When I came back to consciousness, I was still leaning against the wall, stark naked. My skin gleamed with perspiration, and my hair half-covered my face, tickling my cheeks and brow.
Jennel slowly stood up, her lips parted and her breathing quick and light. She stroked the hair back from my face, touching my lips. I sensed her hesitation, and drew her to me with shaking hands, kissing her deeply and tasting myself on her mouth. She melted into me. "God, Demi," she sighed against my mouth when we came up for air. "You have no idea how long I've been thinking about doing that to you, if I ever got to meet you." I looked at her, managing a shaky smile. "Well...um...glad you got the chance." She laughed - I loved her laugh. It was low and rippling, smug and delighted.
Then a thought came to me. "Um, Jennel..." She nodded, still stroking my face, watching my eyes and lips, her body pressed against mine. "You didn't...this wasn't...what I said about your mom, I mean..." I stammered, looking down. "This...I mean, if it was just about..."
When Jennel answered, it wasn't just to deny it, or even to kiss the question away. Instead, her voice was low and thoughtful, as if she hadn't really thought about it, or it hadn't really made since to her before now. "It wasn't revenge...it wasn't anger," she went on, almost clinically.
I looked up at her.
She met my eyes with hers again. "I just wanted you." I stared at her. "Why?" I blurted out. Even my ego wasn't prepared for that.
She grinned. "Are you kidding? Eleanor was incredible - I mean, who wouldn't want a woman like that? I didn't know if I was...you know...or whatever, but...I thought, if she was like that, anyone she thought was as amazing as she talked about you being...then if I ever got to..." Her voice trailed off. "To see..." She tried again, her eyes oddly lost. "So, I was a test?" I asked, confused. "No," she said quickly. "Well," she frowned, "not...not really. I mean, sure, you were a fantasy," she admitted, running her hands down my sides, glancing down at my body, her lips parting again and curling in a smug little smile. "Well, that's good," I said lamely.
She grinned again, looking quickly back up at me. Her eyes sparkled in the dim light. "Yes. It was. I've..." She blushed - for the first time, I realized with some amazement. "I've never...it's never been like that." "Tell me about it," I said dryly.
She laughed, leaning in, hugging me. "I...I just wanted you." I nodded slowly, awkwardly patting her back, and she melted slightly against me. I pulled her close, comforted suddenly by the warmth and closeness of her, the intimacy of sharing something so intense.
That may have been a mistake. When I pulled her in, I had forgotten that her skirt was bunched up and my legs were still open. As she returned the embrace, her mound brushed mine, and I felt silky soft hairs against mine, wet slippery skin against mine.
We both drew in a very quick breath. That heat ignited again, as bright and hot as before.
She pulled back enough to meet my eyes. "I have a hotel room to myself." Her voice was matter-of-fact, but there was an intensity blazing behind her eyes that took my breath away. "I live alone," I shot back, "with a whirlpool tub." "Sold."
I woke with a delicious, languorous slowness - and my mind immediately clicked on something odd. I was not being spooned from behind, as I had become used to waking up recently. Instead, a soft, black head was pillowed on my stomach. My hand rested on those black locks, and I felt satiny skin against my leg and hip. Memory surged back to me.
Images flashed through my head. Pushing Jennel up against my door and kissing her while fumbling with my keys. The trail of clothes probably still strewn between my front door and the bed. Lying in the whirlpool with her back against my chest, letting my hands explore and massage. Watching her slick, wet body writhing atop me. The longest, slowest, most luxuriously pleasurable 69 of my life.
