Love Hate Relationship

Chapter 42

Meanwhile, back on the toilet, Clarke had lost all inhibitions, as she invited Lexa's hands to wander up her shirt, or up her shorts, she lost track of them, they moved around so quickly. And she wanted them everywhere at once. Lexa's lips had moved down her neck and onto Clarke's chest by this time, kissing and nipping through her golf shirt, and Clarke was moaning wildly, a couple of "oh god's" slipped from her lips, as she was transported back to every dream she'd had in the past months. All thoughts of a kissing contest long forgotten as things had escalated almost to a point of no return.

Suddenly, they heard the creak of the door shutting, and they both froze. Somehow, that soft sound penetrated the sexual haze that enveloped them. Lexa slowly peeked around Clarke, and Clarke slowly looked back at the door.

"What was that?" Clarke asked in a hushed tone.

"I don't know."

"Did you hear it? Fuck, did someone come in?" Clarke asked in a panicky voice.

Lexa got momentarily distracted when she realized one set of her fingers was pressing on Clarke's soaked panties, and the other set was ensconced firmly underneath her bra. She was literally touching Clarke's breast right now. Her bandaged thumb was motionless over her nipple. And she had no idea how that happened. Did they really get this far? Did they get this carried away? She prayed for time to stand still. She just needed a couple more minutes so she could take full advantage of what was in front of her, but she sensed Clarke's agitation, and she reluctantly pulled her hand out from under Clarke's shirt, but not before her thumb brushed against her nipple one last time.

Clarke quickly looked down at her. "Really?"

"Sorry, it was a reflex." She quickly slipped the other hand out from the panty zone.

"You and your reflexes."

Clarke was flustered. She stood up, and adjusted her clothing. "We better get out of here, let's go, they're gonna be asking questions, I just know it," she mumbled as she made her way towards the door, already trying to formulate excuses in her head.

Lexa stood slowly, legs feeling heavy, still in a daze. She took stock of the bathroom as she left, it looked like a small bomb went off. Maybe she should tidy up.

"Hurry up, they're gonna wonder what took us so long," Clarke called out to her as she rushed to the golf cart.

Lexa came out of the bathroom, moving as quickly as her quaking legs could take her.

"C'mon, let's go." Clarke felt the urgent need to put as much distance as possible between them and the bathroom. Hoping to leave whatever happened in there far behind. She took her seat in the cart, impatiently waiting for Lexa.

Lexa sat down heavily, and just stared at her. She needed to process. "Well that escalated quickly," she said.

Clarke brushed some imaginary dirt off her shorts. "Perhaps we got a little carried away." She waved her hand, "Let's go."

"I think we can put that argument to bed."

"What argument? C'mon, drive."

"Who's the better kisser. I mean, I know I make women weak in the knees and all, but Jesus."

Clarke jammed on the brakes in her head, and all thoughts of rushing off came to a screeching halt. "Oh, so you think it was your kiss that caused the escalation?"

"Absolutely."

"My, my, my, that oversized ego of yours strikes again." She looked at Lexa, her baby blues a blazin'. "It was clearly my kiss. It was my last kiss that sent us over the edge."