Speed Demons (22 page)

Pretending to unpack her tech purchases, she spent a few hours in the guest room, trying to muster interest in them. She looked at the gadgets and felt nothing of the happiness she’d experienced when she bought them. The void in her seemed to grow into an abyss, a crevasse of unknown depth. It wasn’t so much her past, her adolescent trauma, but the fact that she just couldn’t speak to Evie. Not being able to communicate with the woman she was meant to document was bad enough. Not being able to reach the woman she’d come to care about was even worse.

I’m not helping. I’m doing exactly the opposite.
Emotional outbursts like this might damage Evie’s focus and screw up her concentration. She couldn’t live with herself if she caused another person’s injury. Especially not Evie. The hours she had spent sitting by her concussed brother’s bedside had marked her. Having to do that again, with Evie, for something she’d done, or could have avoided, would kill her.

Her heart hammering, she walked to the door and saw Evie sitting on the couch in the living room. “Evie?” she said quietly.

“Not now, Blythe, okay?” Evie kept her eyes locked on the computer screen. “I’m busy.”

“Okay. Sorry.” She tiptoed to the kitchen and grabbed a quick sandwich and some instant coffee. It didn’t have any taste. Finishing it off with a glass of water to rid herself of the lump in her throat, she passed Evie, who typed fast with an intense expression. Perhaps she was chatting with one of her friends. Probably telling them about the hopeless photographer she was stuck with. Perhaps it was time to find other accommodations after all?

“I’m going to bed. Good night.” She didn’t wait for a reply but closed the door. She felt sick inside, her stomach rolling in nauseous waves. She wished she’d been able to dig for the courage she needed to talk to Evie. Her entire being seemed to be locked inside some self-induced cage. Not even her usual method of trying to picture the worst-case scenario worked. She couldn’t even imagine what Evie would say after all the disdainful words she’d thrown at her earlier.

She showered, hot water to scorch any residual pain away, but couldn’t stop trembling. She put on sweatpants and a long T-shirt that dwarfed her completely, but she didn’t care. Tugging the bedspread and blankets tightly around her, she was pretty certain sleep wouldn’t come, but at least she was warm.

*

Evie stood in the hallway and looked at the closed door to the guest room. When Blythe had said good night, she had assumed she’d still sleep in her room. Clearly she had underestimated how angry Blythe was. Or hurt. Or both. She had somehow overstepped some invisible boundary with Blythe. She hadn’t realized just how open the wound was regarding Blythe’s family. Since she had shared the embarrassing scenes with her own father and grandfather, and confided in Blythe, she’d thought it would be the same for Blythe to reciprocate that trust. Obviously a mistake.

Suddenly so tired and with a budding anger simmering, she pivoted and walked into her bedroom. Only her sheer terror of sleeping in confined quarters made her keep the door open.

After completing her evening ritual, she climbed into the bed, which seemed too big and too cold without Blythe there. She curled up in the center of it, hugging a pillow close to her stomach. Too late, she realized it was Blythe’s pillow, and the other woman’s scent surrounded her, filled her senses.

She whimpered and pressed her lips against the pillow in her arms. She inhaled greedily, wishing she could wrap her arms around Blythe instead. She wanted to tuck Blythe in under her chin, hold her tight, and just feel safe.

Instead she tugged impatiently at the covers, pulling them up almost over her head. With the darkness lit up only by the night-light, she worried about nightmares and what tomorrow would bring. No matter what, she had to clear the air with Blythe before she resumed her training. Any distractions could be fateful when you drove an average of more than 200 miles per hour.

Evie thought of how Blythe had displayed such loyalty when Mal and Harrison showed up. It cut deep that Blythe wouldn’t let her help, let her in, the same way. Sure, they hadn’t signed any agreement to share alike; that was a utopian idea anyway. Life didn’t work like that. Then again, until lately, she hadn’t thought life would bring her a person like Blythe. Was it perhaps a sign that when they were on the same page, life was wonderful, and when things went awry, it was pure hell? And if that was the case, what kind of half-assed sign was that? It didn’t tell her anything. Unless fate was just wagging its tongue at her, thumbs in its ears with fingers spread.

Eventually she fell into an uneasy sleep, clinging to the pillow while whispering Blythe’s name.

*

Evie sat up in bed, her heart pounding so hard she could hear it as well as feel it. She tried to judge what woke her up. The wind hit the window, but she didn’t think that was it. Then a hard bang, a resounding thunder, echoed across the water. A thunderstorm.

She drew a deep breath. Blythe. Blythe hated thunderstorms. She threw off the covers and got up. After she hurried across the floor, she opened Blythe’s door, not even thinking to knock first. She squinted into the darkened room, only lit up by the faint light from her own room across the hallway. A small figure sat huddled against the pillows, her face a pale oval in the darkness.

“Sweetie. You okay?” She sat down carefully on the bed. Grasping Blythe’s hand, she was shocked at how cold it was. “You should’ve come to me. You hate thunder.”

“I…you were mad at me, and I couldn’t bring myself to…” Blythe drew a deep breath and shuddered as another bolt of lightning lit up the room, immediately followed by a deafening thunder. “Oh!”

“I’m not mad. Not at all.” It was true, she thought as she climbed onto the bed. She scooted under the covers, needing to be close to Blythe, to help her not be afraid. “I was hurt and definitely thought you were angry. I should’ve talked to you last night, but I’m here now.”

“Thank God.” Blythe pushed her face against Evie’s neck. “I’m sorry for acting the way I did. So immature of me.”

“Hey, you weren’t the only immature one. I think we both regressed.”

“Yeah.” Blythe flinched at the next bolt of lightning. “So glad you’re here.” Her teeth actually clattered.

“I am, and I’m not going anywhere.” She rubbed her hands up and down Blythe’s back and side. “Feel me?”

“I do. I certainly do.” Blythe pressed her lips against the pulse point on her neck. “Mmm. Keep it up, please?”

She moaned. Her nipples tightened as she ran her hands along Blythe’s body, slipping them underneath her T-shirt. She had longed to do this again, to feel Blythe pressed against her and to hear the sounds Blythe made when passion gripped her.

“Mmm.” Blythe arched into her hands. “You’re like fire. Hot.”

“And you…are soft.” She pulled Blythe’s T-shirt over her head and threw it on the floor. “I want to taste you so badly.” Pressing her legs together, she tried to calm her libido, to focus on Blythe. What had started as a way to distract her was now all about pleasure.

“Don’t let me stop you.” Blythe cupped her cheeks. “Where would you like to start?”

More thunder boomed, and even though Blythe jumped, she didn’t look panicked.

“Hmm. Right here.” She pressed her lips to Blythe’s, sliding her tongue along them, parting them. She deepened the kiss, tasting Blythe’s tongue, the roof of her mouth, the inside of her lips, everything. She wasn’t disappointed. It was even better than she remembered. Soft, yielding, but oh so thirsty, Blythe returned the kisses feverishly, whimpering deliciously the whole time.

Reluctantly, she allowed her mouth to travel down Blythe’s neck, across her chest, only to latch onto her left breast. Her nipple, impossibly hard and swollen, puckered even more when she sucked it. She turned her head slightly, used her molars to chew, just enough to illicit a tiny flicker of pain. When Blythe yelped, she used her tongue to soothe and repeated the maneuvers several times before she moved on to the right nipple. When it seemed that Blythe couldn’t take much more of the attention to her breasts, she continued her journey down Blythe’s body.

“Oh. Oh!” Blythe became rigid when she nuzzled the blond curls at the apex of her thighs. “I…no. I haven’t.” She wasn’t making sense, but the tone in her voice, tinged with stress, made Evie stop and look up.

“What’s wrong, sweetie?”

“God. I’m embarrassed.” Blythe covered her face with her hand. “I’m so turned on. I’m sure you can tell.”

“That’s all right. That’s how it should be. Nothing to be embarrassed about.” Was Blythe really shy about being wet? Evie frowned. That didn’t make sense. When they’d made love the previous time, they’d both been very wet.

“No. Not that. I’m not as experienced as you…um, might be. I’ve only tried
that
once. It didn’t work.”

She moved up and removed Blythe’s hand from her face. “What do you mean?”

“Touching me. Going down on me. Don’t think it works.” Blythe avoided her glance.

“I’m not claiming to be an expert, but I’d like to try, as long as it doesn’t turn you off.” Smiling tenderly, she kissed the palm of Blythe’s hand, tickling it with the tip of her tongue.

“All right. Just so you know.” Blythe’s voice quivered.

“Shh. I’m focusing.” And she wasn’t joking. She was absorbed by the texture and the scent of Blythe. She nudged Blythe’s legs apart and moved in between them. Looking up at Blythe, she caressed her thighs, slowly, gently. “Let me know if you don’t like it. Okay?”

“Okay,” Blythe whispered.

Thunder, more distant, but loud enough to make Blythe flinch, rolled along the horizon. Evie pushed her shoulders underneath Blythe’s thighs, kissing the soft skin on the inside of them. “Soft. So soft.” She ran her tongue over the velvety skin, and every time she reached the slick folds between Blythe’s legs, she simply moved to another spot, nuzzling, kissing, licking, and nipping. Eventually, Blythe tugged at her hair, her breath ragged.

“You’re teasing me. Just do it. Please. Please.”

“Happy to.” She spread Blythe’s folds with careful fingers. Encouraged by the amount of wetness, she began the intimate caresses, from the top where Blythe’s swollen clitoris throbbed under her tongue, to the source of the wetness, the core of Blythe’s sex. She started out very gently, but soon found that Blythe responded well to a firmer touch. She loved the taste of her lover, reveled in it as she twirled her tongue and sucked at the tender folds. She placed the tip of her index finger at Blythe’s entrance, moving it in a slow circle.

“Yes. Inside. Take me. I need you to take me.” Blythe’s voice was so hoarse now, it was barely recognizable. “Evangeline…”

“Mine.” She pushed her finger inside and the tightness pulsated around her. “Oh, God, Blythe, you’re soaked. You’re so hot.”

“Burning,” Blythe muttered.

She resumed licking Blythe’s clit, circling it as she let her finger circle inside her. Her own sex created so much wetness that it should’ve been embarrassing, but she could think of nothing but pleasuring Blythe. Blythe’s heels dug into her back and she had to hold on to her hips to not lose her grip of her. She added another finger and Blythe drew a howling breath before hyperventilating.

“Too much?” She looked up at Blythe.

“No. Good. Burning, but good. So good. So good.” Blythe undulated, rode her intrusive fingers in a flowing motion back and forth. Every time Blythe pushed toward her, she licked her clit. When Blythe made a keening, wailing sound and pressed harder onto her fingers, she decided it was time. The slick walls around her fingers were fluttering. She pressed her open mouth to Blythe’s clit and sucked it in between her lips. Flicking her tongue against it, she heard Blythe cry out.

“Oh. Yes. Evangeline. Yes. Oh. Oh!” Blythe’s muscles held her fingers in a vise, and she was so tense Evie for a frightening moment feared she might fracture her back. Then Blythe slumped backward, ending up in a gasping, sweaty pile among the pillows. Evie slowly pulled her fingers free and moved to hold her tight.

Blythe had something else in mind. “My turn,” she said huskily. “Your turn.”

“Huh?” She stared in disbelief when the deeply satiated Blythe merely rolled her onto her back and moved on top.

“You said I was yours. That goes both ways,” Blythe said, sounding intense. “Spread your legs.” It wasn’t a suggestion.

Happy to oblige, she parted her legs and made room for Blythe.

“I’m no expert. In fact, I’m a total newbie at this. Just your luck.” She looked curiously at Evie’s sex. “I need some light.”

“Really?” Now Evie wondered what she’d gotten herself in to. “That’s not necessary.”

“I want to see what I’m doing, so I know that I’m not hurting you.” Blythe sounded decisive as she switched on the small bedside lamp. It could have been worse. Blythe could have opted for the large ceiling-fan lamp.

“Better,” Blythe said as she repositioned herself between Evie’s legs. She lay down on her stomach with her chin close to Evie’s pubic mound and ran her fingertips along the trimmed hair. “So neat.” She spread the folds and looked closely at the drenched area, long enough to make Evie’s cheeks go hot. They were probably red, and her chest and neck too. Blythe might not know how ready she was, how close she was to coming, but she would soon if she kept up the touching and caressing. This curious fondling was unexpectedly sexy. Naughty, in a strange way.

Blythe suddenly flattened her tongue against Evie’s clitoris and massaged it relentlessly. It was almost too much, too soon, but it was also all it took. The view of the blond, curly head moving between her legs added intensity. She whimpered Blythe’s name, over and over.

Soon, Blythe obviously realized she couldn’t tolerate any more touching of her most sensitive parts. Blythe looked up, smiling her stunning, shy smile. “Good, Evangeline?”

“Any better and I’d be dead.” She held out her arms and Blythe moved quickly up along her body and hugged her.

“Oh, God, Evie. You make me feel so good. So alive.”

“Strange. You do the same for me. Coincidence? I think not.” She pressed her lips against Blythe’s hair. “You’re one sexy woman, Blythe Pierce.”