Page 101 of Deliverance

“Maggie, I never asked for your help.” She interjects.

“Yes, you did,” I respond. “Maybe not with your words, but you asked for help many times. I was too bitter and hurt and spiteful and I…I’m so sorry, Bridgette,” I say with a shake of my head as my eyes come to hers.

She gives me a tight smile and an uneasy shrug.

“But I’m here now,” I say as I slip my hand in hers, squeezing her fingers. “Brad and I are both here and we aren’t going anywhere, okay?”

Her eyes stay on mine as she nods and swallows roughly, squeezing my hand back. I smile at her and it seems to pull a small smile of her own out. Soon, that smile slips, as a seriousness takes over her face. I feel my own mirror her expression before she’s leaning forward. I’m ashamed to admit I let her come almost all the way before I pull back. The rejection splashed across her face physically hurts my heart, but I can’t. Fuck how I wish I could.

“I’m sorry, B. I can’t. I…I have a girlfriend,” I say.

She looks away, pulling her hand from mine as she nods.

“Of course. I’m sorry. I…I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“It’s okay,” I say.

We sit there quietly for a moment before she speaks again.

“Do you love her?”

I hesitate. Mainly because how do I tell her no? How do I tell her that I’ve only loved one person? That I only figured out that I loved that person after I lost them, and no matter the good times I have with anyone else, they don’t compare. How do I tell her that the only person I ever have and probably ever will love…is her?

Her crystal blue eyes move, meeting mine as they shimmer with emotion and a twinge of hope. I should put that hope out immediately. It would be better for the both of us. Things with us are too messy, there is too much at stake, and given her current mental state and hell, maybe even mine, it’s not a good idea.

“Do you love her?” Bridgette repeats. “It’s a simple question, Maggie,” she whispers.

My eyes bounce back and forth between her eyes and her mouth. Her pink lips are so full, so soft. They are practically fucking taunting me, and I can’t look away. She moves slowly, so slow that I don’t even realize she’s this close to me until her lips bump against mine. It’s a testing move, a questioning one. It’s a move that allows me all the time in the world to come to my senses. Ask me if I do, though.

Slipping my hand behind her head, I crush my lips against hers, keeping her pressed against me. Fireworks, literal fireworks, flash behind my eyes, and a piece I knew was missing but never thought I would get to hold again clicks in place. Bridgette’s hands roam over me as she climbs on top of me, our kiss sloppy and needy. Like we can’t get close enough. Like if we ever stop, we’ll be ripped away from one another for good. That almost happened, right where I’m laying and I still can’t get over it.

“I thought I lost you,” I cry as she peppers my neck with kisses. “I thought I’d have to live in this shitty world without you.”

“Never, baby. Never,” she promises as her hands move to my shirt, pulling it up and over my head before unhooking my bra.

My breasts spill free and she cups them both before wrapping her mouth around one of my nipples, swirling her tongue around it as I moan.

“Fuck, B.”

She hums against my skin, giving the other breast equal attention as her hands move down to my leggings, hooking the waistband and dragging them down my legs. Her hand runs over my cotton thong, and she moans against me before releasing my nipple.

“Baby, you’ve soaked right through your panties.”

“How can I not when I’m with you?” I admit, cupping her face as I look at her.

She smiles at me. A real, genuine smile that takes my breath away. I wish she could always look like this. So happy, so light. I wish I could be the one to always keep that look on her face.

Leaning down, she presses her lips against me as her fingers slip beneath my soaked fabric. Pushing two inside me, she curls her fingers up for a moment before pulling them out again. Fuck, this is so wrong. I need to stop this. I have a girlfriend and I’m laying here naked with my kind of ex/stepsister who just got out of the hospital. This is twenty different ways of fucked up. I’m not this person.

When Bridgette wiggles out of her pants and pulls off her shirt, though, all my morals go straight out the window.

I look at her flawless body pressed against mine as my hands come to her hips. She grinds against my thigh, spreading her wetness all over me when I groan.

“Get up here, ride my face.”

She quickly clammers up my body, turning around at the last minute.

“What are you?—”