No Strings Attached (The Pink Bean Series Book 1) (12 page)

“Your place or mine?” Micky asked when they reached the outskirts of Darlinghurst. She was so wrapped up in images of her and Robin, brimming with lust and unbridled desire—a state so intoxicating, she should decidedly not be driving—that the notion of them going their separate ways after this day at the beach didn’t even exist in her mind.

“You haven’t been listening to a word I’ve been saying, have you?” Robin placed her hand on Micky’s knee.

“Fuck it, Robin. I want you so much. You have no idea.” Micky was done with pretense, with keeping her desire locked away behind a veil of decency.

“Let’s go to yours. I’d like to see it.”

Micky stepped on the gas a little more.

✶ ✶ ✶

“Nice place,” Robin said, casting an appreciative glance around.

Micky had foreseen this particular scenario of bringing Robin home and had done a quick cleaning swoop of the living room that morning before leaving. Anyway, her small house was always much tidier when the kids weren’t there.

It was unsettling to see Robin standing in her living room—another reason why she’d had to move. Micky could never have brought a woman into the living room of her old house, the house she’d lived in with Darren for so many years, and where her children had grown from babies to toddlers into teenagers. That was a different time, a different life, a different Michaela Ferro.

Because there she stood, heart thumping, with another woman in her house, ready to pounce on her. Last Tuesday, Micky had felt too overwhelmed to take the initiative, but today she was up for it, as though one night with Robin had been enough to give her a crash course in the secrets of lesbian—there was that word again—lovemaking.

Micky didn’t thank Robin for the compliments on how she had decorated her house. Instead, she bridged the gap between them and threw her arms around Robin’s neck, drawing her near. She hoped that the kiss she pressed on Robin’s lips said it all: that she’d wanted to do that all day, all week—all her life.

“Do you want to take a shower?” Robin whispered in her ear when they broke from that first kiss that left Micky dizzy and wanting so much more.

Micky shook her head, took Robin by the hand, and dragged her up the stairs. She didn’t have time for showers—though a possible scenario for extreme hotness did present itself there. But she wanted Robin spread wide for her as soon as possible, right that minute. She couldn’t leap up the stairs fast enough.

As nerve-racking as that first date with Robin had been, it had served its purpose. Micky didn’t have time for nerves anymore right then. The hours she’d already spent with Robin today, and how they had made her arousal grow out of proportion, had freed her of all inhibitions. Micky didn’t worry about wanting to impress Robin anymore. She had so much zeal, desire, and pure lust on her side, it would be impossible not to please her. It was as much a given as how, at that very moment, just before Micky was about to tear her clothes off her, Micky realized that, yes, she was, indeed, very much a lesbian.

When the heart
and
the loins worked in tandem like this, there was no longer any use denying anything. Micky was overcome by not only lust but also by an emotion so pure and raw in its intention, she didn’t want to lie to herself anymore. She didn’t want to lie to anyone anymore—though that was a matter for later. The truth Micky was about to engage in now was much easier to express. It consumed her, made her fingertips tingle when they touched Robin’s skin, made her heart leap when their lips met.

Micky didn’t give Robin a chance to appraise her sparsely decorated bedroom—there was only space for a bed, a nightstand, and a small wardrobe. Micky had downsized in every aspect of her life after her divorce, except in the emotions department, as though she needed to cast off her former excess of belongings to become this person focused much more on her inner world. She kissed Robin fully on the lips again and, in the brief moments that they broke apart, tugged off her shorts and hoisted her top over her arms, flinging them both somewhere on the hardwood floor.

“Someone’s eager,” Robin said, and took a step back, regarding Micky while a small smile played on her lips.

Was she going too fast? Putting Robin off? Micky was already down to her swimwear, had already brought her hands behind her back to unclasp her bikini top. Her skin was on fire, mimicking every cell inside of her.

“Take a deep breath,” Robin said, sounding very much like Amber, which gave Micky the breathing room she needed. “Relax. I’m not going anywhere. We have all night.”

While Micky liked the sound of that—particularly the implied promise that Robin would be staying the night—she couldn’t stop herself. Her rational mind, the only part of her that was even willing to consider slowing down, had to contend with that fire inside of her, and really, one was no match for the other.

“I want you,” Micky said. She didn’t care if she was endlessly repeating herself, reduced to a dumbed-down body with a one-track mind. She had a lifetime of desire to catch up on. She felt it throb violently between her legs, felt her bikini bottoms flood with it.

“I can see that.” Robin’s smile diminished, her features growing more serious.

If Micky
was
going to take a breath, she would use that moment to drink in Robin’s glorious face. Her blue eyes, her long lips, her hair tied back in a ponytail, leaving her shoulders free to be ogled. Micky didn’t know what she had done in a previous life to have landed in bed with someone like Robin in this one. She didn’t care, didn’t believe in any of that, though the thought had crossed her mind. All she cared about was feeling those toned muscles twitch underneath her, Robin’s flesh yielding to her touch. Micky had dreamed of this moment for ten days. It had been ten days since she’d woken up next to Robin and had had to dash out of her apartment. Ten days of pent-up desire, followed by spending a few hours next to a bikini-clad Robin on the beach. What had Sheryl and Kristin called it? Lesbian puberty? Oh yes, Micky was certainly in the throes of that.

Then, at last, Robin tugged her tank top over her head, wiggled out of her shorts.

Micky took it as a sign that she could now unsnap her bikini top. She tossed it to the floor with reckless abandon, as though the bikini coming off was the sign for her desire to unleash completely. She stepped out of her bikini bottoms and approached Robin, giving her an eager hand until they were both completely undressed. Micky dragged her onto the bed, wanted to feel the weight of Robin’s naked body on top of her, wanted to revel in it.

Micky threw her arms around Robin, drew her near, their lips and tongue meeting at an increasingly frantic pace. All the desire Micky had had to keep inside came rushing to the surface. Ten days of foreplay. Micky hadn’t dared call it that in her head, but now she realized that’s what it had been. Was it going to be like this every week? Oh, fuck it, she didn’t have time to think of that. Robin was pressing a deliciously smooth knee between her legs, against her naked sex, and Micky responded by slanting her entire body in the direction of that knee.

Micky’s hands groped hungrily and greedily. She brought one of them between their writhing bodies and grabbed for one of Robin’s magnificent breasts. The other, more daring, scooted down in search of Robin’s wetness.

Robin kissed her lips, neck, lips again, her mouth now drifting to Micky’s ear, and gently planted her teeth into Micky’s earlobe. Then she pushed herself away from Micky for an instant, allowing them both to catch a breath. A wicked grin crept along her face. Micky couldn’t wait to find out what it meant. Robin pushed herself all the way up until she sat on her haunches and then, in one swift motion, turned herself around, straddling Micky and backing up to her, bum-first.

Oh Christ
.

Robin’s strong body moved swiftly and lightly along Micky’s, until her pussy was—and there really was no other way to describe it—in Micky’s face. Micky could only conclude that Robin had read her eagerness, because how could it not have come across loud and clear? Now there she lay, trapped underneath Robin, staring straight at her most intimate parts.

Unafraid, and overtaken by a new level of lust, Micky brought her hands to Robin’s ass cheeks, let her nails dig into the soft flesh of them while, tentatively at first, her tongue darted out of her mouth and found Robin’s pussy.

Just as her tongue made contact, she felt Robin’s tongue between her own legs. Micky’s legs stiffened for an instant, her body adjusting to the overload of sensuality being bestowed upon it. But this was exactly what she wanted. All of it. Her tongue on Robin while Robin’s explored her. It made Micky bolder, made her insert her tongue deeper, with more strength and intention. She licked along Robin’s wet, wet lips, sucked them into her mouth, lapped at her lover’s pussy as if there was no tomorrow.

The double action of licking Robin and being licked by her at the same time made Micky ready to be tipped over the edge any second now. The smoldering sensation beneath her skin was quickly turning into full-blown fireworks, and she had more and more trouble focusing her tongue on the task at hand. Then, Robin brought a finger into the mix. She pushed into Micky slowly but steadily, and despite Micky’s desire for Robin to feel the exact same thing as she was in that divine moment, she soon lost all her focus to the obliterating, inevitable orgasm coursing through her, claiming her. Her head fell back into the pillow, while Robin fucked and licked her, and everything went black in Micky’s brain for an instant, followed by a bright explosion of pure whiteness.

When she came to, Robin’s pussy was no longer offered to Micky the way it had been before. Instead, Robin had swiftly pirouetted back to face Micky and now sat straddling Micky’s belly.

“What the hell are you doing to me?” Micky stammered, not even having the wherewithal to feel self-conscious about asking such a silly question. Because it was clear what Robin was doing to her. She was making great strides in the conquest of Micky’s body—and heart.

Robin didn’t reply. Just smiled down at Micky, scooted closer—Micky could feel the wetness of her pussy leaving a trail on her belly, then her breasts—until her pussy was wholly on offer once again.

I’m covered in woman
. She dug her nails into Robin’s backside and pulled her as close as she possibly could without losing the ability to breathe. She delved her tongue into Robin’s pussy and continued where she’d left off before the orgasm had swept through her. When she opened her eyes for an instant, she had a clear view of Robin’s perky breasts and, beyond them, of her exposed neck while she threw her head back in, what Micky hoped, was burgeoning ecstasy.

Micky gave it all she had. She alternated applying pressure with her tongue and bestowing the lightest of flicks on Robin’s clit and, meanwhile, relished how Robin’s body squirmed on top of hers. Micky was basically trapped between Robin’s thighs and, though she’d never envisioned an exact scenario like this one, took great delight in it. Then she remembered the effect the addition of a finger to the action had had on her earlier. She wiggled an arm underneath Robin’s thigh, pulled her mouth back from that intoxicating pussy for an instant, and plunged a finger inside Robin’s hot, moist depths.

“Oh God,” Robin exclaimed. “Oh yes.”

A brand new source of fire ignited under Micky’s skin. The receiving and the giving, the endless cycle of it made her curl her toes in anticipation as well. They had all night to repeat this, over and over again. And tomorrow was Sunday.

As Robin’s thighs clamped themselves around Micky’s head almost savagely, a rush of happiness burrowed itself through her flesh. All it took was for Micky to be wholly covered in woman to experience this kind of freeing satisfaction.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

After Robin had so brazenly come to sit on Micky’s face, changing Micky’s perception of herself a little more once again, they took a shower and went out to dinner. Micky didn’t remember much of dinner because her brain was so filled to the brim with all things Robin—her fingers, her wet sex, her wicked grin—that it seemed as though there was no room left in her short-term memory to store new impressions.

After dinner, there was a moment where, in hindsight, the perfect day they had spent together could have gone awry, when Micky saw a flicker of hesitation creep along Robin’s features when she asked if she was coming back home with her to spend the night.

In the end, after a brief moment of having to think about it, Robin said, “Why the hell not?” and they walked to Micky’s house together. The only reason Micky didn’t grab Robin’s hand on the short walk was not because she didn’t want to be seen holding another woman’s hand in her new neighborhood, but because she didn’t know if holding hands in public was within the boundaries of their friends-with-benefits arrangement.

They had tried to watch the news on TV, but Robin’s proximity, and the fact that they had the house all to themselves, made Micky unable to focus. She couldn’t keep her hands off Robin, was always touching at least one fingertip to her skin.

“Do you want to talk?” Robin asked at one point, but Micky just shook her head.

She’d never been the kind of girl to indulge in drugs, even a joint had always been too much for her non-smoker lungs, but she imagined this was what it felt like to lose control of her faculties. To have dopamine rush after dopamine rush cloud the working of the brain and reduce a person to a recurrent pleasure-seeker. But just for tonight, Micky didn’t care. Her brain might be fogged over with lust and dreaminess and foreign-to-her chemical processes, somewhere in the back of it, the realization did sit that she would be worrying about all of this later. About the consequences of this day on her life. That’s why, on this Saturday evening, and well into the night, until the moment Robin would kiss her good-bye, Micky would allow herself all the indulgence she had denied herself for years.

Micky kneeled between Robin’s legs downstairs in the living room sofa. Afterward, Robin pushed her against her bedroom door when they went up to sleep. Micky was so exhausted, her body too drained to leave any energy for her mind to worry, that she slept so deeply and late that the sun was already streaming through the windows when she woke up.