Page 93 of Dream On, Ramona Riley

Dylan groaned against her neck, then forced herself to stop, laced their fingers together again, and all but took off running.

Ramona laughed, running with her, and by the time they scrambled through the town and up the front steps of Dylan’s little mint-green bungalow at the edge of the lake, Dylan was very, very close to ripping off Ramona’s clothes and taking her right there on the porch.

She unlocked the door and let them inside. The room was mostly dark, lit only by the light above the stove in the open kitchen, the full moon streaming in through the windows. All the furniture and art on the walls looked metallic in the silvery glow.

“Do you want something to drink?” Dylan asked, setting down her keys on the glass-and-teak end table by the sofa. “Or eat?”

Ramona just smiled at her. Laughed lightly, like a bell tinkling. “Yeah,” she said softly, but then she took Dylan’s hand and led her toward the hallway, weaving past the closed doors until she found the main bedroom at the end of the hall, which was clearly Dylan’s from the unmade bed and suitcase that looked like it had exploded all over the room.

Dylan felt a swell of nerves as they entered the room. It wasn’t like she didn’t know what she was doing in the bedroom—she was pretty experienced with people who had vaginas, but this was…

Well, it was Ramona.

It wasCherry.

And it was the first time, and Dylan was always a little nervous the first time. Her last first time had been with Jocelyn, of course, over a year ago, and Jocelyn was such a dominant top, Dylan barely had to make any decisions at all.

Which she liked.

But she also liked being the one who called the shots. When it came to sex, she’d known she was a switch for a long time, she just hadn’t had the opportunity to top anyone in a while. Before Jocelyn, there was Jackson, and he was a bit of a top himself, a little tooI’m a manfor her taste. And now with Ramona standing in front of thebed, so soft and sweet and, Jesus, so, so sexy, Dylan knew exactly what her taste was.

Exactly what she wanted.

Whomshe wanted.

And god, Ramona was gorgeous. She just wanted to lay her out on the bed and look at her. Study her like a work of art.

“So…” Ramona said, drawing closer, her hand still holding Dylan’s. She twisted up her mouth, shy, and so fucking cute Dylan had to grin.

“So,” Dylan said, then pulled Ramona into her arms. She tucked a piece of hair behind Ramona’s ear, kissed her once. “Can I tell you what I want?”

Ramona sucked in a breath. “God, yeah.”

“And you tell me if I ask for anything you don’t like, okay?” Dylan said. “I want to know what you want too.”

Ramona just nodded, bit that perfect bottom lip of hers.

Dylan and Jocelyn had safe words, traffic light words, really—redfor stop andyellowfor slow andgreenfor go—and Dylan always liked that. She appreciated that Jocelyn, so bossy and in charge in the bedroom, made space for Dylan’s comfort. Sexually, she’d learned a lot from Jocelyn, despite the awful way it ended, despite the fact that Dylan had no idea whether Jocelyn ever really liked her forher, or just what Jack Monroe could give her.

Still, as she stood in her moonlit bedroom, Ramona in her arms, she wanted to give the same to Ramona. Make space, even if they didn’t end up needing any safe words or had the most vanilla sex in the world—vanilla sex with Ramona would be amazing, she had no doubt.

“Can we talk about some safe words, then?” Dylan asked.

Ramona’s brows went up. “Yeah. Absolutely.”

Dylan nodded, then explained about the stoplight words. She felt her cheeks warm as she did so, not because she was embarrassed,but because she couldn’t help but picture Ramona’s head tilted back, her lovely throat exposed, crying out,Green, green, green, while Dylan made her come.

Jesus, she was sweating.

“That sounds perfect,” Ramona said. Then slipped her fingers under Dylan’s tee. “Now can I please take this shirt off?”

Dylan laughed. “Green.”

Ramona smiled, then lifted Dylan’s tee above her head, threw it in a corner. The ceiling fan was on, cooling Dylan’s heated skin. She had on a lacy blush-pink bralette that was a touch too small, her C-cup breasts spilling over the top. Ramona drifted her fingers over her skin, slid a thumb down to Dylan’s already peaked nipple.

Dylan couldn’t stop the moan that came out of her mouth but tried to focus. “Your turn,” she said, playing with the top button of Ramona’s blouse.

“Very green,” Ramona said.