Discovering Delilah (Harborside Nights, Book 2) (6 page)

She smiles. “I was hoping you would.”

“God, Janessa. How’d you learn to do that?”

“Practice.”

She wraps her arms around my neck and leans back against the arm of the couch, bringing me down on top of her. I kick off my boots and settle my body between her legs. We’re hip to hip, and again I notice the difference between Frank’s hard muscles and
the soft pillows of Janessa’s breasts, the feel of her tender hands on my arms. The lack of a hard rod between us, pressing into my stomach. There’s only soft femininity. I kiss her lips and let my mouth travel south, paving the way for my hands, lingering, exploring her breasts again with shaky hands. I’m nervous, but it’s different this time. I’m in student mode, and somehow that makes it a little
easier. I’m even more detached, taking mental notes of what makes her hips meet mine, what earns me a moan or a gasp.  

“That feels so good.” She holds the back of my head, keeping my mouth over her breast as I lap her nipple, then take her breast into my mouth again.

I kiss a path down the flat plane of her stomach. It’s nice not to have to battle with a man’s chest hair. I never thought
about how many things I didn’t like about being with guys, but it’s all coming to the forefront. From their heady scent to the roughness of their skin. I can’t help but wonder what Ashley’s naked body would feel like. I play her image over and over in my mind as I explore Janessa’s stomach, her ribs, her hips. When I get to her miniskirt, I lick above the waist of the material, which is right
above her pubic bone, and then I lean back a little, pressing my hands to her thighs, and I stop.

I don’t know how to do this.

I’m going to do it wrong
.

“It’s okay,” she whispers. “Don’t feel pressure, Delilah. You don’t have to do anything.”

“No. I want to. I just…”
Don’t know how
.

She sits up and presses her hands to my cheeks, then kisses me softly. “You can’t do it wrong.
Just do what you want Ashley to do to you.”

A dreamy sigh escapes before I can stop it. Hearing Ashley’s name linked to something so sexual makes butterflies take flight in my stomach. I want to be with her so badly I ache.

I’m so thankful Janessa understands. We don’t say anything more. She eases onto her back and closes her eyes, which makes it much less stressful for me. I lower my
lips to her belly and allow my hands to feel the softness of her thighs, the heat between her legs. I use both hands to lower her thong. She smiles as we maneuver around each other to get it completely off, and then she eases back down. She’s so patient, which makes me a little less embarrassed. Everyone should have someone like Janessa to walk them through their first time.

I close my eyes
as I explore her body and think,
Do what I want Ashley to do to me.
My hands splay wide across the tops of her thighs. I slide them up until my thumbs touch, feeling the heat of her sex. I brush over her wetness, marveling in the slick, warm feel of her skin. I move my thumbs up, nimbly find her clit, and caress it gently, stroking her with my other hand. When my fingers sink inside her wetness,
she breathes harder.

I hardly breathe at all.

Her eyes are closed and her head is tilted back, lips slightly parted. I’m still unsure about my skills, but when her hips rise off the couch and she grips the cushions in fisted hands, I guess I’m doing something right. My head is in a strange place, learning, watching, wanting to take her to the mind-numbing place she took me.

I try to
find the spot inside her that will make her lose control, and I feel like I’m fumbling and losing confidence. She’s writhing like she likes it, but I know I’m not getting her there. She’s not lost in sensation like I was, and I desperately want to learn this. Somehow I know this will be my only
lesson
.

I can do this. I have to do this. I have to ask
. I gather all the courage I can possibly
hold on to in the three seconds I give myself and plead, “Show me.”

Her hands unfurl. “Yes,” she says in one long whisper.

“I’m sorry.” I draw away, embarrassed to have asked for guidance.

She sits up and kisses me. “Delilah, you’re perfect. You’re wonderful. If Ashley’s into girls, then you’re going to make her a very happy woman. This—like anything else in life—is perfected with
experience. Every woman’s body is different.”

I deflate a little. Is she trying to tell me that she can’t teach me? I imagine googling
How to Make a Girl Come
, and I shift my eyes away.

She kisses me again, but I’m so focused that I’m anxious and I push her gently away.

“Can you—”
Show me, show me, show me.

She nods. “When you put your finger inside, put it all the way in, and
then do this.” She turns her palm up and moves her finger in a
come-hither
way. “As you…
explore
…you’ll find a spot that feels different from the rest. Ridged, or rougher. That’s the G-spot, but some women don’t respond to it, so if you can’t find it, don’t worry. Chances are it’s not something you’re doing wrong, and honestly, that’s like an added bonus. You can get a woman over the edge by just
doing what you were doing, so don’t stress over this, okay? Your touch is amazing.”

That makes me feel a little more at ease. Even though this explanation should embarrass me, it doesn’t. I’m a good student, and I’m going to nail this.

“You have a look of determination in your eyes.” She smiles. “It’s really cute.”

“I’m kind of a competitive student.” I always had to be, to meet the
grades my parents expected, but I don’t tell her this as she relaxes back onto the couch again and brings her own hand between her legs.

Holy crap, that’s so hot
.

“Touch me,” she whispers.

I stroke her around her finger, then press mine into her all the way and crook my finger. Just as I feel the spot I think is right, she moans. My heart skips a beat, knowing I accomplished this.
Watching her face flush and her teeth trap her lower lip as I repeat the move over and over while she strokes her clit and comes apart right there around my fingers is the most exciting thing I’ve ever seen. She reaches for me and I think she wants to kiss me, so I move quickly up to meet her lips, my fingers still buried deep inside her. She tucks her forehead against my neck, thrusts her hand into
my underwear, and takes me up, up, up, and we spiral over the edge together.

Questions. Answered
.

I don’t know how long we lie together on the couch, but sometime later we bring the wineglasses into the kitchen and I carry my phone and boots to the door, knowing I look as freshly fucked as she does, and not caring. Her hair is awry and her lips have that kissed-too-hard look. I’m no longer
embarrassed, and I don’t feel funny standing with Janessa at her front door. It’s hard to imagine that a few hours ago I was standing on the other side of the door debating leaving. Thank God I didn’t.

I feel so much freer than I have ever felt and so much gratitude toward her. It’s a little overwhelming. My body is still humming from her touch and from the confidence she’s given me. From
knowing, once and for all, that I’m
definitely
into girls. 

“Thank you, Janessa. I don’t know how long I would have gone before ever…”

She cups the back of my head and presses her lips to mine. “You’re amazing. Just be careful, you know. Be smart. Respect your body.”

I nod.

“Are you okay? Are
we
okay?” Her eyes get serious.

I nod faster than I mean to. “I don’t feel weird.
Oh gosh, do you?”

“No. No, Delilah, I don’t. But I’ve been with lots of women.”

“I’m fine, really. I’m so thankful. And you’re so beautiful, and so nice, and I just hope that when we see each other again we won’t feel funny.” I bite my lip. “And I’m rambling and nervous and excited, and…I’ll shut up now.”

She laughs. “I think we were pretty straight up with each other. I’m not looking
for a girlfriend, and hopefully now you’ll feel confident enough to go after the one girl you really want.”

“
If
she’s into girls.” I roll my eyes like it’s no big deal, but I hope and pray Ashley is not just into girls, but into
me
.

“You won’t know unless you try, and life’s too short not to go after what you want.”

After we hug goodbye I head to my Jeep. The air feels lighter and
my head feels clearer than it ever has. I start up the Jeep, and as much as I want to drive straight over to Ashley’s and share this feeling with her, I don’t. It doesn’t feel right to be with her after being with Janessa. I drive home with the windows down and the cool night air blowing through my hair. It isn’t until I reach my house that guilt sneaks in, stealing the excitement of my newfound pleasure
like a thief.

~Ashley~

ENDLESS SUMMER SURF Shop is located a block away from the boardwalk. It’s painted bright yellow with a huge sign out front featuring a surfer riding a wave. Every morning we line up a display of surfboards out front and wheel one of the sale racks out to the sidewalk. We have a bike rack out front for customers to chain up their bikes while they shop. Between
the brightly colored surfboards and the yellow building, our shop is easy to spot, even from a distance. One of the coolest things about working here is that when we aren’t busy, Brent Steele, the owner and an amazing surfer, lets me set up a chair and paint in front of the store. Some days I just leave my easel there and go outside for a few minutes here or there.

I’m sitting out front of
the shop now, thinking about Delilah. Ever since we began meeting on the dunes, I wake before the alarm, and on the mornings we don’t meet, like this morning, the day is not nearly as bright.

I leaf through my sketch pad, trying to find the picture of Delilah I started yesterday morning. At least I’ll see her tonight. Cassidy and Brooke planned a birthday party for my friend Brandon Owens.
He’s the one who introduced me to Delilah at the beginning of the summer.

Brandon and I went to college together. We met the first week of our freshman year, and we clicked right away. He’s a tough nut, all attitude and hard edges, but there’s a softer side to Brandon that I don’t think many people get to see. I don’t know why he let me into his inner circle, but I’m glad he did. I would never
have come to Harborside or met Delilah if it weren’t for him. Brandon’s from Harborside, and after I had a really bad breakup, Brandon suggested that I move to Harborside instead of going home to Rhode Island. I love my family, but nothing beats living at the beach. I’ve been living in an apartment down the road for almost a year and have fallen in love with everything about the town and all
the friends I’ve made.

Brandon’s sort of living at Delilah’s now. He crashes there almost every night. All of Brandon’s friends, many of whom are also Delilah’s friends, accepted me into their group pretty easily. And now that Delilah and Wyatt decided to sell their house in Connecticut and stay in Harborside, I like it here even more.

I find the sketch I was working on and begin refining
the arch of Delilah’s slim eyebrows. Her hair is blonder than mine and silkier. Mine’s dirty blond and longer than Delilah’s. Sometimes the urge to run my fingers through her hair is so strong that I have to shove my hands in my pockets, or if we’re on the dunes, I have to put them beneath my thighs. And when we’re at my place? That’s the most difficult, because while we’re watching movies or
sitting on the balcony overlooking the ocean, all I can think about is taking her into my bedroom. It’s really bad. If I knew she was a lesbian, I’d feel better, because I’d just do all those things I want to do. Not knowing is killing me.

Ugh
. I hate this feeling.

 I gaze at the sketch and move from her delicate eyebrows to the shading around her expressive eyes—the eyes that I nearly
fell into yesterday morning. I tell myself the same thing I’ve been telling myself all summer.
The next time she looks at me like that, I’m just going to kiss her.

Give up my fear of her being straight and just do it.

I look up at the sound of a motorcycle and see Brent’s twin brother, Jesse, parking in front of the shop. He’s good friends with Delilah, too, and very protective of her.
I imagine myself kissing her and Delilah pushing away, her green eyes wide and appalled. And then I imagine Jesse’s thick dark brows lowering into an angry slash.

Okay, so I won’t kiss her
.

It was a stupid idea anyway. You don’t just kiss a girl, especially if you aren’t sure if she’s straight or not. Been there, done that. It’s an embarrassing situation that there’s no easy way out of,
like asking a woman if she’s pregnant when she’s not.

“Hey, Ash. Is my brother around?” Jesse’s tall and broad with shoulder-length dark hair, several tattoos, and a well-manicured beard and mustache. Although he and Brent are twins, Jesse’s face is harder, his expressions more serious than Brent’s. Jesse also always wears jeans and boots, which I don’t understand given that he lives at the
beach. But then again, I don’t understand the leather band he wears around his thick wrist or the chain that hooks to his wallet, either.

“He was in the back when I came outside.” I notice a guy heading for the shop and tuck my sketch pad and pencil into my backpack. “I’ll go in with you.”

“Are you going to Brandon’s party tonight?” I ask as he pulls the door open.

Jesse’s dark eyes
run over the racks of clothing and surfboards lined up against the far wall and finally land on his equally tall and long-haired brother helping a customer in the back of the shop.

“I wouldn’t miss it. You?” He’s watching Brent intently as he asks.

“Absolutely. See you there.”

He’s already on the move toward his brother.  

The guy I noticed outside comes into the shop talking on
his cell phone. He’s tall, with sun-streaked blond hair, lean and muscular, and walks with a definite surfer swagger. He shoves his phone in the pocket of his board shorts, and I do my job.

“Hi. Is there anything I can help you find?”