Page 49 of Hot Tea & Bird Calls (Kissing At Work #2)

I f Celene expected Skye to withstand the remainder of their evening, she’d pace their sex.

However, witnessing that gorgeous woman grasp at her own tousled hair, singing her praises in the form of colorfully indulgent moans while clinging around Celene’s fingers in erratic beats, this was a difficult feat.

For the sensation itself, Celene slicked her fingers until they were almost out, then dipped in, smiling. “More?”

Skye covered her eyes with a hand, grinning. “Are you serious?”

“I haven’t tasted you yet.”

The ability to fluster easily gave room for Skye to lean upwards, deep eyes glassy. “I’d love that.” She tapped her knees together to halt her thrusts. “I want to see more of you.”

Not a bad idea. While being intimate on the couch served them this far, they’d overheat if they didn’t undress. Pleased with Celene’s nod, Skye unpinned her legs, falling on her back in a slow exhale. Positively spent, and sexily so.

Kissing Skye’s calves, Celene withdrew. She stretched her fingers in the sunlight, turning herself on to a level that left her teetering. Furthermore, when she caught Skye watching her expectantly, beckoning her to lick them. But Celene had other ideas.

She slinked over Skye, fingers glistening and upright. Celene bowed into a loose, hot kiss, as she’d missed those already. She seized Skye’s bottom lip and sucked lavishly.

Years ago, Celene dared to settle. And it’d almost occurred while women like Skye Florentine sat on a tree trunk somewhere, waiting for her. She shook her head from that awful thought to absorb the open affection in Skye’s eyes.

Celene’s heart skipped two beats.

She knew what that meant.

Barring comments that’d take them out of the moment, Celene drawled, firm and smooth, “Pull up your shirt.”

Skye went the extra yard in completely flaking off her blouse, hanging it above her head, onto the couch arm.

“God, I said I wanted to swim in you,” Celene gasped.

She’d gone to Yielding, a town she’d long forgotten, and stumbled upon an absolute marvel.

Intoxicated, Celene kissed both nipples—one still straining under the bra’s thin lace and the other bare from their foreplay.

The latter received the longer kiss, pebbling at the swirl of her tongue.

Arousal shaded Skye’s face again, then magnified in a strangled sob when Celene traced around her nipple with the wet, coated fingertips. “Fuck, who are you?”

Celene bestowed a small, flirty smile. She knew a rhetorically horny question when she heard one.

The best reply was sucking more of the breast into her mouth, moaning not just from the succulent flavor, but for Skye to writhe the way she did whenever Celene voiced her pleasure.

She dedicated long minutes to skating her teeth into tender flesh, complimenting its modest size with murmurs about Skye’s sexiness and the softness of her skin.

“Top off,” Skye urged, on the verge of wriggling for release again, Celene hoped.

That athleisure cutoff was extremely tight; Celene removed it over her head in a firm tug. It’d left a seam print on her skin, but based on Skye’s long lashes batting, that hadn’t blemished the view.

In a trance-like motion, Skye lifted a knee, pressing it into the soaked-through apex of Celene’s tights. She moaned more when Celene slid herself onto her thigh, head drooping languidly, luxuriating in the contact with her center.

“Should I touch you?” Skye asked, tweaking her own nipple in a delicate, absent rhythm.

Celene stopped herself from convulsing at that. God, she adored this woman. “You want to touch me? How?”

Skye licked her lips; Celene was clearly on the menu. “However you want.”

“Mmm, is that right?” Celene reached down and fit two fingertips around Skye’s clit, massaging in loose circles. Skye flinched her eyes shut, as Celene added, “Convince me. Then, I may let you fuck me.”

“I don’t want to fuck you.” Skye gritted, then practically wailed as Celene’s fingers applied more pressure. “I need to fuck you, Celene. It’s all I think about when I’m alone in bed, touching myself. I picture your legs spread for me and your hands in my hair, guiding me.”

Nature Girl was a fucking vixen; praising this, Celene rushed to lie flat on the couch. She placed her fingers back on Skye, then she shoved her mouth onto her center, breaking for a second to breathe, “Tell me more” before obliging herself to persistent, deliberate kisses.

“More torture,” Skye whined, her voice with a humorous but tense lilt. “In my dreams this week, you’re never wearing much. A towel, a robe. Nothing prepared me for what I just saw, good god.”

Celene smiled into Skye’s lower lips, pushing her own fingers out of the way to lick shamelessly. Hellishly sensual, the aroma and mesmerizing richness. “I bought some lingerie for you, too.”

Skye loosely gripped Celene’s hair, her thumb stroking her temple. “Really?”

“Yes, you’ll see.”

“You’re a living sex dream.”

Intent on proving her right, Celene’s tongue insisted deep inside Skye, then pulled out to flick at the angles that earned the harshest yelps.

It’d been relatively easy to pause her sex life, but once her fingers danced up Skye’s leg in that ice cream shoppe, she knew she couldn’t go too much longer without it.

She couldn’t channel any of her flirty energy without her strong attraction to Skye, the forager with the windblown hair.

Soon, Skye’s words melded into an incoherent jumble, devolving to feeble moans that begged Celene to please, please let her come.

Celene quaked, tongue glossing messily in a surge of ecstasy.

That left her with one of her most natural inclinations—to lave until Skye couldn’t hang on anymore.

She slid hands onto the backs of Skye’s thighs, increasing momentum, not stopping until Skye came in a long, harmonic call to the ceiling.

Celene inserted herself between the couch’s back cushion and Skye, collecting herself in short, desperate breaths.

Beguiled and a little concerned, she pressed her hand between Skye’s breasts and shushed in a faint, long drone.

Much like the noise machine. In the haze of their merged scents of perfume and pleasure, Celene guided Skye into deep, soothing lungfuls.

“Thank you,” Skye told her minutes after, desire and what Celene assumed was deference tinting her stare. “You make me feel like a character in a modern tale.”

Celene began to play with Skye’s cabochon, spinning the eye shape between her fingers. “You’d be the main character. A heroine who lured me in the night.”

“But you saved me. ” Skye caught her lips in a kiss that drew chills over Celene’s skin. The kiss of a heroine, steeped further in its eroticism when she broke away with, “I taste so good on you.”

Moaning at this profound arousal, Celene assumed control of their liplock. Needing more of Skye, ecstatic to have a partner who tempted her to have sex all day. She’d forgotten how that felt.

She wouldn’t forget the swells and soft ridges of Skye’s skin, though.

Done with the necklace, Celene journeyed more.

Slowly cupping beneath each breast, skimming her knuckles over the silkiest skin on her abdomen, tracing the hour-glass shape of her sides.

Skye paid the touching forward, starting with strokes on Celene’s stomach, creeping upwards, focusing on the breast that wasn’t pressed between them.

“Pinch it,” Celene barely got out before occupying Skye’s mouth with her tongue. Getting what she wanted—Skye’s fingers latching and rolling her nipple—Celene traversed her hand down, underneath the bunched-up skirt. Craving more already.

But Skye abandoned Celene’s softness to halt the hand. “Uh uh. It’s my turn, greedy.”

Biting away a smirk, Celene grasped at Skye’s skirt, then guided it off a body lissome and soft and laden with skin she’d yet to kiss. “Where do you want me?”

“In your bed.”

Celene nipped at Skye’s bottom lip. “Mmm, that’s sexy. Say it again.”

Taking the reins, Skye gripped Celene’s chin, their stares connecting. In a raspier tone, she specified, “Your bed. I want pillows and sheets cushioning me while I’m lying between your legs…” She swallowed, reaching to squeeze Celene’s hip. “…devouring you.”

Bereft of all needs and wants but having Skye, Celene clawed her way up. “Show me what you can do.”

Before they could go any further, first came basic necessities.

One quick bathroom break later, Skye and Celene shared a glass of water sip by sip in under a minute. Replenishing solely to live. They spared another minute to laugh at their one-track minds.

Skye sighed at Celene in the light of dusk pooling into the bedroom, lamps unnecessary. She loved how Celene’s hair blended into the shadows, long strands out of place and perfect that way. Skye joined Celene on the bed. And, unable to hold it in, she whispered, “I miss you.”

“You missed me,” Celene corrected, amused and unquestionably relaxed.

“No.” She blinked away damp, frizzing fringe. “When you’re gone. Hell, when you’re in town and I’m away from you, I miss you.”

Celene spun an arm around Skye, nails strumming her backbone. “I always come back.” And skirting any misunderstanding, she said, “I miss you all the time, too.”

That was all Skye needed to hear. Capturing her lips in a sensuous kiss, she traveled to Celene’s neck, moaning at the intensity of the scent she associated with her.

She almost expected a ginger aftertaste as she tongued her skin in long, hungry sweeps.

Celene hissed low and fierce, angling for more.

A tantalizing display of assent to be touched, to be brought back to the brink.

Firming her voice, Skye went, “Lie down. Let me undress you.”

Then, miraculously, the woman who made executives cry tumbled onto the linens. Even her arms rose above, a display of trust as she watched Skye in her bareness, up and down.