forearm, her fingers spasming erratically as her hips surged into Mitchell’s palm. “Can’t. Can’t stop.”
Mitchell held her breath, intent on capturing every sigh as Sandy climbed toward her climax. She stroked harder, faster, knowing it was too late to do anything but bring Sandy the release her body screamed for. At the first rolling tremor, she filled her, and the sudden pressure drove her over.
“Oh, Dell,” Sandy sobbed. “Good…so good…so good.”
Mitchell stayed inside her long after the contractions ended and Sandy curled against her, moaning quietly. Even so intimately joined, Mitchell ached to be closer. “I love you.”
“If I touch you,” Sandy said, her voice lazy with pleasure, “will you promise not to move?”
Mitchell laughed. “Sure.”
“I mean it, rookie. If you so much as twitch, I’ll stop. I’m not going to risk hurting your leg just so you can get off.”
“I’m a cop. I have perfect control.”
“Oh yeah? Let’s see about that.”
Mitchell held out longer than she thought she could, and when she finally broke under the tender torture of Sandy’s hands, Sandy held her tightly and kept her safe. Just as Mitchell knew she would.
Chapter Six
“Oops, sorry.” Sandy stumbled to a stop just inside the kitchen alcove, staring at the woman across the room and wondering how to disappear. The loft was so quiet she’d thought she and Dell were the only ones there. Glad I put clothes on.
Michael turned from the stove with a half smile and an inquiring expression. “Hi. I’m Michael.”
“Oh, so you’re Sloan’s…” Sandy hesitated, because girlfriend didn’t seem to suit the classy woman who managed to look Cosmo-beautiful even barefoot and wearing nothing but a black silk robe.
“Yes, I’m Sloan’s, all right,” Michael answered with a laugh. “And I guess you’re Sandy?”
“Yeah. Look, I didn’t mean to bother you. I’ll just—”
“I was about to make some tea. Would you like some?”
Tea. Although what she’d been in the mood for was a beer, Sandy nodded. Trying not to be too obvious, she studied Michael in the dim glow of the overhead track lights. The woman looked very pale and unsteady on her feet. Sandy knew what had happened to her, but until that moment she’d never appreciated how serious the injury had been. “You should probably sit down. I can do the tea, if you tell me where the stuff is.”
“I’ve been trying to become more self-sufficient,” Michael said, smiling wanly.
“Why?” Sandy asked as she padded over to the stove, suddenly conscious of how she must look. She’d pulled on Mitchell’s jeans and T-shirt, and both hung loosely from her smaller frame. Barefoot, too, she was a head shorter than Michael.
“I hate being sick, and I’m tired of Sloan taking care of me.” Michael leaned against the marble counter. “The tea is in that box over there.”
“Sloan probably doesn’t mind,” Sandy said, as she studied the rows of tea bags neatly lined up in the slotted wooden case. She didn’t recognize any of the names.
“I mind. And she’s got enough things to worry about without me adding to it.”
Catching the obvious note of frustration in the other woman’s voice, Sandy glanced over her shoulder at Michael. “It hasn’t been all that long, right? Since you got out of the hospital?”
“About a week.” Michael pushed a hand through her shoulder-length blond hair. “God, it feels like forever. I just can’t seem to…think clearly.”
“That happens when you’ve been knocked around. It’ll get better.”
Michael’s eyes moved to the pink scar on Sandy’s forehead. “It’s not fun, though, until it does, is it?”
“Nope. So…are some of these, like…special?” She tilted her chin toward the box. “Peppermint? Sleepy Time?”
“I’m not much on the flavored ones, myself. Would you rather have something else? There’s soda or…” She hesitated, starting to assess Sandy’s age
Mitchell held her breath, intent on capturing every sigh as Sandy climbed toward her climax. She stroked harder, faster, knowing it was too late to do anything but bring Sandy the release her body screamed for. At the first rolling tremor, she filled her, and the sudden pressure drove her over.
“Oh, Dell,” Sandy sobbed. “Good…so good…so good.”
Mitchell stayed inside her long after the contractions ended and Sandy curled against her, moaning quietly. Even so intimately joined, Mitchell ached to be closer. “I love you.”
“If I touch you,” Sandy said, her voice lazy with pleasure, “will you promise not to move?”
Mitchell laughed. “Sure.”
“I mean it, rookie. If you so much as twitch, I’ll stop. I’m not going to risk hurting your leg just so you can get off.”
“I’m a cop. I have perfect control.”
“Oh yeah? Let’s see about that.”
Mitchell held out longer than she thought she could, and when she finally broke under the tender torture of Sandy’s hands, Sandy held her tightly and kept her safe. Just as Mitchell knew she would.
Chapter Six
“Oops, sorry.” Sandy stumbled to a stop just inside the kitchen alcove, staring at the woman across the room and wondering how to disappear. The loft was so quiet she’d thought she and Dell were the only ones there. Glad I put clothes on.
Michael turned from the stove with a half smile and an inquiring expression. “Hi. I’m Michael.”
“Oh, so you’re Sloan’s…” Sandy hesitated, because girlfriend didn’t seem to suit the classy woman who managed to look Cosmo-beautiful even barefoot and wearing nothing but a black silk robe.
“Yes, I’m Sloan’s, all right,” Michael answered with a laugh. “And I guess you’re Sandy?”
“Yeah. Look, I didn’t mean to bother you. I’ll just—”
“I was about to make some tea. Would you like some?”
Tea. Although what she’d been in the mood for was a beer, Sandy nodded. Trying not to be too obvious, she studied Michael in the dim glow of the overhead track lights. The woman looked very pale and unsteady on her feet. Sandy knew what had happened to her, but until that moment she’d never appreciated how serious the injury had been. “You should probably sit down. I can do the tea, if you tell me where the stuff is.”
“I’ve been trying to become more self-sufficient,” Michael said, smiling wanly.
“Why?” Sandy asked as she padded over to the stove, suddenly conscious of how she must look. She’d pulled on Mitchell’s jeans and T-shirt, and both hung loosely from her smaller frame. Barefoot, too, she was a head shorter than Michael.
“I hate being sick, and I’m tired of Sloan taking care of me.” Michael leaned against the marble counter. “The tea is in that box over there.”
“Sloan probably doesn’t mind,” Sandy said, as she studied the rows of tea bags neatly lined up in the slotted wooden case. She didn’t recognize any of the names.
“I mind. And she’s got enough things to worry about without me adding to it.”
Catching the obvious note of frustration in the other woman’s voice, Sandy glanced over her shoulder at Michael. “It hasn’t been all that long, right? Since you got out of the hospital?”
“About a week.” Michael pushed a hand through her shoulder-length blond hair. “God, it feels like forever. I just can’t seem to…think clearly.”
“That happens when you’ve been knocked around. It’ll get better.”
Michael’s eyes moved to the pink scar on Sandy’s forehead. “It’s not fun, though, until it does, is it?”
“Nope. So…are some of these, like…special?” She tilted her chin toward the box. “Peppermint? Sleepy Time?”
“I’m not much on the flavored ones, myself. Would you rather have something else? There’s soda or…” She hesitated, starting to assess Sandy’s age
Similar Books
