I Kissed a Girl Ch. 11

"The feeling's mutual, sweetheart." I kissed her nose, smiling. Closed my eyes when her hand trailed over my hip. My very sensitive left hip. I flinched and settled my weight down on her. "It's my turn now."

She blinked slowly at me, nodded, and laid her hands above her head.

I leaned down and kissed her softly. Nipped then licked her lower lip. Repeated that a couple of times, loving how I could make her hiss and moan. I sat back on my heels, running my fingertips down the sides of her neck. Down her arms. My thumbs reaching out to graze her breasts on the way. Continuing down to her waist then back up. Reveling in her quickening breaths.

"Such a beautiful tease," she whispered with a little shake in her voice.

I grinned and scooted back between her spread legs. Keeping my eyes on hers—which had started to drift close—I leaned down to kiss her stomach. Along her waist. Then I ran the tip of my tongue along the same path. Circled her belly button. I trailed more kisses around that gentle dip and moved over to her left hip...back to her right. Felt her body trembling beneath my mouth the whole time.

Joanie's hands rested beside her head on my pillow, the fingers on her left hand slowly rubbing together. The stark white of the linens were in deep contrast to her black hair. Her beautiful eyes had glazed over. And the creaminess of her skin was tinged red at her cheeks, neck, and chest from our impassioned tussling.

My hair fell across her hips when I ran my tongue up and down her sides from hip to tit. Her skin was so soft, and her gasps and squirms made me moan deeply. But I could no longer resist the jewel-tipped peaks I'd been eyeing since I'd first revealed them over an hour ago. The moment I sampled them? Oh. My. God.

Her breasts tasted heavenly—clean and warm—when I ran my tongue all over them. Caressing one swollen mound while I gently nipped and sucked at the underside of the other. Alternating. Repeating. I couldn't get enough.

One of her hands tentatively touched my head. Stroked my hair.

I moaned again at her encouragement. Growled when I sucked her left nipple between my teeth and she hissed, her hand tightening in my hair. I'd not expected that to feel so good when she'd done it earlier. I almost expected her to pull my head back now. When she didn't, I sucked harder...flicked my tongue at her supple peak. Rolled it back and forth.

The right side took more time as I had to coax her nipple to pop back out again. It was a challenge I was more than happy to take on. And she seemed to thoroughly enjoy it, as well, by her ever-increasing sounds and her fingers flexing against my scalp.

I could have continued worshiping her breasts for hours. I knew I probably would later. But right now? I wanted—no, I needed—to taste her spicy nectar that I could smell drifting up from her parted thighs. I'd been tempted to press my knee against her, but I'd not wanted her humping me while I paid homage to the beautiful swells I'd been dreaming about for almost a year.

Now, it was time to bring her more pleasure. Like she had given me. Four times over.

Joanie groaned when I abandoned her breasts. She seemed to know, though, that it was for a good cause because she let out a soft coo when I scooted further back.

Once more, a feeling of entering dark territory drifted over me. Doubt entered my mind that I'd be able to thoroughly show her everything I'd left pent up inside of me all these months. So much so that tension gripped my shoulders when I settled them between her knees.

I bent to get my first up-close-and-personal smell, taking a deep breath. That was all at first. Baby steps. I wanted to draw this out. But she jerked and gasped as though I'd licked her. Another sniff had the same reaction from her. Then I realized my nose had brushed her mound each time.

Interesting. She had a sensitive pussy.

Grinning, I repeated the motion. This time, I intentionally rubbed the tip of my nose against her soft folds over her clit.

Her hips jerked up into my face with her loud "Shit!"

My face was going to be sore later from all my smiling. But it would be worth it.

I waited until she had set her ass on the bed again before lying the flat of my tongue along her folds. When she rose up with another cry, I pressed with my tongue, parting her. That earned me a "Fuck!"

A combination of her movements and sounds and my own burning desire catapulted me from slow torture to diving in like a starving woman at a buffet. The trigger had been the taste of her on the tip of my tongue. Spicy and thick, I'd gathered just enough of her essence and swallowed. Apparently, feeding the beast inside.

Time disappeared. There was only the soft skin of her mound and thighs under my fingertips. Her folds and clit under my tongue. Her scent and taste filling my head...driving me on. Her hands in my hair guiding me. Her body rippling from her first orgasm.

Through the haze of lust blurring all other thoughts, I heard her ask me to suck on her clit. I obliged, to which she growled. I nibbled on the mixed hardness and softness of that button, tasting more of her honey whenever I swallowed. That made her shake harder beneath me. But she jerked up and down when I used my tongue and my teeth at the same time. She was apparently as sensitive there as she'd been with me brushing her mound. It only spurred me on.

"Mer...Mer...," she kept mumbling when she wasn't moaning or accentuating the air with sharp cries.

A quick glance up showed her head rolling from side to side. Her eyes tightly closed. Her hands clenched, as well.

I released her—earning me a deep growl—and used my fingers to part her feathery-soft folds. Then I waited, just watching her face. Breathed on her but didn't otherwise touch her.

Slowly, her eyes began to open. Her gaze seemed to lock with mine.

I flicked the tip of my tongue up and down over her ridged ring.

"Fuck! Fuck!" Her whole body arched, merely giving me more access. Which resulted in more cussing from her. More shaking. All interspersed with lip licking and heavy panting...from us both. "Whatever you're doing...don't stop!"

Not one to disappoint, I moaned against her skin and continued.

A new sound reached my ears the longer I teased her: whimpering. Then scratching. The latter I saw was from her clawing and gripping at my headboard. Not long after, she shook. Hard. I tasted cream on my tongue. I stroked my thumbs over her bared pussy...her clit. Continuing the torture her while she cried out my name.

Her thighs were still trembling against my head when I eased my right middle finger up into her wet channel, whimpering myself from her heat. Her internal spasms made it a little difficult to stroke in and out. I paused only to slide two fingers into her as her cream increased. Then I curled the tips up. Gathered her clit between my teeth.

Joanie fell into another spiral of slurred vulgarity that was music to my ears.

I continued to stroke, ceasing to suck so I could softly encourage her. "That's it, sweetheart. Doesn't that feel good? You look so beautiful. You're so fucking tight."

Together, we rode out her longest orgasm yet, making us even.

Her body was still shaking when I pulled my hand free and crawled up beside her. Her eyes were open and staring at the ceiling. But they shifted, focusing on mine when I slid my fingers—one at a time—into my mouth and licked them clean. Her tongue darted out, her eyes shifting downward.

Understanding, I pressed my lips to hers. Buried my fingers in her hair and tipped her head back. We continued to kiss absently until she trembled again. Then I tucked her head under my chin and just held her, stroking her back. Trying to ignore the goosebumps on my arms when her shuddering breaths tickled my shoulder.

I knew the moment she'd returned to me when her arms slid around my waist. "Welcome back, sweetheart."

Warmth from her deep sigh caressed my skin. Then she lifted her head. "That was amazing."

"Mmm hmm." I kissed her forehead. "I'm glad you enjoyed it. I sure did."

"No one has gone down on me in years." Her eyes clouded over, her lower lip quivering.

I raised my eyebrows. "Not even—"

"She was very...particular. Preferred fingers only. Though she insisted I be shaved." Joanie bit her lip, closing her eyes.

"So you didn't go down on her, either?"

She shook her head.

I kissed her softly, still flabbergasted. All I could keep saying was, "I'm so sorry, sweetheart."

Joanie wrapped her thigh over my hip, drawing us closer together. "Thank you, Mer. For everything."

###

For the first time, I wished I could take the entire summer off. Joanie spent the weekend with me after our first night together. Moved in officially the following week. I took that two-week vacation, but we rarely left the loft.

We were in love. Catching up on lost time. It was always amazing, whether we were in bed, the shower, against the wall, or on the kitchen island. We couldn't get enough...touching and kissing and finding new spots that made each other melt.

But it was more than just the sex. We had conversations...some deep, others nonsensical, all meaningful. Passed time just staring into each other's eyes. Luxuriated in falling asleep with our bodies intertwined. Cuddling while watching TV. Cooking meals together. Being domesticated.

Getting up that first morning back to work was the hardest thing I had to do since telling her to go honor her family.

Joanie was still asleep, lying on her stomach with her head turned away from me on the pillow. Her hair was slightly messy. Perfect. One hand was up by her head, the other relaxed by her side. The sheets were mostly crumpled around her, revealing her bare back and one knee sticking out...the tip of the Yin and Yang on her right butt cheek barely visible.

I rubbed my hands up and down my arms, remembering when I'd seen the tattoo for the first time.

It had been later that night after we'd first had sex. We'd been lying with our limbs loosely entangled when she said she had to pee. I'd been entranced by her bare ass as she scurried away, the popular black-and-white swirl not registering right away. When it had, she'd already closed the bathroom door partly, blocking my line of sight.

She'd come back to find me sitting upright, shock still plastered on my face. She'd asked if I was all right. Sat beside me and wrapped me in her arms, rocking me. Telling me to talk to her when I was ready.

Somehow, I managed to voice the question constantly running through my head: Why hadn't she said anything all night about the tattoo? She'd seen my backside hours earlier. My own ink. The polar opposite of hers.

On my upper-left ass cheek was the same symbol except with the colors and swirls reversed. I'd tried to explain that I had gotten mine that way because it was a reminder that I wasn't like everyone expected me to be. I was a non-conformist.

Joanie had just hugged me tighter and whispered that she had been waiting for the right moment to talk about it. The sight of seeing my tattoo had floored her as much as hers had me. She'd just hidden her surprise better. Her tattoo was more recent...acquired when she'd gone back to Italy as a constant reminder of the connection she'd felt with me: me being the light to her darkness.

We shared a spooked look when she told me her turtles were named after the symbol...and I said we once had two bearded dragons with the same names. Then we had a good laugh over the bizarreness of the situation.

I'd found her tattoo was one of her sensitive spots, especially if I ran my tongue over it. It had been fun to tease her while we talked about getting matching tattoos on our other ass cheeks. A set of turtles to represent us, the perfect pair: hard on the outside but soft inside. She'd suddenly flipped me onto my stomach and laid her body over mine, tickling me until I cried for mercy...then stroking her fingers inside me from behind while I begged to come.

Now, as I stared at her naked body in my bed, I didn't want to leave her. Ever.

It suddenly felt like the party had ended. We'd been playing house, and now we had to be adults. At least I did.

I kissed her shoulder, took a shower, got dressed, and grabbed some breakfast before heading out.

The hours drug on. I kept imaging Joanie sleeping. Moaning while we made out...had sex. Her making me moan. At quitting time, I rushed home to find her waiting with arms wide open. Eager to get me out of my clothes. We made it as far as the couch.

I knew it would get easier as the days passed. I kept reminding myself that she was here now. She said she wasn't going anywhere.

But something still niggled at the back of my mind that we were trying to make the fairytale come true, and that just wasn't how it worked.

The magic had to run out eventually.

###

Really? I stared at my work calendar on the computer screen. Scrolled backwards. Counted forwards. Blinked and shook my head.

Sure enough. Joanie and I had been living together for three months now.

It had been almost that long since she'd gotten a job as a financial planner at a local investment agency, too. We'd easily settled into a routine. Thankfully, our schedules matched up, which always allowed us to eat dinner together. Sometimes, we were able to make lunch plans, too.

We'd agreed we weren't really into the club scene. Evenings and weekends had been spent attending cultural events in Northampton and the surrounding areas. Museums. Live theatre. Other scenic attractions. If we were out at night, it was dinner and cocktails or to see a local band. Several of those occasions had been spent with our friends or coworkers. We had a nightlife, it just wasn't the constant party scene of the younger generations.

Twice, one of Joanie's old school friends—Julian—was in town for a weekend and joined our soiree. He was an emerging artist who took beautiful, poignant photographs of urban people and places. He'd said growing up in the projects had taught him to appreciate the art around him while others thought it looked old and worthless. And he, being gay himself, had been Joanie's only confidant when she'd struggled with her sexuality throughout her adolescence. After she came out in college at Amherst, he'd taken it upon himself to also be her stylist, helping her choose an image and wardrobe she was most comfortable with. I had him to thank for her penchant of fitted suits.

He was actually the reason I'd been looking at my calendar before I'd noticed the date and gotten sidetracked. Joanie had texted to see what my afternoon was like. Julian was having a little VIP get-together before his gallery showing in Holyoke tonight, and Joanie wanted to make sure we were available to attend. We had already planned to go to the showing—and buy a print for the loft—but I'd have to leave work early to go home and change in order to make the VIP party. Thankfully, it was Friday and a slow day.

I clocked out at three-thirty and made it home in plenty of time to shower and pull on the green A-line dress Joanie had found on our excursion to a vintage shop last week. She'd said it complimented my hair perfectly. I'd thought it matched her eyes better and told her I'd love to see her try it on. I'd gotten a sideways glare with a smirk as a result.

That was the only downside to her preference of wearing pants: we couldn't share girly clothes. Now that we were together outside of the office, I got to see what she chose for everyday wear. Maybe I was being stereotypical of her being a soft-butch lesbian, but I wasn't surprised to see that it was usually khakis, a tucked-in chambray shirt, and Doc Martens. I wasn't complaining. She had a fine ass and long legs, so whatever she wore looked amazing on her. Including her new hairstyle where she buzzed the sides and wore it longer on top.

But I'd been surprised by the hat she'd been wearing ever since our first date. The accessory was perfect with her haircut and the lines of her face. It just wasn't something I'd gotten the impression she liked after seeing her almost every day for six months last year. Her explanation had been even less expected but very touching: it had belonged to her grandfather. Her grandmother had given it to him on his first day at the family business, and he'd worn it every day to work for fifty-four years. He'd given it to Joanie as a parting gift, a thank-you for honoring him. She now wore it to work—and everywhere else she could—as a reminder of his dedication...affection. Plus, she thought she looked fucking sexy wearing it. I had to agree.

Tonight, she'd chosen a dark gray suit with a lighter gray dress shirt. I smiled when she walked up to me while straightening a green tie that matched my dress. I gripped the tails, pulled her to me for a quick kiss, and then went back to applying my makeup. In the mirror, I caught her smirk and shake of her head while she fixed her tie again. Then I was smirking—licking my lips—when she set her now-signature black fedora on her head and adjusted it just right.

The VIP party was just getting started when we arrived. We exchanged hugs with Julian. Teased him about all the art lights that would be shining off his bald head. Then he put an arm around each of our shoulders and proceeded to parade us around, introducing us to all of his friends and family as though we all came together as a package—the most sophisticated-looking inverse Oreo. I won't deny that I was glad when we were finally released to retrieve a cocktail and snag some of the horderves in the small reception area of the gallery.

Once the show was in full swing, Joanie and I wandered around arm in arm. Chatted with other guests. Perused the various enlarged photographs. Tried to decide which to buy for the wall above the couch.

Joanie liked a landscape of an iron framework situated next to train tracks. It may have been a building at one time, but all that was left now were an odd ratio of vertical-to-horizontal rusted, red beams. Wild plants wound and draped the structure in a canopy of green, allowing the sun to peek through in places between clusters of leaves.

I was partial to a smaller black-and-white print of a stone bridge over a sparkling river with wildflowers lining the banks on either side.

We compromised and decided to get both, the bridge print to go above our bed.

I offered to go make the sale when one of her friends stepped up to talk by the ironwork piece. There was someone else ahead of me already talking to the gallery owner, so I had to wait my turn. Transaction finally completed, I was on my way back to my girlfriend when I heard a distinctive voice say she forgave someone else.

"Why are you here, Davina?" Joanie asked, confusion evident in her voice.

I froze next to the brick pillar separating me from the two women and our latest living room decoration, clutching my purse tighter to my chest.

"I am a lover of all art, not just fashion. You know that." There was a pause, during which Joanie probably rolled her eyes. I know I did. Then Davina continued, "I've missed you, Joanie. I've been reconsidering everything that happened. And I am willing to take you back."

"That's not how it works, Davina," Joanie scoffed. I could picture her shaking her head now. "It doesn't matter, anyway. I'm with Meredith. Happily."

Davina scoffed this time. "Mered— Wait, your old boss? The redheaded bitch? Ha!"

I scowled at the jab.

"Yes, my old boss," Joanie answered with a slight growl. "Do you have a problem with that?"

"Hmm. And are you in love with this Meredith?"

I held my breath, something in my brain shouting that it had all been too good to be true with Joanie. That this was the moment I'd been dreading. Even though I didn't want to believe it, I still needed to know. To hear her say it.