Heat pools low in my groin, and I can feel how slick I’m becoming as my movements quicken. Wren’s hand comes up, fingers threading through the hair at my nape. She grips the strands but doesn’t tug. Holding me against her throat as I grind against her. I’m so fucking turned on, my clit is throbbing a heartbeat of its own.
Her other hand slides down the curve of my body, cupping my ass over my panties. My heart stammers in my chest from having her hands on my body, knowing she’s in this moment with me. That it’s not just me who wants this. Moving my lips against her neck, I kiss her, tongue dipping out and tasting. Her skin tastes fresh and sweet, like the body wash she used in the shower and a flavor that is one all her own. It’s intoxicating. A moan slips out when Wren’s hand grips my ass tighter, pressing me closer to her, and suddenly, I wish I was wearing way less clothes. I want to feel her bare skin against mine, feel how wet I make her—if I even do. I wouldn’t know what to do with her, but I’d try.
I’m practically panting, my breathing coming out rough, as her nails bite into my flesh.I wonder if they’ll leave a mark.
None of this makes sense, but not a single part of it feelswrong.
Heat spreads underneath my skin, pressure building. I’m slowly losing composure.
“Wren…” Her name leaves my lips on a breathy moan.
She uses her grip on my hair to pull my head back, crashing her lips down on mine, and that’s all it takes. The dam bursts, my toes curling as she slips her tongue between my parted lips. She tastes so damn sweet. Pleasure ripples through me as my body trembles, clit pulsing as Wren rips her lips from mine, bringing them to my neck as I cry out. Sharp teeth graze my flesh as wave after wave of ecstasy pours through me.
My body melts into the bed, arms clinging tightly around her as I come down. Her lips easily find mine again, kissing me in a way that feels like a promise. This kiss is so muchmorethan our first all those years ago. My head feels dizzy, body still vibrating from the orgasm. I never want this to stop. Needing Wren to feel this all-consuming bliss I’m feeling, I gather whatever post-nut confidence I can muster and work my hand lower and lower on her stomach until I reach the waistband of her shorts. Before I have a chance to dip my fingers underneath, she wraps her hand around mine, holding it in place.
“Not tonight,” she whispers against my lips before giving me one more kiss, tucking my face back into her neck.
A large part of me wants to protest, but exhaustion takes over almost immediately, and suddenly, my eyes feel too heavy to keep open. Gentle fingers rake through my hair, lulling me to sleep as a smile tugs on my lips. Right here, in Wren’s arms, I feel safe for the first time in a while. It feels like the moment my eyes close, I’m out, not waking again until the sun is pouring in through the curtains the next morning.
Chapter Seven
Wren Carlisle
I’ve known I was gay since I was a very little girl. I never looked at boys the way my friends did. Never felt the fluttery feeling in my stomach when they played with me on the playground or sat next to me at lunch. I wasn’t like other girls, dreaming of Prince Charming and the wedding I’ll have one day to my husband.
Sure, I dreamed about my wedding, but it was always a beautiful woman beside me.
I also never had to formally“come out”to my family. Something I don’t think any queer person should have to do. Straight people don’t ever feel the need to announce their straightness to their families, so why should we? You love who you love, period.
But I do think I got lucky with my family. The military hasn’t always been the most accepting of queer relationships. They’ve gotten better over the years, but I still think they’re a ways away from being fully accepting. My parents are some of the most accepting and loving people I’ve ever met. All they’ve ever wanted was for me to be happy, and when I brought home my first crush and introduced them to her, they didn’t even bat an eye or think twice about welcoming her into our home.
For as long as I’ve known Nelly, which at this point is more than half my life, she’s been straight. She never questioned that, never showed interest in other women. There was that one time in college when we kissed, but I chalked that up to drunk and upset shenanigans. There was never a moment after that night when I thought there might be hope for us as more than just best friends.
I knew better. I refuse to be naïve with Nelly.
Her parents are also very traditional. Old school. You marry amanand start your life together. Have kids, buy a house, live happily ever after, even if you’re not all that happy. They’re very much the anti-divorce, pro-perfect-marriage illusion. So, I don’t think being anything other than straight ever occurred to Nelly.
In her home, and thousands of other homes, being straight is the standard. Whereas in mine, there is no standard. We aren’t all born straight and then veer off at some point. We are born who we are—straight, gay, bisexual, pansexual, ace.
Sexuality isn’t a one size fits all.
But my point is, I’ve never questioned if Nelly was as straight as she always thought she was. Even after the kiss in Arizona all those years ago.
Until last night.
Until she woke up in the middle of the night and rode my leg like a cat in heat while she came with my name on her lips.
If blue balls for women are a thing, I definitely have it. I’ve never been more turned on in my life. Nor have I ever been as sexually frustrated. The entire situation, from start to finish, was confusing, to say the least. And I don’t know how to talk to her about it. I don’t even know where to start.
We’ve been on the road for several hours at this point, and we’ve barely said more than a few sentences to each other. The music is turned up loud, drowning out the suffocatingly tense silence between us.
I hate it.
And I still have no idea what her plans are once we arrive in San Diego. Is she planning to move in with me while she finds a place? Move in with her parents? Is this just a quick vacation for her before she goes back home to her abusive asshole of a husband? We haven’t talked about any of this. Which, up until last night, felt okay, because I didn’t want to rush her into talking about shit before she was ready. But isthatwhy she did that with me last night? Because she’s confused and hurt and latching onto someone or something she knows is a constant? If so, I really fucking wish she wouldn’t.
Of course, Ilovedwatching her writhe and moan all over me in bed. I loved knowing she came because of me. Seeing her like that,hearingher… it was every fucking dream I never allowed myself to have. She’s always been completely off limits. She’s my best friend—mystraightbest friend—but I’m also ridiculously and pathetically in love with her.
I’ve gotten extremely well at shoving that emotion down. Although, her living across the country probably played a big role in my success of hidden emotions. Will it be as easy to ignore them with her in the same city as me again? In the same house?
