Authors: Fiona Zedde
Tags: #African American Women, #General, #Romance, #Erotic Fiction, #Adult, #Love Stories, #Fiction, #Lesbian, #Lesbians
A Taste of Sin (11 page)
“Nice jewelry.” Rémi gripped the chain where it caressed Jeanne’s belly, and tugged.
The woman gasped in pain, a thank-you, even as her ass rolled and turned up asking for more.
“I’m going to change your script a little,” Rémi said, meeting Dez’s eyes over the woman’s head. She wanted that ass. Dez nodded and backed up to sit in a nearby armchair, a pretty floral thing that smelled faintly of perfume, and wait. Rémi was running this show.
She kissed Jeanne, sucked her plum purple mouth, and turned the woman’s ass for Dez to admire. When Rémi bent Jeanne just a little, Dez licked her lips at the glistening pink slit and the darker pucker of her asshole that Rémi fingered and teased, her gloves wet with lube.
Her friend worked the woman, caressing and kissing her, tugging on the Y-chain until Jeanne gasped and the tips of her breasts became swollen and distended. Her thighs gleamed wet with cunt juice. Rémi turned her again, and showed the woman’s tits to Dez as she squeezed them from the back, ran her gloved hands down Jeanne’s belly and toward the swollen clit, while Jeanne’s eyelashes beat uncontrollably and her mouth fell open to swallow more air.
Dez eased back in the chair and undid the buttons of her jeans. She slid the pants down and over her ass as she watched, her pussy getting juicier, tightening, anticipating the mouth that would surely lick it wet then dry after all this buildup. Her tits throbbed with a sweet pain under the little tank top.
Rémi spread Jeanne’s legs, pushed her slightly forward toward Dez, as if asking her for a light or something equally incendiary. Her face changed when Rémi started to fuck her. She seemed to stretch, elongating herself to accommodate Rémi’s fingers and her desire, her face becoming taut and hard, needful. Low, long sounds left her mouth. Jeanne leaned forward, bracing herself on Dez’s chair. Rémi slowed the pace of her fucking.
“Make my friend come,” she said. “At least twice. She’s very particular. No hands, and don’t put your tongue in her pussy.” She flicked Jeanne’s clit and the woman jumped, almost falling to her knees in front of Dez. “No matter what, don’t stop. Understand?” When Jeanne nodded, her body quivering and damp with sweat, Rémi reached into her pocket for a pack of dental dams and took one out. “Use this.”
Jeanne reached blindly for Dez’s naked pussy, opening her mouth wide for it despite the awkward angle of the jeans rucked up at her knees. Even through the barrier of the plastic, her tongue was heaven. Heated mouth, the flat of her tongue against Dez’s shaved pussy, hot suction on her clit as Jeanne anchored her hands on her hips, her head bobbing with each yawn and snap of her mouth. Dez loved the hungry noises she made in her throat. They made her pussy feel wanted, made it open up and salivate, eager to be devoured. She pressed Jeanne’s head deeper into her pussy. The thick hair tickled her palms as she guided the skilled mouth to exactly where it needed to be.
Jeanne knew what she was doing. Even with Rémi working her pussy hard from the back, fucking her with a lovely liquid sound, she focused on the task at hand. She damn near swallowed Dez’s clit. The come snuck up her, lifting up her hips and carrying her away on a swift tide of sensation that left her breathless and shaking, but still wanting more.
Beyond the rising peach curve and cleft of the woman’s ass, Rémi fucked her with gloved fingers, plunging in deep with her face a hard mask of concentration and her lips skinned back against her teeth in a feral grin. Her breath whistled with each exhalation. As Dez shuddered in the throes of her first come, Rémi pulled her fingers from the sticky sheath of Jeanne’s pussy and slapped her hard. The woman jumped, bumping her mouth hard against Dez’s clit.
“Shit!” The woman’s muffled cry of surprise sent a jolt of electric heat slamming between Dez’s thighs. She moaned and widened her thighs as far as the jeans would let her.
Rémi slapped her again and again, the sounds thick and hot in the room, mingling with the slurp of Jeanne’s mouth on Dez’s pussy, her groans, and the steady heavy breath whistling through Rémi’s teeth. She slapped her ass cheeks, her thighs, and the tender flesh between them. Jeanne gasped and jerked, eating Dez’s pussy in earnest as the pain spread through her body. Dez knew exactly how she felt, could feel the heat in her own thighs, the sweet clench of her pussy at that twin-edged pain. A fiery wave rolled through her. She threw her head back and held on. This one was going to be good.
Rémi started to fuck their little playmate again. Jeanne’s tongue flew over Dez’s clit, licking the tender bundle of nerves harder and faster. Through the haze of pleasure, Dez looked up at Rémi. Her friend nodded. They pulled off Jeanne’s clamps at the same time. The woman screamed and her knees buckled, but Rémi held her up. Jeanne kept at Dez’s clit, licking and sucking until her wave crested and Dez bucked against Jeanne’s mouth, holding her head steady while her pussy fisted, flooding come against the plastic barrier of the dental dam and on the pretty floral chair.
“Fuck yes!” Dez groaned.
Jeanne’s head hung low as she panted between Dez’s thighs. “Damn.”
They weren’t done yet. At a signal from Rémi, Dez stood up despite her wobbly knees so that her friend could take her place in the chair.
“Now, if memory serves, you mentioned something at the beginning of this evening about my pussy and your mouth.” Rémi tugged down her zipper, showing off her thick, curling bush. “Come. I’m ready.”
Chapter 12
D
ez pressed the doorbell of Victoria Jackson’s teal and white Spanish-style house. Even as she waited for her date to open the door, her mind still lingered on all that had happened at the dinner with Claudia two nights before, replaying each twitch of her mother’s mouth, each shift of eyebrow, trying to decipher what had really happened between them. She sensed that they had come to a resolution of sorts, had acknowledged a mutual desire to reconnect and deal honestly with each other, but that was all. She wanted to sit back with that, content that it was enough. But she couldn’t. Not yet. The door before her opened.
ez pressed the doorbell of Victoria Jackson’s teal and white Spanish-style house. Even as she waited for her date to open the door, her mind still lingered on all that had happened at the dinner with Claudia two nights before, replaying each twitch of her mother’s mouth, each shift of eyebrow, trying to decipher what had really happened between them. She sensed that they had come to a resolution of sorts, had acknowledged a mutual desire to reconnect and deal honestly with each other, but that was all. She wanted to sit back with that, content that it was enough. But she couldn’t. Not yet. The door before her opened.
“Come in.”
Oh.
Dez’s breath caught and released in silent acknowledgment of the woman’s sensual appeal.
That’s why I gave her my card.
Dez’s breath caught and released in silent acknowledgment of the woman’s sensual appeal.
That’s why I gave her my card.
“Thank you.”
As she slipped past her into the house, the scent of tangerines and honey, nestled in the soft places of Victoria’s body, teased her nose.
“These are for you.” She produced her gifts from behind her back—lavender tea roses growing in a small terra-cotta pot and a bottle of red wine. Dez had taken the chance that a woman like Victoria preferred living flowers to the dead things tucked inside pretty plastic and paper. At her wide, full-lipped smile she knew that she’d made the right choice.
“These are gorgeous.” Victoria delicately sniffed at the still-moist roses. “Thank you.”
Aren’t we a polite pair?
“Dinner is almost ready. Let me just take your jacket.” She put the black leather in a little hallway closet then gestured to Dez. “Come.”
Dez followed her past a profusion of vines and blossoming indoor plants. The last rays of the sun slanted through the high windows lining the short hallway and bathing the women in orange and yellow light.
“This is a gorgeous house. Very warm.” Dez looked around, intrigued by the clues to this woman that she saw in her whimsically decorated house. The plants with their richly colored blooms arching up toward the sun from their resting places on the shelves, bookcases, and the tiny iron-worked table. Thickly green vines slipping over walls and windowsills and crawling under light that was everywhere at once. Her towering shelves were neatly stacked with books of all sorts, and everywhere pens and pencils stuck out of odd places—a planter there, between two books, on the kitchen counter. The feeling was of ordered chaos, a vined jungle retreat from the outside world. Only the ever-present light prevented it from being a cave.
In the kitchen, she leaned back against the counter to watch Victoria move around the small, light-filled room.
“I don’t imagine that you invite many strangers here.”
Victoria smiled and looked up from checking the dampness of the soil in her new roses. On the stove, a saucepan simmered on a low gas flame. “I don’t. But you’re not a stranger. You’re Derrick’s sister.” She put the roses aside and rinsed off her hands. “I feel like I’ve been hearing about you for as long as he and I have been friends.”
“Should I be scared?”
“Only if you want to be. It would be interesting to see if all the things he said were true.”
Jesus! Not this shit again
. “That boy doesn’t know me half as well as he thinks.”
. “That boy doesn’t know me half as well as he thinks.”
“Let’s hope that you’re right.” She turned to Dez. “Do you mind helping me set up for dinner?”
“Not at all.”
Victoria opened a cupboard and pointed to a neat row of glassware. “Bring those glasses, will you?”
Dez grabbed two and followed her. They passed through a narrow hallway—also lined with books and flowers—to get to a dining room glowing with light. A very modern chandelier hung from the ceiling, like fat amber teardrops of varying lengths, suspended a few feet above the round dining table set for five.
“Are you expecting more company?” Dez asked as she set the two glasses down neatly to the right of matching dinner plates.
“Yes. A few girlfriends of mine will be joining us.” She slid her a guileless look from beneath her lashes. “Do you mind?”
“If I did it would be irrelevant, wouldn’t it?” Dez made sure to follow up that comment with a smile.
“True.” She smiled again as if Dez had just passed a test.
“They’ll be here in half an hour.”
Dez went to get more glasses. Never one to bullshit around the park, she asked Victoria the burning question as soon as she came back into the dining room. “So why the other women? I thought it would just be you and me.”
“No reason, really. I just thought it would be nice to have some women over for a homemade dinner. Since you’re Derrick’s sister, I hope you and I can be friends.”
“I don’t want to be friends with you, Victoria. I think you know that.”
Victoria’s neck colored in the most charming way. Dez wanted to kiss it, to press her against the cabinet and explore under that teasing floral skirt. But she kept her distance. She leaned back against the cupboard and watched her reach up to a high shelf, showing off the gorgeous curve of belly and breast and throat.
“Then what do you want?”
“Look at me.” She waited until the other woman faced her. “I don’t play games. At least not without the immediate promise of pleasure.” She couldn’t resist. “I want you. If you don’t feel the same I can leave. It’s that simple. You don’t have to bring bodyguards to shield yourself against me. I’ve never taken anything that wasn’t freely given.” She took a breath, watching the soft body next to hers. “So tell me, what is this going to be?”
Victoria laughed nervously. “You are direct, aren’t you?”
“I try to be. Given how I lead my life, it’s the best route.” She noticed Victoria’s movements, the loosening motion of her shoulders as if she were trying to force herself to relax. “You are a dyke, aren’t you?”
This time she smiled, a genuine thing that took Dez’s breath away. “I do partner with women, yes.”
“What, you don’t like that word?”
“Not especially, but it’s not something I’m hung up on either.”
“Hm. But back to the matter at hand.”
Victoria cleared her throat. “I do find you attractive.” Her glance limned briefly over Dez, her splayed legs in loose black jeans and the tight black shirt that stretched across her breasts like bait. “But I’m also being careful. You’re my best friend’s sister. Things could get messy.”
“If you had misgivings, then why did you call?”
That flickering glance again. “The usual reasons.”
Dez chuckled. “I see.” She pushed herself off the counter. “In that case, to prevent any future complications, why don’t we see right now if any of this is worth it?” Four steps took her within a hair’s breadth of Victoria’s mouth. “What do you say?” Her breath teased the wet and parted lips.
“Why not?” Victoria’s voice roughened. “Can’t do any harm, right?”
Up close she smelled like honey. Sweet, sun-warmed, melting-over-the-tongue honey. Dez made a noise of appreciation that became a groan when Victoria settled a warm palm on the small of her back, then another on her hip. Succulent, heavy breasts nestled just below her own.
“Right.” Her mouth was soft. Soft and pliant and yielding and wet. Dez moved her hands in the loose hairs at Victoria’s nape. They tickled her hands, twined around her fingers. Victoria’s tongue sought entry, flicking lightly at the corners of Dez’s mouth, teasing. Then she was inside. She was all sweet and spice, this one, tongue wicked and slow against Dez’s, inciting a riot inside her boxers. She slid a thigh between Victoria’s and cupped her ass, bringing her firmly up against the place that needed it the most. Dez’s hands burrowed under the skirt, up to find a clenching thigh and luxurious bare skin higher up.
Christ!
She didn’t have any panties on. Then the doorbell rang.
Christ!
She didn’t have any panties on. Then the doorbell rang.
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