Indelible (11 page)

Perez and Tori were already sprawled on the couch, so Luna sat at the table instead. She had a cup of coffee from earlier and automatically took a sip. It was room temperature and tasted like old socks. She set the drink on the table and waited for Angie to return.

“Do you have plans on Labor Day?” Tori was playing with Perez’s hair, and Luna felt like a voyeur. “Noonish?”

“What’s going on?” Perez slid a little closer, her hand moving to Tori’s thigh.

Luna stood. She couldn’t sit and watch them, but Tori’s next words piqued her interest. “There’s a barbecue at Angie’s house. I want you to come.”

The rest of their words faded away. Maybe that’s why Angie had dropped by, to invite Luna to her family get-together. The holiday was several weeks away, but the possibilities excited Luna.

Luna switched off the neon
Open
sign and threw the bolt on the door. She was on autopilot, focused more on thoughts of Angie in shorts and a spaghetti-strap tank top sipping iced tea and eating a burger than on closing her shop for the night. Luna took the money from the cash box and locked it in the safe. She’d worry about the paperwork tomorrow when Angie wasn’t there.

“We’re getting out of here.” Perez had her arm possessively around Tori’s waist, her fingers hooked in the top of her jeans.

“You can make it home without me, right, Angie?” Tori asked. Angie had returned without Luna realizing.

She smiled at Luna. “I’ll be just fine.”

They left and Luna locked the door behind them. When she turned around, Angie was standing very close. She tilted her head up, and her eyes fluttered shut. It was a classic kiss-me pose and Luna’s head swam again. What was it about this woman that affected her so thoroughly?

Angie’s lips parted and her tongue darted out briefly. The shining wetness lured Luna closer, ever closer, until her mouth was against Angie’s, just the whisper of their lips touching. She could feel Angie’s breath against her skin more firmly than the pressure of her lips.

“I missed you.” Angie whimpered and pulled Luna closer, her fingers threading through the short hair at the base of Luna’s neck. Their lips pressed together fully and Luna smoothed her tongue between Angie’s teeth. She needed to taste…everything. Angie was a delicacy that Luna intended to savor.

Before Luna was ready, Angie withdrew. She stood, forehead against Angie’s, watching her, memorizing the details. Angie wore a lazy half smile, her lips swollen and glistening. Her eyes were closed, and her breath puffed on Luna’s skin, erratic and warm. Her fingers played through Luna’s hair, tugging and pulling, alternating between soft caress and stinging tug.

It was perfect.

“Upstairs.” Angie nipped at Luna’s bottom lip. “Now.”

Uncomfortable in the role of aggressor, but desperate for
something
to happen, Angie sucked on Luna’s cherry-red lip—swollen from Angie’s lack of patience—and soothed it with her tongue. If Luna didn’t lead her up those steps soon, Angie would strip her bare and splay her against the plate-glass window for the greater Portland area to see. It’d been too long and she was done waiting.

She worked Luna’s shirt loose and rested her hands on her waist, relishing the electric charge when she touched Luna’s naked skin. The shock roused Luna and she backed slowly toward the stairs, stumbling when her heels hit the bottom step.

Luna groaned and pulled Angie’s hands away. “You have to stop touching me if you want to make it to my bed.”

Angie struggled out of Luna’s grip, unwilling to suffer even a moment without feeling Luna’s smooth body. The loss was too sharp. “Who said anything about a bed?” Angie popped open the pearl snaps that stood between her and more of that searing flesh. Luna stood on the step above her, a goddess in the halo of light from the room above. Angie covered her abdomen in wet, open-mouthed kisses, teasing the tense muscles with sharp little nips as she slid the shirt from her shoulders. “I just want you naked and beneath me.”

She nudged Luna’s legs apart and forced herself onto the same step. Luna struggled to stay upright, then fell back, landing on the stairs behind her with an
oompf
. Luna’s eyes were round and Angie loved the control she surrendered to her with that look. Angie draped herself over Luna, driving her thigh between her legs. Luna shivered and pulled Angie to her, her mouth hot and demanding against Angie’s throat.

Luna’s teeth scraped against her pulse point, then she sucked hard enough that Angie knew she’d need a turtleneck the next day. Her stomach clenched and the thrill tumbled in a hot wave through her body. “Oh, God.” Angie should have known that Luna wouldn’t let their relative positions force her into a passive role. She was the kind of woman who could top from the bottom.

Every pent-up frustration. Every tightly controlled emotion. Every time she’d said no when she really wanted to say yes. Angie let it all go as Luna thrust her hips upward, causing the thick denim seam of her jeans to scrape roughly across her clit. Her body quaked and her eyes rolled back into her head.

“No!” Luna growled, and flipped Angie over, her back hitting the rigid rise of the stairs hard enough to leave a bruise. “You do
not
get to come before I even touch you.”

Luna stripped Angie’s shirt and bra before she had a chance to fully recover her breath, her fingers frantic and greedy. She palmed Angie’s breasts, alternating between rough kneading and gentle caresses. Angie gripped Luna, her hands wrapped around her wrists, torn between guiding her lower and holding her hands to her chest. “More.”

Luna rolled her nipples—thick and erect—squeezing them between her thumbs and forefingers. A jolt shot from Angie’s nipples to her clit and she bucked her hips. Just a little more. She was oh-my-God close.

The touch ended as it started, without warning and before Angie was prepared for it. Luna stood, running her hands over Angie’s body in a fleeting caress as she pulled away. She stared at Angie, her eyes heavy and dark, her chest heaving as she removed her own bra, followed by her other clothing. Naked, Luna stood before her. No other tattoos, Angie thought absently as Luna bent over her.

“This isn’t how I wanted to do this.” Luna held herself just out of Angie’s reach as she undid the snap and zipper on Angie’s jeans. She tugged them off, but avoided touching Angie’s skin—a touch Angie desperately craved. “I would have taken you in my bed, with candles lit, soft music playing.”

“You can still do that.” Angie sat up, reaching for Luna. She was throbbing for release, and however Luna wanted to do this was fine so long as she did it
now
.

Luna caught Angie’s hands and brought them together. Holding them tight in one hand, she stretched them over Angie’s head, still keeping herself close enough to
feel,
but not close enough to touch. She straddled Angie’s body, forcing her prone with her weight.

The sensation of full-body skin-on-skin contact, combined with the wet slick of Luna open and ready against her abdomen and the sound of her voice saying deliciously naughty things in her ear, stole Angie’s focus. Black dots crept into the periphery of her vision as she arched into Luna, prolonging their contact.

“I would have fucked you hard wearing a strap-on cock.” Luna left a hot trail of arousal over Angie’s stomach. It matched the fire burning its way through Angie’s belly to her clenching vaginal walls. “But only after I’d made you come with my tongue and sucked every last drop of excitement from you.”

“God,” Angie gasped. The throbbing crested, nearing full crescendo.

Luna raised up, moving between Angie’s thighs and forcing them wide. “Bend your knees for me, baby,” she urged, her voice a soft counterpoint to the porn-like narrative she’d been engaged in. Angie complied and Luna went back to her low, rough monologue. She shifted her hold on Angie’s hands, strengthening her grip as she used that arm to keep her weight suspended over Angie. “But you wanted to do this here.” She worked her other hand down, down, down between their bodies, staring hard into Angie’s eyes. One finger gently nudged Angie’s clit, a fleeting touch, and Angie twitched and thrust wildly. God, she wanted those fingers on her. In her.

The fingers—Luna’s godlike, heavenly fingers—returned, stretching her lips wide, leaving her clit exposed and vulnerable. The cool air prickled against the sensitive skin for a second, then Luna was against her, their clits burning together in a soaring, wet symphony.

Luna trembled above her, her eyes holding Angie’s for a moment, then slammed shut as they ground their hips together.

Tension pooled in her belly, gripping and building as she thrust against Luna, lost to everything but the slick glide of Luna’s clit against her. Luna released her hands and gripped the stair on either side of Angie’s head, pulling sharply on Angie’s hair. With her hands finally free, Angie scratched lines across Luna’s ass, clenching and releasing only to repeat the desperate grasp with every roll of Luna’s hips. She forced Luna against her in a frenetic, escalating rhythm.

Luna grunted. “God, you feel so
fucking
good.” She snapped her hips hard against Angie and moaned loud and long, her body shuddering and arching.

All the coiling tension in Angie’s body drew tighter, then sprang apart, shattering her from the inside out. She pulled Luna to her, wrapping her legs and arms around her, desperate for the solid weight of her body to keep her from coming completely undone. Luna’s mouth covered hers, her tongue thick and invading, swallowing Angie’s voice as she climaxed.

They lay together, gasping and sweat-covered. Luna smoothed Angie’s hair and kissed her softly, licking along her bottom lip. “I think I like your way of doing this better.”

Angie tried to sit up, only to flop back, her muscles limp. “I don’t think I can move.”

Luna pulled her closer. “I’m just fine right here.”

“For now.” Angie brushed a chaste kiss on Luna’s forehead, eyes, and finally her lips. “Eventually, though, you have to make good on your promises.”

“Definitely.”

Tomorrow Angie would be sore, bruised, and in desperate need of a hot bath. Tonight, however, she was grateful for a few stolen minutes when she could forget about being the perfect mom and focus on just feeling good.

She sighed. Just like that, one fleeting thought about Oliver, and the moment was over. Angie needed to get home. She forced herself into a sitting position, and her body protested loudly.

“What’s wrong?” Luna squeezed her shoulder.

“I need to go.” She pulled on her clothes and flipped her hair out of her collar. It was a total wreck.

“Stay with me?” Luna’s eyes said so much more about wanting to hold her than those three words.

“I can’t.” Angie found her shoes and put them on, wanting to explain about her son, about how he would never know if she spent the night away, not if she got home early enough, but
she
would know. That was enough to get her on her feet and walking out the door. “Oliver.”

Luna nodded and escorted her to the door, slipping on her shirt and pants as she walked. “I can give you a ride.”

“No, that’s okay.” Tonight, more than any other, Angie needed the time to cool off before she arrived home. “I’ll walk.”

“When can I see you again?” Luna asked as she held the door open.

“I don’t know.” Angie kissed Luna one last time, the earlier heat missing from her awkward, shuffling good-bye on her way out the door. “I’ll call you.”

Angie walked away feeling like a grade-A jerk. Instead of saying, “Yes, I’d love to see you again,” she’d turned an erotic, fun encounter into a booty call.

Jerk.

Monday, August 31

Angie moved her blue game token forward two spaces and took another card. She needed a twelve to win the game. She drew Sorry—a great card if you were still at the beginning of the game, but with three game pieces already home and the fourth solidly on its way, the game’s namesake card was simply annoying. She groaned. “Your turn, Oli.”

She loved nights like this, when she didn’t work and Oliver was in the mood to indulge her love of board games, especially Sorry. Lately he’d claimed it was for babies. She’d tried logic, pointing out that she loved it and she was too old to be a baby. He was not convinced.

Oliver drew an eleven and laughed maniacally. He split the count between two game pieces, knocking one of Jack’s pieces, as well as Angie’s remaining piece, back to Start. Murphy’s Law told Angie she wouldn’t draw another Sorry card until the game was over. She groaned again.

“Why did I agree to play this with you?” she asked Oliver as Jack completed his move.

“It was your idea.” Oliver gave her a toothy smile, far too happy to be defeating them. He took a bite of his pizza and gestured for her to go.

“What’s your rush?” Angie postponed the inevitably wasted move. She hated having her only player sitting at Start. It was like the penalty box of Sorry.

“Just draw your card.” Jack had three men still at home, with no reprieve in sight. Losing made him grumpy.

Angie drew a twelve and discarded it, disgusted with the irony.

Oliver won on the next move and Jack conceded. Just as well. Angie had no enthusiasm for competing for second place. It seemed a silly standard to strive for.