Those Ocean Eyes

Chapter 22

It's tempting to just rip it off, and Cassie doesn't want to think about why she's taking her time with this; why she isn't just pushing Rachel to the brink and watching her unravel. Cassie's always been a big believer in instant gratification, and yet here she is, revelling in the way that Schwimmer's reacting to her protracted caresses.

She strokes her way up to Schwimmer's breasts, and smiles triumphantly when Rachel's hands fist around her hair. She isn't wearing a bra, and really, she's making this too easy. When Cassie thumbs Rachel's nipples, teasing them until they're impossibly hard; toying with them until they're straining against her palms, Schwimmer bucks off the couch and presses her face into Cassie's shoulder. She gasps when Cassie lifts up her pyjama top, replacing her hands with her mouth, and then she's vocally whimpering her approval.

Schwimmer starts undulating against her, clawing at Cassie's back as she desperately seeks some relief, and Cassie slips a thigh between her legs, generating some much-needed friction. For a moment, she's overcome with a rolling tide of pure sensation, but she still can't help but smile when she realises how wet Rachel is.

"Oh, you're just begging for it, aren't you, Schwimmer?" Cassie breathes into Rachel's ear, reaching for the waistband of Rachel's pants, but then she squawks in disbelief when Rachel grabs her wrists, stopping her in her tracks.

Before she knows what's happening, Cassie's being flipped onto her back and wrestled into a supine position, and Schwimmer's eyeing her determinedly. Cassie can't help but laugh when Rachel attempts to pin her arms against the sofa, though, because the thought of this feisty little thing trying to top her is downright hilarious.

"I'm not letting you touch me until you call me 'Rachel,'" Schwimmer informs her resolutely, but Cassie can't take her seriously when Rachel's eyes covetously rake over her body, focussing on the spot where Cassie's shirt has ridden up over her stomach.

"Well, I guess we'll just have to call it a day, then, Schwimmer," Cassie retorts with her patented smirk, but Rachel's grip tightens, and she regards her defiantly.

"I'm serious," she warns, but her eyelids flutter shut when Cassie lifts her hips, pressing her stomach tantalisingly against the spot where Schwimmer's straddling her.

"OK, fine, Rachel." Cassie adds a mocking lilt to her tone. "Whatever you say."

"Say it like you mean it," Rachel demands, and her eyes are dark and needy and Cassie wants so badly not to give in, but the weight of Rachel pressing against her stomach seems to be exacerbating her arousal, and apparently, she wants this just as much as Schwimmer does. She licks her lips, and realises that she's royally fucked.

"Rachel..." She breathes the name like she's in the throes of ecstasy, like it's some kind of benediction, and when Schwimmer finally lets go of her wrists, Cassandra reaches out with the intention of showing her who's really boss. Then she realises that Schwimmer has her eyes closed, like she's savouring the sound of Cassie addressing her like she's an actual human being, and Cassie's chest tightens painfully. She sits up, cradling Rachel against her, and presses a feather-light kiss against Schwimmer's collarbone. She works her way up, sucking gently on Schwimmer's pulse point, until her lips are grazing the shell of Rachel's ear.

"Rachel," she whispers again, more softly than before, and she cups Schwimmer's chin in her hand, stroking her cheek until Rachel grabs the lapels of her shirt and closes the distance between them. The kiss feels different this time; more raw, more intense; and Cassie realises that she's holding onto Schwimmer almost as tightly as Schwimmer's holding onto her.

When Kurt flings open the front door, Rachel's shirt is halfway over head, and Cassie's unabashedly admiring the view.

"Rachel, I'm so sorry, but you have no idea what that woman put me through. It was like the Spanish Inquisition and the Salem Witch Trials all rolled into one and I... holy crap!"

Cassie nearly rolls sideways off the couch in a desperate bid to make their present position look less incriminating, and Rachel hastily yanks down her top.

"OK, well, I'm going to turn around and maybe... come back later?" Kurt stammers, staring at them in slack-jawed shock.

"Yes, you should leave. Now," Rachel urges him, but Cassie shakes her head, because it suddenly occurs to her how this must look. She's a thirty-three-year-old woman poised to ravish a nineteen-year-old girl – her student, no less - and for all she knows, Schwimmer could still be a virgin. The funny thing is, it's never really bothered her before. She's never really cared enough to consider the consequences.

"It's OK," she tells Kurt, running a hand through her dishevelled hair, because if she's honest, this is all starting to feel like... too much. "I'll go."

"No!" Rachel pleads with her, reaching for her hand, and she looks so devastated, Cassie wouldn't be surprised to find Kurt on a mortuary slab come morning.

"We'll finish this another time," Cassie says quietly, levelling Kurt with a look that would curdle milk. She gently squeezes Schwimmer's hand, and then she walks out of the door. It takes everything she has not to look back.

She manages to make it to the bottom of the stairs, but then she grips the banister convulsively. Her knees are shaking so much, she can barely stand, and she remembers why she hates feeling completely out of control. She knows she'd have to be an idiot of epic proportions to let it happen again, but she just can't seem to say no when it comes to Schwimmer.