For a second, I question if I’m ready for this. My brain is finally catching up to my body, and a hint of nerves start to itch at me.
But then she says, “You can say no,” and she leans down to press a kiss to the top of my thigh before peering reassuringly back up at me.
And I know I can. I know she won’t be upset with me if I want to end things here. Even though I haven’t known her long at all, I know she isn’t ever going to pressure me.
It’s probably crazy how comfortable I already feel with her.
I don’t want to say no. So I nod, give her a shy smile, and say, “Yes. Please.”
She grins at me like I’ve offered her a million dollars rather than the permission to undress me. Her eyes stay locked with mine as she slides the soft material of the dress over my hips and up the rest of my body, and I’m not sure if I remember how to breathe. When she has to break eye contact so she can pull it over my head, I focus on taking a deep breath, then let it out slowly.
I’m not wearing a bra, which leaves me lying under her now in only ablue cotton thong. Her eyes rake over my body, and before I have time to feel self-conscious, she lets out a whispered, “Fuuuck.”
I don’t know what to say, so I reach for her and pull her back down to kiss me some more. As we make out, her fingertips skim down my stomach until they’re resting over my underwear. I thrust my hips up a little, and she bites my lip as she slides her hand farther down.
She’s rubbing her fingers over me now, and even with my underwear as a barrier, it feels amazing. I grab at her anywhere I can, needing to keep my hands on her to ground myself as I feel like I might float off the bed.
Keeping up the pressure of her hand, she drags her mouth from mine to kiss over the tops of my breasts. She uses her other hand to massage one as she grazes her teeth over my nipple. I gasp when she gently bites down on it, my hand tightening in her hair.
The heat builds and builds while she toys with me, sucking at my nipple and tracing firm circles over my clit. I’m being too loud now, but I only have half a second to spare thinking about the other guests, because then she tugs my underwear down my thighs and sucks two fingers into her mouth, wetting them before she brings them back down between my legs.
“Oh my god,yes,” I whine out.
I can’t remember the last time someone made me come with only their fingers. Fuck, has anyone ever?
But I know it’s about to happen now. The orgasm building in me is like a train picking up speed as it steamrolls forward. I couldn’t stop it even if I wanted to.
“I—I’m—”
“You’re gorgeous,” Addison says, her fingers still confidently working magic on me. “And you’re funny, and you’re sweet, and you’re talented. Can’t believe I’m lucky enough to have you like this.”
One of my hands has found its way under her shirt, and I scratch down her lower back, not knowing what else to do with myself as her words push me over the edge as effectively as her fingers.
I moan and shake and fall apart underneath her. And when I’m finished, her fingers ease up, but she continues touching me lightly as I regain control of my breathing.
When I become too sensitive, I reach down and nudge her hand away. And then we’re just lying here, looking at each other. The smile she gives me feels a bit teasing, but not in a bad way. She’s proud of herself. And she has every right to be.
Holy shit. Did that really happen?
When I invited her up here, I didn’t know what to expect. Honestly, I only knew I wanted to kiss her, and I knew we needed privacy to do that.
Does this count as having sex?
I feel silly, not entirely understanding how things work between two women. Hell, she didn’t even finger me. With a guy, I wouldn’t consider it sex. But then again, with a guy, I doubt I would’ve gotten off from it.
It was probably all the anticipation that did it. The buildup, the burning desire this woman ignites in me. The feeling of being set free.
As she runs her hand up and down my side, I decide it doesn’t matter what we call this. I had an orgasm with a woman—withthiswoman—and it was freaking incredible. I can’t even imagine how good it will be if we do something more.
Suddenly, it hits me thatwedidn’t do anything. She did it. She touched me and she made me come. I didn’t do anything for her.
Oh, wow, I’m an asshole. I need to do something for her too. Iwantto do something for her. I want to touch her, and explore, and hopefully make her feel half as good as she made me feel.
“I—”
I don’t know how to say any of this without sounding stupid. I don’t know the etiquette here. I’m not sure I’ve ever been in this situation with a man, because I don’t think a man has ever gotten me off without automatically expecting something in return.
And okay, that’s sort of depressing.
