Chasing a Brighter Blue, page 16
“Please…I’m begging you. End this already.”
Shelby’s knees pushed her legs farther apart and she moaned, thinking that—finally—Shelby would stop this slow, delicious torture.
“With my mouth,” Shelby said quietly. “I’ll end it with my mouth.”
Reagan thought she would surely melt right into the bed. She was trembling, and she couldn’t stop as Shelby moved slowly down her body, her kisses leaving her skin tingling as they passed over her.
I’ll end it with my mouth.
Reagan breathed deeply, fearing she would pass out. Shelby had been torturing her for what felt like hours. She had nearly climaxed four times, but each time, Shelby had pulled away at the last moment, making her wait. Apparently her wait was over as Shelby settled between her legs.
“Open.”
“Oh, God,” Reagan moaned, doing as Shelby requested.
Shelby cupped her hips, pausing only a second before lowering her head, her tongue slicing through her wetness. Reagan could feel herself throbbing, pulsing, and she squeezed her eyes shut, hoping to prolong this sweet, sweet pleasure. But Shelby’s mouth closed over her clit, taking it inside, suckling it like she’d done her nipple earlier. It was simply too much. Her hips rose off the bed almost violently as her world spun, pulling a scream from her as she held on to Shelby, squeezing her tightly as Shelby continued, her tongue now raking back and forth against her clit. To Reagan’s amazement—and disbelief—she felt another orgasm build. She let go, letting Shelby have her way. When Shelby’s tongue went inside her, in and out so quickly, Reagan hardly had time to thrust against her. But she didn’t need time. Her second orgasm came slow and sweet, and Shelby drew it out, so long that Reagan was nearly reduced to tears. Her hands fell limply to the bed, and she lay there, gasping for breath as Shelby left quiet kisses along her thighs, her stomach, her hips.
She couldn’t speak. She wanted to. She wanted to tell Shelby how wonderful it all was, how she’d never—ever—had two orgasms back-to-back before. She wanted to tell her that she was an amazing lover. She wanted to tell her all that and more…but she couldn’t speak. She couldn’t even open her eyes.
She felt Shelby move, felt her crawl up beside her, felt her cover them with the sheet and blanket, felt Shelby snuggle up next to her.
“Sleep now,” Shelby whispered.
“Mmm” was all she could manage to say.
* * *
Sunlight streamed in through the east-facing window, and Reagan turned away from it. She reached out for Shelby, but the bed was empty. She sat up, disappointed to find herself alone. Her phone was on the bedside table, she picked it up and her eyes widened. It was nearly ten. No wonder she was alone.
She didn’t remember waking during the night but knew that she had. She had visions of Shelby in her arms, visions of Shelby’s arms around her, visions of their legs tangled as they slept.
Visions of their lovemaking came back to her as well. She had simply passed out, falling into a blissful sleep…no dreams, no nightmares…no emptiness.
She tossed the covers off and swung her legs over the side of the bed, conscious of her nakedness. Her clothes were on a chair and she went to pick them up, finding a neatly folded note on them with her name scribbled across it.
She paused a second before grabbing it. In her experience, morning-after notes were never a good thing. She took a deep breath then flipped it open.
Feel free to use my shower if you like. I’ve gone to my parents’ suite. Another crisis to tend to. BTW…last night was fabulous. Will I see you again tonight? Please?
She grinned as she reread the note. “Yeah,” she said out loud, still smiling. “I could go for that.”
And another crisis? She hoped it wasn’t still about the damn bridesmaid dress.
She took a peek into the bathroom, finding it twice the size of her own. The shower was still damp, and she wondered how long ago Shelby had used it. She turned on the hot water, then adjusted it to warm as she stood under the spray. It was a nice, large shower, plenty big enough for two, she thought as she grabbed the soap. Her breasts still felt tender, and she remembered Shelby’s mouth on them, time and again, as she teased her with foreplay. God, it had been glorious. A slow torture, but still glorious. And she’d do it all over again.
Like maybe tonight.
Chapter Thirty-One
“So how’s the head?” she asked Stephanie, who was lying on the sofa in their parents’ suite, her eyes covered by an arm.
“Must you talk so loud?”
Shelby laughed. “Champagne headaches are the worst.” She nudged Stephanie’s legs out of the way and sat down. “So what’s up with Mother now?”
“Same.”
“The dress again?”
“Well, she’s relented, apparently. She’s agreed to let Reagan wear a tux as long as Bernie can ‘dress it up’…her words, not mine.”
“So after seeing Reagan in a tuxedo last night, she realized it wouldn’t be so bad after all?”
Stephanie lowered her arm. “You guys were so cute dancing together.”
“So you’ve said.”
“I think you should make a play for her.”
Shelby stared at her blankly. “A play? You said she wasn’t my type,” she reminded her.
“I didn’t think she was at first. But seeing the two of you together…perfect.”
Shelby hoped she wasn’t blushing. She hadn’t really had time to process everything that had happened. She’d slept in, finding herself still in Reagan’s arms. But an urgent call from her mother had roused her from the bed. She’d showered and dressed, but Reagan was still sound asleep. Instead of waking her, she’d left a short note. And now Stephanie wanted her to make a play for her. She didn’t know why, but she was hesitant to let Stephanie know that they were way past that point already.
“Well, we’ve become friends. I think that’s enough, don’t you?”
“I think you’re afraid of her.”
Thankfully, her mother, with Bernie in tow, interrupted their conversation. Her mother looked at her questioningly.
“Have you not called Reagan?”
Shelby frowned. “Was I supposed to?”
Her mother blew out an exasperated breath. “Must I do everything?”
Shelby stood up. “Must you make such a big deal out of this? It’s a tux. The one she had on last night looked very nice. Why does Bernie have to change it?”
“Well, it has to match your dress, for one thing,” she said. “We can’t have her dressed like the groomsmen, now can we?”
“I can use the same color and material for her vest as I did your dress,” Bernie said. “It’s a bright, Christmas blue. I thought we could do a white tuxedo instead of black.”
“With her dark hair, that would be pretty,” Stephanie chimed in.
Shelby held up her hands. “Why are you all trying to sell this to me? I’m not the one who has to wear it.”
“So call Reagan and ask her to come over,” Stephanie said.
“Actually, I don’t know her cell number. I don’t even know her room number,” she said truthfully.
“I’ll get her cell number from Josh,” Stephanie said as she picked up her phone. “And why don’t you have it?”
Shelby shrugged.
“I saw you dancing with Doug last night,” her mother said. “And their cousin Duke. He’s a nice boy too.”
Shelby stared at her. “Did you also see me dance with Reagan?”
The disapproval on her mother’s face was clear. “It was brought to my attention, yes. Must you be so obvious?”
“Obvious? You mean obvious that I’m gay?” She nodded. “Yes. Because you seem to have forgotten.”
Her mother walked across the room to the window and looked out upon Estes Park. “I don’t know what it would hurt for you to get to know Doug better. You never know. You might find that you like him, Shelby. He’s such a nice man.”
“I’m sure he is, Mother. But despite your hope that I might change…that I could change if I wanted to…it’s not going to happen.”
“You won’t even try. I don’t understand you sometimes.”
“Mother, we’ve been over this countless times. I’m a lesbian. I’m not interested in men. That’s not going to change.”
“I simply wish you would—”
Stephanie stood between them. “Mother, can you try to convert her after the wedding? I’ve got enough stress to deal with.”
Shelby smiled her thanks, then glanced at Bernie, who had been fidgeting with cloth samples, pretending that he wasn’t listening. She didn’t know why. He’d heard this same conversation many times before.
“I’ve got her number. Do you want to call her or should I?”
Shelby had a moment of panic. What if Reagan was still in bed? Her bed. Well, it wasn’t as if Stephanie would know whose bed she was in by a phone call.
“You can call her,” she said nonchalantly. Then, “But I will take her number. You know, in case I need it.”
Stephanie winked. “Sure,” she said before turning her attention to the phone. “Good morning, Reagan, it’s Stephanie. Josh gave me your number, I hope you don’t mind.” Stephanie smiled and nodded at something Reagan said before turning her back to them. “Can you come over to my parents’ suite?”
Shelby watched her mother and Bernie who were trying to listen. Stephanie lowered her voice enough that they could no longer make out the conversation. When she turned back around, she nodded.
“She’ll be right over. She’s just gotten out of the shower.”
Shelby turned away from Stephanie’s gaze, wondering if it was her shower Reagan had used. Of course that thought brought images of that very thing. She pictured Reagan standing naked in her shower, the water glistening as it ran down her body. She blinked several times, chasing the image away. It was suddenly very hot in the room. She went into the kitchen, finding a water bottle in the fridge. She held it up to Stephanie.
“Want one? It might help your headache.”
“Thank you, but the four ibuprofen I took are working their magic.”
“I don’t know why you girls drink so much,” their mother said. “It’s not ladylike.”
“Stress,” they said in unison.
She shook her head disapprovingly at them. “You got that from your father. I like to keep my life as stress-free as possible.”
Shelby nearly choked on her water. “Mother, you are the epitome of stress.”
She scoffed. “I have no idea what you mean. I don’t let things get to me. I don’t—”
“No. That’s because you project it onto everyone else,” she said. “Like this,” she said, motioning to Bernie. “The whole thing with Reagan and the dress or the tux. It’s driving us all crazy.”
Her mother actually looked offended. “I want the wedding to be perfect, that’s all.” She waved her hand in the air. “I hardly think that constitutes stress.”
“It constitutes stress for the rest of us,” Stephanie said. “But can we please move on? If Reagan doesn’t want a white tuxedo with the blue shirt, then fine. She can wear what she wore last night.”
“But—”
“Mother…it’s okay. It’s not going to ruin the wedding. And I speak for all of us when I say I’m sick of the drama over the bridesmaid dress.”
Shelby was impressed. It was the first time she could remember her sister actually talking back to her mother. Her mother seemed shocked as well.
“I see,” she said curtly.
Shelby glanced at Stephanie. “Should have eloped,” she mouthed to her.
Thankfully, a knock on the door ended this particular conversation, and her mother opened the door to Reagan. Reagan glanced around the room, her expression telling Shelby that she was very aware of the tension inside.
“Am I late?”
“No. Come in,” her mother said. “We were just discussing your…tuxedo.”
“Oh. And what conclusion did we come up with?”
Shelby walked over to her, meeting her gaze. She felt her pulse race as she remembered how they’d ended their night, but she pushed that away. For now.
“How do you feel about a white tux?” she asked.
“White?”
“With a blue vest to match Shelby’s dress,” Stephanie said. “I think it would be awesome.”
“White shirt,” Bernie said. “Blue tie, blue vest. No coat.”
Reagan looked at her. “What do you think?”
Shelby smiled. “I think you would look…very nice.”
“Why no coat, Bernie?” her mother asked.
“You don’t want a white coat to cover up the blue. Shelby will be in blue so you want Reagan to be as well.”
Reagan finally shrugged. “Okay. I’m game.”
Stephanie clapped. “Yay! Thank you!”
Reagan shoved her hands in her jeans pockets and Shelby recognized her nervousness. She made an effort to include everyone, but her question was really directed at Reagan.
“I missed breakfast and I’m starving. Anyone up for an early lunch?”
“You and Stephanie have a lunch date with my bridge club at noon,” her mother reminded her.
Shelby met Reagan’s eyes and silently groaned. Just what she wanted to do…visit with her mother’s friends.
“I forgot,” she said as she turned toward her mother. “Can’t wait.”
“Oh, and Reagan,” her mother said, “dinner tonight is Italian fare. Please remind your parents.”
“Of course. I’ll be sure to mention it.”
“We might not make it back in time though,” Shelby said, hoping Reagan would play along with her.
“Oh, that’s right,” Reagan said. “You were going to…show me…”
“Tour of the park,” she said with a smile. She then glanced at her mother. “I promised Reagan we would do a drive in the park this afternoon.” She shrugged. “Since the weather is good and all.”
Her mother—and Stephanie—eyed her suspiciously.
“Dinner is at seven. Surely you can make it.”
“Of course I’ll try, Mother,” she said. She turned again to Reagan. “I’ll call you after lunch and we’ll set up a time. Will that work for you?”
“Sure.” Reagan motioned to the door. “I guess I’m going to try to find Josh and see if he wants to do lunch.” Her lips twitched in a smile. “I’m starving,” she whispered.
Shelby smiled too and gave her a slight nod. “Have fun. See you this afternoon.”
As soon as she left, Stephanie walked over to her, eyebrows raised expectantly.
“What?” Shelby asked innocently.
“Didn’t you already do a tour of the park?”
“Not really,” she said. “We did a hike around Bear Lake one day and then the other evening, we went looking for elk.”
“Uh-huh.”
Shelby shrugged. “We’ve become friends. I thought that’s what you wanted.”
“Being friends with her is one thing,” her mother said. “Dancing is quite another.”
Shelby sighed. “Are we back on that again?”
“You’ve got to admit, Mother, they looked quite cute together last night,” Stephanie said.
Her mother scoffed. “Two women dancing. I’d hardly call that cute.”
Shelby held her hands up, signaling an end to the conversation. “I’m going to my room to change.”
Her mother nodded. “Good. I was hoping that wasn’t what you planned to wear to lunch. These ladies are—”
“I know who they are,” she said. “And I’ll dress appropriately.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
Reagan moved back up Shelby’s body slowly, taking her time. Shelby’s hand was running lazily through her hair, indecipherable sounds coming from her as Reagan nibbled her skin.
“If I were a cat, I’d be purring,” Shelby murmured.
“If you were a cat, you could have done that to yourself.”
Shelby laughed. “But it wouldn’t have been nearly as much fun.”
Reagan lay down on her side, watching Shelby. Her eyes were still closed, and a soft smile lingered on her face. She looked content and quite satisfied. Which, in turn, pleased Reagan. But she couldn’t stop touching. Her hand moved to Shelby’s breasts, her fingers teasing her nipples alternately.
“Your breasts are very sensitive,” she said.
“Yes.” Shelby rolled her head to the side, her eyes opening finally. “You’re an excellent lover.”
Reagan smiled quickly. “Excellent, huh? I’m a little out of practice.”
“Trust me, you’re not,” Shelby said. Her hand rested on Reagan’s hip, moving in tiny circles, lightly caressing. “I’m starving, by the way.”
“Oh, yeah? Your fancy lunch wasn’t enough for you?”
“A quiche with steamed veggies, no, and that was hours ago,” she said.
“If we hurry, we can still make your mother’s dinner,” she said. “Of course, we’d have to shower first.”
A slow, sexy smile appeared on Shelby’s face. “If we shower together, we’ll never make dinner.”
“What do you suggest?”
Shelby pushed her over and climbed on top, kneeling between her legs. “I vote for a shower,” she said. “I happen to have connections with the kitchen staff. I’m fairly certain I could get them to bring the leftover lasagna up here.” She wiggled her eyebrows. “What do you say?”
“Tempting.”
Shelby leaned down, kissing her slowly, thoroughly. “Tempting?” she murmured against her lips. “Is that a yes?”
“Yes.”
* * *
Reagan lifted the lid on the serving tray, her eyes widening. “Wow. Are we having company?”
“I told you I was starving,” she said, watching as Reagan stole a meatball from the tray.
“Are we going to get into trouble?”
“Because we missed dinner? Or because we lied about going to the park?”
“Either.”
“They’ll never know about the park, and yes, my mother will be annoyed that we missed dinner.” She took a plate and scooped out a section of lasagna, then added some of the pasta that was smothered in a pesto sauce. “And right now, I don’t care.”
