Page 65 of Deck the Hauls

I let my hand skim down Dana’s flat stomach to her dark curls. I slipped my fingers between her legs, a wave of arousal washing over me as Dana opened her thighs and her wetness coated my fingers. As my mouth continued to lick and suck Dana’s nipples, I parted her, running my fingers from her entrance up to her hard little nub. My fingers glided smoothly over her clit.

“Oh god,” Dana groaned. “That feels so good.”

I smiled. Despite my worries that I was out of practice, it all felt so natural, so easy. I’d forgotten what it was like to be this attentive to someone, aware of every sound they made, every subtle shift of their body, solely focused on bringing them maximum pleasure.

Gradually I increased the intensity of my attention on Dana’s breasts, my licks and tongue swirls becoming firmer, my sucks on her nipples less gentle, simultaneously escalating the pressure of my fingers on her clit. Dana spread her legs wider, her hands grasping my hair.

“Do you want my fingers inside you?” I asked breathlessly.

“No, this feels incredible,” Dana gasped out. “Keep going.”

I refocused on Dana’s breasts and clit, my mouth working harder, my strokes faster.

“Oh fuck!” Dana arched her hips, her body quaking under me as the orgasm rolled over her, fists clenching my hair.

I kept going, concentrating hard to keep my fingers on Dana’s clit as her hips moved.

“Enough,” Dana finally said, laughing. “That was amazing.”

I dropped my hand and slowly trailed kisses up Dana’s chest, which was rising and falling heavily, back up over her collarbone, and her neck, until I finally reached her face.

Dana wrapped her arms around me and brought me in for a long, slow kiss.

My arm was aching from holding myself up—I bet Dana didn’t have that problem given her upper body strength—so I rolled off Dana and lay next to her instead, wrapping my arms around her waist.

We lay together, intertwined in the warmth of each other’s bodies and the fire, like two graham crackers bonded together with gooey marshmallows and melted chocolate. I let out a satisfied sigh. As tired as I was, I didn’t want to let myself fall asleep just yet. I wasn’t ready for this moment to end.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

DANA

I gazed at Emily, hair mussed and a sleepy smile on her face, lying next to me. My heart felt on the verge of spontaneous combustion.

“That was incredible,” I murmured, after we’d lain in silence for a while. I trailed a finger down her cheek.

“It really was.” Emily smiled.

I traced my finger across her jaw, then raised an eyebrow. “So, you’re attracted to women?”

Emily laughed. “Impressive deduction skills.”

I grinned. “You know what I mean. I Googled you, and the results only mentioned you dating men.”

Emily slid her hand over my side and rested it on my hip. “I worked out that I was attracted to women as well in my early teens, but I kept it close to my chest. I’ve had a few experiences with women, but nothing serious.”

I frowned. “Why did you keep it close to your chest?”

Emily wriggled forward so she was only inches from my face, her breasts grazing mine. “To be honest, it just seems like the easier option. Since I’m attracted to men too, why open myself up for discrimination? I grew up in a Catholic neighborhood and witnessed a lot of homophobia. My parents and Lucia are fine with me being pan, and I think things are changing, even in Dyker Heights, but it has definitely made me reluctant to publicly date women.”

I slipped my arm under Emily’s and wrapped it around her waist. “You’d think a place called Dyker Heights would be embracing lesbians and other queer women with open arms.”

Emily laughed. “It was named after the Van Dyke family, not lesbians unfortunately. And it’s not just Dyker Heights. Being a queer—even minor—public figure can attract a lot of negative attention from some parts of the internet. Why put myself through that?”

I readjusted my head on the pillow. “I’m sorry you don’t feel comfortable being yourself.”

“Yeah. I’ve generally made peace with it. But every so often I’ll encounter a woman, like a smoking-hot, wood-chopping farmer, and I’ll have regrets.”

“A smoking-hot, wood-chopping farmer, eh? Was that just a hypothetical example or…”