutual desire. I haven’t loved any of them, not in the way I love Atalanta.
And Circe, my mind whispers.
My orgasm drowns out the little voice. I come so hard my toes curl, and I can do nothing but tense as I squirt all over Atalanta. This time, she eases up a little in the aftermath. She presses her hand to my pussy, cupping me possessively as she nuzzles my breasts, kissing gently along their curves. “I’ve been waiting for this for so long,” she murmurs against my chest. “You have another few in you.”
I do. I really, really do. Even though I’m so sensitive that I might lose my mind if she touches my clit properly right now, desire is still curling through me, demanding more. What I want even more, though, is to taste her. “You first.”
“Hecate.”
“Mmm, can’t hear you. Too busy thinking about your pussy.” I wriggle out of her arms and down her body. There really isn’t enough room on the couch, so I slide down to the floor on my knees. “Come here.”
“Stubborn ass.”
“If you want me to eat your ass, all you have to do is ask.”
She sits up and blinks at me, and then blinks again. “I’m still not used to this side of you.”
It hurts a little, but it’s nothing except the truth. “I know.” I slide my hands up her muscled thighs, lingering briefly on her manyscars. She had a lot when we met, but she’s gained so many in the intervening years. I want to hunt down every single person who hurt her and put them in the ground, but Atalanta is no wilting flower. She’s eliminated most of her enemies.
Paris is still among the living, but I fully intend to deal with that little monster in my free time; assuming I live long enough togetfree time.
None of that matters now, not when I register the fact she’s wearing my panties. The fabric is stretched tight across her hips, and I can clearly see her slit. They’re alsosoaked. I press my face to her pussy and inhale deeply.
Atalanta gives a sound that’s nearly a squeal. “What are you doing?”
“You smell so fucking good.” I love inspiring that sound from her, so unlike the restrained woman I’m familiar with. It’s an intimacy, her letting me in even further. So I do it again, smiling when she squirms.
“Hecate—” Whatever she was about to say morphs into a moan when I tug the panties to the side and drag my tongue through her folds.
Her taste on my tongue is divine, more than worth waiting a decade to experience. But if I’ve allowed her to drive the frenzy up to this point, I’m not going to give into it now. Atalanta deserves to be cherished, and I’m going to cherish her right into the orgasm of her life.
But first, the panties need to be gone. I reluctantly back up enough to slide them down her legs, and then I’m back, pushing her thighs wide and earning another squeal. I don’t know what it is about this that’s turning her into an entirely new version of herself,but I love this side of her just as much as her other facets.
I part her folds and allow myself half a second to soak up the sight of her, spread out for my need, looking a little shell-shocked, wearingmyshirt. I stroke her gently with my thumbs. “Let me see you.”
