Punk and Zen (29 page)

I was more than taken aback—I was shocked, although
maybe I shouldn’t have been. I mean, I’d had the same crush on her that the
rest of the student body’d had. Well, maybe a little more, in reality, since we
did hang out, and I knew that Samantha and I had had—well, we never got that
far.

Something, I don’t know what, shifted within me,
broke, re-formed, changed. I owed Fran—for her time, for her feelings, for what
she had felt then, and for what I was putting her through now. An amazing new
thought ran through my head—maybe I owed myself, too.

I gave her a soft smile as I touched her face, framing
her cheeks with my fingers. “I’m sorry,” I told her, and I meant it—I was sorry
for everything —“I didn’t know.” That would be the last time either one of us
mentioned Samantha or anything about her for some time.

She seized my hand and kissed it. “I don’t…I mean…it
doesn’t matter if we make love or not.” She kissed my hand again, then folded
my fingers over and held my hand to her heart. “I don’t care what you’ve done
and I don’t care where you’ve been,” she declared. “I just love…that, that
you’re really here.”

How could I not respond to that? Here she was, so
loving, so kind, and, a part of my mind said, so aroused and cheated; how could
I deny that? My former roommates? Honestly, they sucked. The women I’d fucked?
Didn’t care about me, well, except maybe for Candace. I think she might have
tried. The women at the bar? Just wanted to score. Besides, it’s not like I
hadn’t seen what happened to anyone I’d observed—lovers came and went.
Declarations of romantic love would spread like confetti one night, only to be
followed by heartbroken sobs the next. I didn’t want that.

And as far as Samantha went, well, she wasn’t here;
she was a stranger, lived across the pond, had never come home. And given that
Candace was her girlfriend or ex or whatever it was, that meant that she had
more than likely known how to get in touch with me for several months—and
hadn’t bothered. She wasn’t interested and didn’t care.

No. I deserved something more than that, didn’t I?
Fran had made no demands, had pushed no agenda, was still giving me every
opportunity to handle this any way I wanted. I made a decision: what I needed,
what I wanted, was her.

If I was going to do this, it would have to be now or
forever hold my peace about it because I didn’t know if I could do this
tomorrow—and I saw that this, this whatever could grow between us, had the
potential to be beautiful. I wanted something beautiful, I wanted someone
beautiful, in the exact way that she was—inside as well as out. Maybe that was
something I could be too, someday.

I kissed her cheek softly and took both her hands in
mine. “Francesca Kitt DiTomassa,” I whispered in her ear, ABC “it
matters to me.” I kissed the corner of her eye where another tear threatened to
fall.

“I…I want to make love with you,” I said quietly. Her
breath caught, and she absolutely stilled. Her eyes searched mine, and I
answered honestly. “I want you to love me.”

She smiled at me with such fierce joy, then looked at
my lips with such a sensual twist to her own that the first part made me feel
like I had stepped into the sun, and the second simply thrilled through me.

I was scared, so scared I could feel myself shake as
she laid me down with contained strength and kissed me again. This time fire
lanced through me in tightening strings that ran to my wrists as my tongue
slipped between her teeth and savored the taste of my cunt on her tongue. Her
skin was velvety warm as her legs molded to mine.

My fear ebbed when she ran her fingers down my ribs,
and I gasped when she grasped my nipple, teasing one, then the other, to
hardened, sensitive peaks.

But it was when her teeth closed on the tendon of my
neck as her belly pushed into mine that the fire that had shot through me
before came racing back like high tide, taking me with it, settling in my cunt.

I seized Fran and kissed her fiercely, trying to show
her with my tongue how she made me feel, and when finally, finally, I felt the
solid heat of her pussy on mine, I let her slide between my legs.

“Thank you,” she sighed into my ear before she arched
her back away from me, which brought even more pressure to bear on my
tightening clit. She began a slow and steady glide against me, and as I
scratched my fingertips along the lines of her back, I snaked the other hand
between us so I could spread our joined lips.

“God…” she groaned as our clits met, and I agreed.
Fran slid against me with a purpose now, and my hips moved to the same rhythm.
Every kiss of her cunt took away another part of the world; each time her clit
licked mine my skin grew hotter, until I couldn’t take it anymore, and my
hands, which had been alternately stroking her shoulders and grasping her
breasts, teasing her nipples, tasting them, flew to her beautifully toned ass
that flexed against me. I pulled her as hard into me as I could. I so
desperately needed to hold her, to be completely with her, to get even closer
under her skin that I wrapped my body around her, my knees pressing behind her
shoulders, and my hands guiding her ass firmly on my cunt.

Fran instinctively spread her legs a bit and gasped at
the increased pussy contact. I felt desperate as those slick, wet lips hugged
my clit and hers ground into me.

The first time it happened I wasn’t sure. The slip of
her cunt on mine felt so amazing that even though I felt something different,
the sensation was so brief and this all felt just so good, I didn’t care. When
it happened again seconds later, I definitely noticed, and so did she.

“Oh,” she groaned, a low and throaty sound, and she
buried her face into my neck.

I opened eyes I hadn’t realized I’d closed. It felt
exactly like, well, I couldn’t tell you then, but I can certainly tell you now:
the tip of a thumb when it moves just inside you.

Fran’s luscious cunt now thrust more than slid, and I
was so amazed by this new sensation that was in me, even the slightest bit,
that I literally stilled.

“Hey,” she asked softly as her pussy eased against
mine, “are you okay?” She lifted herself up and looked at me.

I gazed back into her tawny eyes and stroked her
magnificent shoulders. Even had we not been on swim team together, even had I
not known anything else about her, I would’ve been able to tell she had at
least been a swimmer by those shoulders. I traced the muscles with my
fingertips, then returned to her face and neck, pushing away the unruly locks
that fell across her cheeks.

Her face flushed, skin sweat-shiny, and hair loose,
she awed me. I had never seen anyone more beautiful than she was at that
moment, a lioness above me, and the expression on her face threatened to bring
me to tears.

I relaxed my legs, content to twine them around hers,
and she relaxed as well, settling her legs under mine, propping herself on her
forearms. Her cunt still pressed against mine, for which I was grateful—I
didn’t want this to end. Her fingers were warm on my cheeks, and she rubbed her
thumb across my chin while she waited for my answer.

“I’m okay.” I smiled and got a sudden attack of the
shys. “It’s just…I mean, I…” I took a breath and tried again. “It’s just…I
mean, I never—”

Fran cut me off with a kiss that shot straight to my
clit and wrapped me in her arms. She was a phenomenal kisser, and as I flicked
my tongue against hers, I pushed my hips into hers.

She tore her mouth from mine and scraped her teeth
against my neck. “I know, Nina,” she whispered hotly into my ear, then kissed
my throat. “I know.”

She ran strong fingers up my leg and slipped her arm
under my neck, and just as neatly, she shifted over until she was lying next to
me, almost on top of me. I didn’t wait for her to lean in to kiss me—I wrapped
my arms around her shoulders. I’d found her full breast and stroked along its
curve before catching her nipple, tweaking it. Her kiss set my skin dancing
while her fingers nimbly played with my short pussy hairs.

“Mmm…” she murmured, “you know, I’ve kept the habit
myself.”

I chuckled despite the rising heat—I knew she meant
the swim-team trim. Hey, it’s a habit you don’t break. Why? Someone’s got to
buy all those trimmers, right?

I replaced my fingertips with my lips and sucked in
the honey-sweet taste of her skin. Her nipple felt gratifyingly hard under my
tongue, and I let my free hand glide down her taut stomach muscles to find out
if what she had said was true. I had thought so—it had felt that way when her
pussy was against mine—but I wasn’t sure. When my fingers found her, I knew.

“I see,” I whispered back. She groaned when I cupped
her cunt in the palm of my hand, my fingertips alternately squeezing and
massaging her full lips, swollen with such need that they’d parted, her clit so
hard I could feel it throb against my palm. I wanted so much to be in her that
my fingers twitched and my clit jumped with hers. It jumped even more when she
slipped two fingers around it and slid them slowly up and down my pussy.

“You’re so soft,” Fran said. She explored my cunt and
stroked back up. “And you’re so…hard…” she added, squeezing my clit between her
fingers.

I couldn’t take it anymore. I had to touch her. My
pussy hurt knowing she was ready for me, slick and open and hard. I took her
clit between my thumb and forefinger and began to gently jerk her off while I
let my middle and ring fingers play right around the hot wet entrance to her
cunt. Oh yes. That. Felt. Good.

“God, what are you doing to me?” Fran groaned, her
hips surging in time with my strokes and pressing against my clit even harder,
which made me groan in response.

“I’m jerking you off,” I told her honestly when I
could think for a moment. She tossed her head and exposed her neck. It was a
target I had to take, and I dragged my lower lip along its length before I bit
down lightly. “You are so hard…and so wet,” I added, teasing my fingers against
her opening.

Fran rolled over me slightly, and the hand that had
been under my neck cupped my head. My lips met her halfway, and she pumped my
clit harder, faster, her hips timed to her thrust, my body meeting hers.

I hadn’t slipped my fingers completely inside her yet,
but I was dying to, and though I was surprised when she anticipated me and
placed a fingertip by my opening, I was ready.

“God…yes,” I told her when I opened my eyes to see her
watching me.

“Are you sure?” she asked, searching my face. “Really
sure?”

I switched the angle of my hand and brought my thumb
against her clit, the very tips of my fingers almost, but not quite inside of
her. She was so wet I wanted to come right then.

“I want to feel you come inside of me,” I told her. I
wasn’t afraid anymore. I needed her to feel everything I was feeling—all those
wordless emotions that were all about her, everything I’d ever thought or felt
and how much, just how so much I cared. And I did. The combination of her tears
and tenderness, my memory and my crush made me love her.
She
made me
love her.

“Fran…I need to be inside you…please…” She shifted her
leg in response, opening herself up to me in such a trusting gesture it nearly
undid me.

Her pussy was such welcome relief to my fingers—hot,
tight, and soft. God, she was soft and slick, and I moved slowly within her,
the feel of her loving cunt driving me insane with the twin drives of lust and
humility. This was Fran, and Fran loved me. I knew it, I could feel it. Her
body told me.

“You feel so good,” I choked out, overcome by the
amazing sensations she was stroking out of my clit and the way her pussy hugged
me as I moved within her, each stroke an embrace.

I thrust my hips against her, bellies meeting, and
still, she wouldn’t enter me; she maintained her fingertips at my entrance. I
pushed against her, trying to embrace her in return.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” she gasped into my ear.

I loved that—that she was thinking of me even as her
cunt began to pull on me, urging me farther within.

I thrust deep inside of her and wrapped my leg over
her hip. “You won’t,” I told her. “I want you to
know
how alive I am.”

“Oh, yeah…” she groaned as I ground my thumb against
her clit and pressed my fingers up inside her. Her fingertips moved against me,
almost inside of me, making me frantic with need, my cunt aching to hold her.

“You’re so open,” she murmured, voice catching as she
moved her fingers ever so slowly into that ache, “you are so beautiful, Nina,
so damned beautiful.”

She paused for one heart-stopping moment, raising her
head and shoulders, and stared at me, eyes shining bright and wordless.

Lowering her lips closer to mine, she whispered, “I
love you. I’ve always loved you.”

I smiled gently up at her. “I know, Fran. I know.” I
kissed that perfect mouth again, and as she slipped her tongue between my lips,
with careful tenderness, Fran slid her fingers inside of me, filling me.

It hurt—a sweet, aching pierce that went through my
cunt to my chest—and I gasped into her lips as her tongue tangled with mine. My
back arched to make room for her inside me.