Funny how a few minutes ago she was ready to declare herself on the brink of death to get out of tonight and now she wanted to know what made the woman tick. That was just the effect Emily had on her—she drew Bette in like gravity.
“I don’t know,” Emily said, meeting her gaze. “It’s not that I don’t love what I do. I really do. It’s just… Well, I think I used toneedit. If I wasn’t the best, if I wasn’t pushing myself to the edge, then what was I even worth?”
“And now?” Bette asked softly, her voice nearly disappearing between the distant calls of seagulls.
“Now, I don’t know,” Emily said, her gaze distant. “Maybe I just don’t want to live my life like that anymore. Like I have to be constantly chasing something to prove I matter.”
“You do matter,” Bette said. “You don’t need to prove that.” She had no idea what came over her, but the next thing she knew, her hand drifted across the table to cup Emily’s.
It was almost instinctive like some unspoken force had compelled her to do it, like an old cottage ghost with an agenda up her sleeve.
Emily stared down at Bette’s hands, her eyes wide, slightly startled, as if the move had taken her by complete surprise. Although, given everything, how Bette had acted toward her, how she’d been so guarded and distant, it was probably the last thing Emily expected in this moment. Her fingers twitched beneath Bette’s palm, but she didn’t pull them away.
“Emily…” Bette started, her voice barely above a whisper, her throat tight as she said the woman’s name.
And then it happened.
Emily leaned in. Or maybe it was Bette who closed the distance first. It didn’t matter. In a heartbeat, the space between them disappeared and their lips met, softly at first, a gentle press that deepened, got wilder, as if they couldn’t stop themselves.
Bette didn’t even feel herself standing up, she wasn’t even aware of Emily getting up, or the way their bodies instinctively moved toward each other. But suddenly, they were there—arms wrapped around each other, mouths still pressed together, breaths coming fast and uneven.
Bette’s fingers tightened on Emily’s neck, drawing her even closer, wanting more and more while Emily’s hands found her waist, pulling her closer.
The world around them felt reduced to this one, single moment, this all-consuming kiss.
When Bette’s hands drifted down Emily’s back, fingertips grazing the curve of her spine, she could feel the warmth of the surgeon’s skin through the thin fabric of her shirt and suddenly, she wanted more.Neededmore.
“My bedroom is just down the hall,” Bette breathed, hoping she didn’t have the wrong idea. Because a kiss like that had to lead to one thing only. Sex. There was no other way the nightcould end. Food didn’t matter. The only thing that did was to strip Emily out of her clothes.
“I thought you’d never ask.” Emily smiled and let Bette take her hand and lead her down the hallway.
By the time they reached the bed, Bette was already in her underwear and Emily was yanking off her top, dropping it to the floor. Bette helped Emily out of the rest of her clothes, fingers sliding against her soft silky skin as she unclipped her bra, tugged down her panties and once the woman was bare, Bette quickly shrugged out of her own underwear.
She had every intention of going down on Emily, of tasting her again, and she was just about to take charge when Emily beat her to it.
The surgeon pushed Bette down onto the bed and she barely had time to admire Emily’s perfect breasts, those tight nipples before she flattened herself against Bette, slotting her leg in between Bette’s thighs until they both let out a moan. There was nothing better than skin against skin, tits against tits, and clits finding clits. Nothing.
Emily kissed her, hard, and at the same time started undulating on top of Bette, sliding her nipples intentionally over hers while her hot core sought the friction they both needed.
Bette grabbed Emily’s hips, gripping them a little too hard, nails digging into the skin, but Emily didn’t seem to mind it at all. Her eyes were closed, tongue working in Bette’s mouth as she slammed her hips against Bette’s over and over again. Bette tilted her head back into the pillow, her clit throbbing. She was ready to take this to the next level, to fuck the woman she should never have invited over, never have led to her bed.
Then, all of a sudden, the humping stopped. Bette snapped her eyes open and watched as Emily, who was smiling, moved her head lower until her mouth wrapped around Bette’s nipple, her tongue flicking it in such a way that bursts of electricityshot down to Bette’s hips making her groan. Emily nibbled and sucked on Bette’s nipple while her free hand palmed her other tit for a few seconds before smoothing down her stomach, over her mound, and settling between her thighs.
“Are you trying to kill me?” Bette breathed, pushing her hips up against Emily’s wrist. She was so fucking hot, and the hum between her legs was reaching an all-time high.
“No,” Emily breathed, unlatching from her nipple just long enough to add, “I’m making up for what you did for me the other night.”
Bette nearly frowned but then remembered the gala, how she had pushed Emily up against the stone wall and went down on her. “Well then, go right ahead.”
Emily smiled, her fingers teasing along the crease of Bette’s thighs, stroking up and down until Bette was shuddering like a tree in a storm. If it lasted any longer, Bette would’ve done something rash, grabbed Emily’s hand perhaps, and forced her fingers up inside of her, anything to get the ball moving. But Emily beat her to it. Her hand spread Bette’s legs wider and then she slipped two fingers between Bette’s slick folds unleashing a moan so guttural, Bette wasn’t sure if it had even come from her own throat. But it had. It most certainly had.
While Emily’s mouth sucked at the same nipple, the surgeon pumped her fingers in and out of Bette deeply, while Bette, who was whimpering, rolled her hips with the motion, over and over again.Every thrust felt like a mini orgasm. Every second felt euphoric.
She was so close, so damn close…
But then Emily stopped. She drew her fingers out. Bette, who had nearly climaxed, was just about to ask her why the hell she had stopped, when the surgeon moved down to the end of the bed, settling her head between Bette’s thighs.
Those words were suddenly gone. And whatever was on Bette’s mind had evaporated when Emily stuck out her tongue and stroked it up the length of her. Her whole mouth pressing in. Sucking. Licking. Devouring.
