Stolen Moments (25 page)

The strokes began, slow and long. Martha’s entire body arched and went rigid, more susceptible than she could have imagined to this touch.
Eleanor is doing this!
Her insides squeezed tight, and her breath couldn’t come fast enough. Head flung back, feeling the nips traveling along her neck and hearing the quiet voice telling her how good she felt, Martha braced herself against the bookshelves. Her hands clenched Eleanor’s broad shoulders while her hips surged back and forth. It was a wild, salacious dance, utterly outrageous and glorious all at once. She was riding Eleanor’s hand, desperate for release. For several minutes Eleanor played her, obviously learning what made her crazy-excited and whispering her name when she quivered and cried aloud.

In the far recesses of Martha’s mind, it occurred to her that she was not being fucked; she was being adored.

Then Eleanor’s fingertip swirled around the edge of her darkness and Martha forgot everything. This was sex—sweltering, powerful, soul-shattering sex—and she wanted to come so badly she would scream if it didn’t happen right now.

Martha’s hips trapped Eleanor’s hand between her body and that maddening thigh, mounting the finger in a rush of wet heat. Then Eleanor was lifting her, swirling another finger in, and Martha was suddenly in the grip of blistering, white sensation. Every nerve ending was going off like Chinese firecrackers, blasting along each appendage and up and down her spine. Her own voice was ringing in her ears, hoarse from the rapture, and it all felt so blindingly good.

She went limp at some point, but her pelvis was still grinding hungrily against Eleanor, begging for more. When Martha embraced her, feeling overcome, Eleanor cradled her in her arms and lowered her tenderly to the floor. For the next little while, Eleanor cuddled her and soothed her, and before Martha’s befuddled senses figured out what was happening they were kissing again and her clothes were mostly off and she was completely on fire. One part of her mind was shouting, “Whoa!” while another part was chortling with glee.

Eleanor leaned over her, telling her, “I’ve got you. Everything’s all right,” while those hands moved over Martha like a master cellist, drawing sounds from Martha that she had never heard herself make. Eleanor was relentless, but this time, as Martha was driven crazy, she took Eleanor with her. She managed to ease sideways and crawl on top, and from there it got easier to control the action. She was half aware of the brush burns that the hard wooden floorboards were giving to her elbows and knees, but for the most part her awareness was dominated by the thrill and spectacle of making Eleanor the Great come undone. Passionate, and abandoned, she loved Eleanor with five years’ worth of pent-up longing, and Eleanor came with a mighty exaltation, yelling “Oh God!” twice, and then quaking like a birch tree on a blustery autumn day.

They actually fell asleep for a short time, but then the cold woke them both up. With a start, Martha sat up, her face fiery with embarrassment. She felt too good to be truly ashamed, however, and after Eleanor gave her a lingering kiss, it all seemed perfectly natural. She was turned on just looking at the woman, but a kiss, well, that made everything undeniably clear. Eleanor the Great could not be resisted.

Her next concerns were the books on the stacks where they had been going at it, and she leapt to her feet. Carefully, Martha examined each book on the shelves, amazed that she had risked harming them. “Holy mackerel,” she uttered. “Thank heaven I didn’t wreck anything.”

From her lethargic position on the floor, Eleanor laughed.

They dressed slowly, kissing and hugging one another, exclaiming about how they had never done anything so absolutely insane or divine. Martha took the Charlotte Fellers book from its place on the shelf, handed it to Eleanor, and joined her in the walk to the copying machine. They chatted about going out for coffee while Eleanor found and copied the material she wanted to reference. Then they returned the book to its niche in the behavioral sciences shelves.

Roughly an hour and a half after they had gone into the archives, they were on the outer side of the last door. Martha locked up, and grinning happily at each other, they walked to the information desk.

After they had exchanged phone numbers and addresses, Eleanor reached behind her and pulled something from her back pocket. Looking a little shy, she extended her hand. “I think this is yours.”

Martha’s breath caught in her throat. Eleanor held the laminated bookmark with the photo of herself. “How did you—?”

“It fell on the floor when I startled you—when you dropped your book.”

Martha opened her mouth to speak, then closed it and crossed her arms over her chest.
Oh God, no! She thinks I’m a stalker!

Eleanor moved closer, laying her hand on Martha’s cheek. “I know where I met you,” she said firmly. “I saw you that day. In the middle of the game, while I was chasing a ball, I ran up to the sideline and you were yelling ‘Go, Eleanor the Great!’ And when I looked into your eyes, I felt like I’d been hit by lightning.”

For a moment, Martha couldn’t speak. “Me too,” she sighed.

“I looked for you after the game, you know. I looked for you the whole of that year—in the cafeterias, on campus—every time I walked to or from class.”

Almost afraid to believe her, Martha felt the tears edge into her eyes.

“And now here you are. My lightning.” Eleanor leaned forward and kissed her.

Martha nodded. “I can’t believe it.”

“So,” Eleanor asked, “why were you calling me Eleanor the Great?”

Because I love you
, Martha wanted to say. But no, she wouldn’t say that yet. That could wait a bit. Maybe a few months. “It suits you,” Martha replied.

A finger pressed on Martha’s nose. “Oh no. Inspiring as it may be, that nickname has got to go.”

Martha grabbed the finger and laughed. “We’ll see.” She brought the hand to her mouth and kissed the palm that had loved her. “We’ll see, Eleanor.”

Jamie cornered me as I hurried out of the kitchen on another errand for Natasha, the bride-to-be. She grabbed me by the arm and tugged me into the bathroom, closing the door behind us. I could see familiar desperation in her eyes as she pushed me against the wall.

“It’s been a week,” she growled into my ear. I shivered when her hot breath tickled my neck. She pressed her lean body—clad in a tuxedo for Maria and Natasha’s wedding—against mine and ground our hips together. “A goddamn week, darling, and you look so good today and I want you so bad.”

My stomach flip-flopped at the pure need in her voice. Her hand crept under my skirt and brushed the soft skin of my inner thigh. She looked amazing, decked out in black, and I’d been watching her across the room all day.

“I want you too,” I whispered, and touched the side of her face. I’d wanted her all week long, but somehow we just hadn’t managed to find the time. And now, after hours spent helping to make sure Maria and Natasha’s big day would go smoothly, my need had reached a fever pitch and there was no relief in sight.

“God, sweetheart,” Jamie groaned. Her fingers found the heat between my legs, skimming over the crotch of my panties. “Five minutes?”

It was difficult, but I managed to shake my head. “Natasha asked me to run upstairs and get her necklace. I don’t have five minutes, baby. The guests are about to start arriving.” Then, despite my protest, I leaned in and kissed her hard.

Jamie whimpered and pushed her fingertip beneath the elastic leg of my panties, tickling the short hairs she found beneath. I broke apart from our kiss with a gasp and planted my hand on her chest.

“No.”

Jamie gave me a petulant frown. “But you kissed me.”

It was so hard to resist the desire in her brown eyes, but I was determined to be strong. “I’m sorry, baby. It’s the tux. You look so fucking hot, I can hardly stand it. But we don’t have time now.”

Growling, Jamie left me with one last searing kiss. “Later,” she said, then slipped out the door.

*

After the ceremony, there was dancing. Jamie claimed me quickly, dragging me over to a spot in the corner of the floor. She pulled me against her body and bent her head for a quick kiss. I looped my arms around her waist, feeling my nipples harden just from that simple reconnection.

Needing to breathe, I pulled away with a dazed grin. “I haven’t stopped looking at you all day,” I murmured as I recovered from her shattering kiss. “When Natasha was saying her vows, I realized just how hot and wet I was. You’re torturing me.”

Jamie pulled me closer and chuckled. “You love it.”

“I never said I didn’t.” I ran my hands up and down her strong back, wishing for the pressure of a firm thigh between my legs. “But I’m dying, I want you so bad.”

In the middle of the crowded dance floor, Jamie leaned in and licked my earlobe. “I’ve been hard for you all day too, sweetheart.” She pressed her hand against the small of my back, holding me tight against her body. “Tell me how you want me.”

Blushing, I looked around at the dancing couples who surrounded us. I met Natasha’s knowing eyes and then, when the newlyweds turned in a slow circle, Maria’s cocky grin. They looked so happy in each other’s arms, and seeing their joy only served to make me want Jamie more. Six years together, and my wife still made me burn.

I whispered into Jamie’s ear. “I want you inside me. Your fingers at first, then your cock. I want you on top of me and inside me, making me feel so good.”

Jamie pulled me closer and touched the back of my thigh with a warm, heavy hand. “I want to be in you so bad right now. I’ve been thinking about fucking you all day long. All fucking day.”

“We could sneak away—”

Jamie nipped at my neck, stopping my words with a delicious shiver. “You want me to fuck you, sweetheart? You want me to take you in the bedroom with all these people out here, and—”

She stopped talking and turned her head. Entranced by her words, I didn’t realize for a moment that Maria had tapped her on the back. Our friend, handsome in a tuxedo that matched Jamie’s, gave us both an apologetic grin.

“How’s the groom doing?” Jamie said with an easy grin, and slapped Maria on the back. In an instant, she went from seductive lover to butch buddy, and I watched the transition with a fond, if frustrated, smile.

Maria beamed, then sobered. “I’m really good. Perfect, actually. Except—”

“Except what?” Jamie asked, and gave me a subtle glance that telegraphed her deep need.

“Except Natasha’s sister. She’s wasted, and so is her husband, and I’m not sure what to do with them. They drove three hours to be here, and I’m not sure how they planned to get home…”

I saw the comprehension in Jamie’s eyes even as I felt a wave of disappointment roll through me. “You want them to stay with us?” Jamie offered. “I know you two want to be alone on your wedding night.”

Maria gave her a guilty look. “I don’t want to impose.”

I shook my head and touched Maria’s arm. “Not at all. This is your wedding night. You don’t want someone in the next room while you’re showing your wife how much you love her. We totally understand.”

“Well, if it’s really okay—”

“It’s okay,” Jamie said. She gave me a lingering, apologetic look. “We really do understand.”

*

After everyone but our houseguests had gone home, I escaped into our bedroom and closed the door behind me with a weary sigh. “I put Nicole and Ethan in the guest bedroom.” Natasha’s sister and her husband were very drunk, and very amorous. I had just been resenting the hell out of them as they groped each other while stumbling toward our guest bed.

Maria and Natasha owed us big time.

“What about Carrie?” Jamie asked. She was sitting up in bed, arms folded over her bare chest.

I sighed again. “On the pullout bed. She kept apologizing over and over again for needing to sleep over. She’s so embarrassed she got drunk.”

Jamie managed a tired smile. “She’s earned it, I guess. I know she’s been hurting since the breakup.”

“Yeah.” My arousal, which hadn’t left me throughout all the bustle of the day, was suddenly overwhelmed by a deep exhaustion. “Shit.”

Jamie’s eyes shone with sympathy. “I know, sweetheart.”

With a pained groan, I trudged over to the bed and tugged off my skirt. “This isn’t gonna work, is it?”

“I don’t think so.”

When I finished undressing, I dropped onto the mattress next to my wife. “But I’ve been wanting you all day.” Worn out, I felt tears threatening at the corners of my eyes. “This isn’t fair.”

Jamie encouraged me over onto my side so she could spoon me. Curling an arm around my stomach, she pulled me tight against her body and dropped a gentle kiss on the back of my shoulder. “I know, sweetheart,” she said again.

I was too exhausted to do anything about it, but my bone-deep need just wouldn’t die. “I want you to fuck me,” I complained in a whisper. I pressed my bottom backward, feeling a tired delight at the sensation of wiry curls brushing against my bare skin.

Exhaling against the back of my neck, Jamie leaned up and planted a kiss on my cheek. “I will,” she murmured into my ear. “But sleep now.”

*

When I woke up, she was inside of me.