Whipped, page 20
“What do you think I was like in high school?” Cheyenne asked as she pushed the empty dish away from her and rested
her chin in her palm.
Erica took her time finishing her last few bites while she considered the question. “Did you ever see the movie Election? It might have been before your time.”
Cheyenne narrowed her eyes. “I’m not that much younger than you, you know. Of course I’ve seen that movie. Are you calling me a crazed Reese Witherspoon?”
“She wasn’t crazy. She was the hero who fought for what was right when Matthew Broderick tried to screw her over.
Plus, it was the relentlessly peppy part I was thinking most about,” Erica clarified.
Cheyenne’s jaw dropped in exaggerated offense.
“Relentlessly peppy?”
Erica shrugged one shoulder. “If the penny loafer fits.”
Instead of getting upset, Cheyenne laughed. “I bet we would have been friends in high school,” she decided unexpectedly.
“Is that right? Do you think we would have played soccer together? Been teammates?” Erica’s stomach flutters returned as she realized she would’ve liked to have known her then. To know what a different upbringing could have been like.
“Well, I still have the crazy mom. Piano was king. No sports. No extracurriculars. But maybe you would’ve sat behind me in AP English and tried to copy off me.”
Erica threw her head back and fake laughed. “Me?” She held her good hand to her chest. “Please, it would be you trying to cheat off me.”
“You think so?” Cheyenne raised a brow. “I’m not so sure about that. With all those activities I have you in, I don’t think you have enough time to study.”
“I don’t require much sleep,” she countered, protective of the imaginary teen version of herself. “I can run the school and read The Iliad.”
After a moment of silence, Cheyenne nodded. “Yeah, you’re right. I can see that.”
Sliding off the stool, Erica took their bowls to the sink.
“I can do that,” Cheyenne said, coming up behind her.
“You should go rest your wrist,” she added, trying to bump Erica out of the way with her hip to gain access to the sink.
“What do you think this is for?” Erica countered, looking down at her sling. “You’ve done enough.”
Accepting her wishes, Cheyenne left the kitchen to check on Tilly. As Erica awkwardly washed up with one hand, she constantly reminded herself to stop smiling.
It shouldn’t be so effortless to talk to Cheyenne over breakfast like they’d done it a hundred times before. She shouldn’t be so easy to be with. Ignoring the flutter in her stomach, Erica focused on her task and chalked her feelings up to enjoying the company in her usually silent house. An even more troubling realization the more she considered it.
CHAPTER 32
THE LAST TWO bottles of wine in Erica’s reserves sat empty on the kitchen counter while a tipsy Cheyenne stood in the shower letting freezing water cascade over her overheated body. After a full day spent trying to MacGyver their way out of their fortress, she was ready for the temporary relief from the heat.
When Erica suggested they get to bed after crushing the last of the merlot, Cheyenne happily agreed. It was only once she was washing her hair under the stream that she realized how quickly they’d gotten accustomed to their new life.
Talking about going to bed together like it was the most normal thing in the world.
Cheyenne rinsed conditioner out of her hair and thought about how Erica was making do when she bathed. She imagined her struggling to shampoo her hair. At least it was short, but it would be easier for Erica if she accepted her help.
Using the razor she’d borrowed from Erica’s medicine cabinet, Cheyenne imagined Erica’s smooth leg propped up on the teak stool in the shower. What would she say if Cheyenne slipped into the bathroom to help?
Cheyenne’s tipsy mind wandered away from her. In her thoughts, she kneeled in front of Erica’s nude form. Free from any pretense, Erica sat at the far end of the shower, her tall, strong figure splayed on the stool, her upper body resting against the tiled wall as she watched Cheyenne. Beckoned her closer.
She obeyed the silent command emanating from Erica’s dark eyes. Moving away from the icy stream, she sauntered forward like a jaguar, making a show of being on her hands and knees.
Erica’s stoic face remained hard and unchanging, but her eyes darkened and her thighs parted just a little. Just enough for Cheyenne to get a sneak peek of what awaited her. Desire and hunger mixed low in Cheyenne’s belly, pulling at her hard and willing her to spring forward. She resisted. Erica wouldn’t want over-eager. She would want the game just as much as she did.
When Cheyenne’s splayed palms reached the space between Erica’s parted feet she stopped.
“What do you plan to do now?” Erica’s voice was dark and husky. It betrayed her. Showed that she wanted Cheyenne just as much as she wanted her.
Cheyenne took her time letting her gaze reach Erica’s dark stare. Taking in every inch of bare skin as she did.
Putting on the most innocent and naive affectation she could manage, Cheyenne made her eyes wide as she bit her lip as if uncertain. She knew exactly what she wanted, but it was part of the game.
“I don’t know, Ms. Torres,” she whispered, locking Erica in her gaze.
“You don’t know?” She echoed, her face alive with desire while her voice sounded as cold as it did when they first started working together. It sent a hot rush pulsating through Cheyenne’s wet body. “You’ve started something, and you don’t know why?”
Cheyenne dropped her eyes, looking embarrassed as her face flushed. It didn’t matter that the heat was for an altogether different reason. Erica’s lip twitched, making Cheyenne’s heart race. Realizing that Erica was going to break first was an unexpected thrill.
“Maybe if you teach me,” Cheyenne suggested sweetly.
This time, Erica’s skin flushed red. Not just her face, but her neck and chest too. Just as Erica’s mouth opened to speak and her legs fully parted, Cheyenne was catapulted out of her fantasy.
“Ow, shit,” she cursed as a stream of blood poured from her knee. In her distraction she’d cut herself shaving. “Motherf
—” She bit her bottom lip for real to hold in the curse.
That’s what I get for taking a mental vacation while shaving by candlelight.
With her illusion ruined, she finished her task and got out of the shower. They were starting to run out of Erica’s tiny shorts, fresh ones anyway, so she opted for underwear and a tank top. It’s not like they could see each other in the pitch dark.
“I thought you were going to sleep in there,” Erica said as soon as Cheyenne opened the door and blew out the candle she’d been using for light.
Propped up on pillows on her side of the bed, Erica had ditched the shorts for a long t-shirt. Great minds.
“I thought about it,” Cheyenne admitted as she dried her hair with a towel and padded toward the bed.
The lantern’s batteries had started running out and they’d decided to use candles when they weren’t a fire hazard.
Cheyenne hadn’t expected that Erica in bed with nothing but the soft glow to illuminate her body would be so devastating.
“If nothing else, this experience has given me a newfound appreciation for air conditioning,” Erica agreed.
Cheyenne nodded, trying to get the imaginary shower version of Erica out of her head so she could look her in the face. Spreading the damp towel on the rack, Cheyenne made a joke to ease the tension building in her stomach. “Make sure you send me your water bill so I can pay half.”
As Cheyenne walked back to the bed, Erica tucked her good arm behind her head, showing off the pronounced curve of her bicep. “And the wine replacement,” she added dryly.
Cheyenne laughed. “Don’t worry. I’ll pay you back with interest.”
Erica flashed a brief smirk. Those had been happening with increasing regularity. Maybe Erica was having a strangely good time with her in captivity too.
Slipping onto her side of the bed, Cheyenne didn’t bother covering herself with the blanket. She wanted to relish the sensation of being relatively cool after her shower. It only ever lasted a few minutes.
Cheyenne’s wine-soaked brain wandered as soon as Erica blew out the candle. The combination of liquid courage and utter darkness loosened her tongue.
“Your ex is really shitty for having left you,” Cheyenne confessed, turning on her side. It was weird not to face her while they talked even if they couldn’t see each other.
“What?” Erica snapped, obviously caught off guard by the comment.
“She should have appreciated your ambition and drive,”
Cheyenne decided. “Sure, you’re a frosty, remote hard ass sometimes. Or, well, almost all the time. But you’re great, too, in your own way. A fancy acquired taste. Like escargot or some elegant blue cheese.”
After a long pause, Erica laughed. A full, deep throated chuckle. “Do you think that entire backhanded compliment will fit on my tombstone?”
“I’m serious. Don’t deflect.” Cheyenne tried to sound more authoritative. “If someone can’t see you for who you are, they don’t deserve you.”
“Thank you, Oprah. I’ll keep that in mind,” she replied, obviously unwilling to connect.
With a disappointed sigh, Cheyenne turned onto her back.
She wouldn’t keep pushing the issue.
She’d nearly drifted off to sleep when Erica’s soft voice broke the perfect silence. “For what it’s worth, your ex was also rather shitty.” Erica took a deep breath as if uttering the
words to life required the use of her entire body. “You’re a good person, Cheyenne. You have a good heart. I was convinced it was an act at first, and then I thought it was naivety,” she confessed. “But I’ve realized it takes quite a bit of strength to be so kind.”
Cheyenne opened and closed her mouth several times, feeling not unlike a fish gasping for breath on the foreign terrain of a dock. “I’m sorry I compared you to moldy cheese.
I meant it as a compliment,” was what she finally decided on.
After a beat, Erica’s hand gently slid over Cheyenne’s unsuspecting wrist. “I know. Thank you.”
The soft words and even softer touch caused Cheyenne’s chest to seize. Moments passed while Cheyenne struggled to decide how to respond. How to keep Erica’s hand on hers.
In her stunned indecision, Erica started to retreat.
Cheyenne couldn’t let her go a second time. There was no telling if she’d ever have another moment like this.
While nothing but Erica’s fingertips were trailing over her forearm as she withdrew, Cheyenne took definitive action. She jerked her hand, catching Erica and lacing their fingers together.
For a terrifying moment there was only stillness and Erica’s rigid fingers in hers. Cheyenne’s heart raced out of her chest and tried to escape through her mouth.
Then, Erica relaxed. As if giving in to a gentle current, Erica slid her hand forward, getting a better grip as she laced their fingers together.
Cheyenne hadn’t felt so much exhilaration from holding someone’s hand since she and Jenny Lima sat together on the bus during a seventh-grade field trip. It was electric and thrilling.
Capitalizing on her bravery and the fortune of the moment, Cheyenne rolled onto her side. The vanilla scent of Erica’s skin and the warmth of her breath invaded her senses. She didn’t need to see to know that she was close to her mouth.
“Do you want me to?” Cheyenne whispered when their sudden proximity caused Erica to grip her hand painfully tight.
Silence, heavy and electric with the uncertainty of leaping off a rooftop without a net, was Erica’s immediate reply.
Cheyenne rubbed her thumb over Erica’s probably ghost-white knuckle. She was going to tell her it was okay and slip away to the living room; she couldn’t lay next to her after making a fool of herself, but Erica only gripped her tighter. What she wouldn’t give to know what she was thinking. To understand what frightened her so badly about this.
The bed creaked beneath Erica as she shifted. After another squeeze, she released her hand. Cheyenne’s heart sank.
She’d taken a swing knowing the likelihood of missing.
“Don’t talk so much,” Erica said, propping herself up on her good arm and leaning in.
Cheyenne’s heart raced in triple time as Erica’s warm breath landed on her cheek. Unsure which one of them had moved to close the gap, Cheyenne found Erica’s forehead with her own.
“Consent is sexy, Erica,” she shot back with a smirk, her lips hovering just above Erica’s mouth as she propped herself up on her elbow and Erica instinctually rolled onto her back.
Erica’s eye roll was audible, but Cheyenne kept herself just out of kissing reach. Craning her neck, Erica grazed her bottom lip. The slight contact was a million volts rocking Cheyenne off kilter.
Groaning in frustration, Erica tried again, but Cheyenne was quicker, keeping herself a breath away from contact. The anticipation was painful, but Cheyenne hungered for the moment of control over the indomitable woman.
“Yes,” Erica’s groan was a pained whisper brought to life against Cheyenne’s chin. “I want to.”
Licking her lips, Cheyenne relaxed her body, letting herself sink down. When she ran the tip of her tongue over Erica’s full bottom lip, Erica gasped. She’d no doubt been expecting some chaste little kiss. Cheyenne didn’t blame her.
Erica probably had no idea how many times she’d pictured a moment like this.
Groaning, Erica darted up, capturing Cheyenne’s bottom lip and kissing her so deeply, it leeched the strength from Cheyenne’s muscles. The faint traces of wine on her lips made her drunk. Snaking her arm around Cheyenne, she caught her just as she collapsed onto her side.
Even one-handed, Erica exerted effortless control. Holding her so close Cheyenne worried about accidentally bumping against her sling. Erica groaned as her tongue pushed past her lips over and over as if she’d been starving and Cheyenne finally offered her nourishment.
Cheyenne’s head spun. Disconnecting from her body, from the mugginess of the room. From their history. Nothing but Erica’s ardent kiss existed. If this was where all her heat went, no wonder Erica was always so cold. There couldn’t be any fire left after this.
With her heart racing, Cheyenne matched Erica’s frenzied tempo. She was starving too; she just hadn’t known it until Erica woke something dormant.
Running her fingers through Erica’s damp hair, Cheyenne gripped the back of her neck and kissed her more deeply still, as if she needed to consume her before time ran out.
Erica must have felt the same pressure of the ticking bomb because she hooked her leg around Cheyenne’s thigh, closing any remaining space between them. With her hand holding firm to the small of Cheyenne’s back, Erica pressed her closer.
The moment Erica’s bare thigh slipped between her legs, Cheyenne moaned. With purposeful movements, Erica moved her thigh and hand. The more Cheyenne rocked rhythmically against her, the wetter the thin fabric of her underwear grew against her skin.
Could Erica feel it too? Did she want to know for herself just how wet she was? The thought sent more pulses of heat racing through Cheyenne’s body.
Cheyenne’s mouth slipped from Erica’s swollen lips onto her neck. Using her teeth, Cheyenne marked her hard as she trailed down to her collarbone. Instead of complaining, Erica slid her open palm down Cheyenne’s back before grabbing her ass hard and digging her blunt nails into her soft flesh.
Cursing, Cheyenne dropped her head, resting her forehead against Erica’s chest while unabashedly writhing on the top of Erica’s thigh.
“Kiss me,” Erica demanded, her fingers slipping under the side of Cheyenne’s underwear and kneading her hard as they inched closer to where she was dripping with desire.
With her body trembling, Cheyenne obeyed. Her kiss was hard and messy as arousal clouded her mind and took control of her motor functions. As if willing her to regain control, Erica bit her bottom lip and pulled until Cheyenne winced.
“I said kiss me,” Erica repeated with the same impatient tone she used at work.
Pulsing desire threatened to tear Cheyenne apart at the seams. Erica’s corrections didn’t usually have this effect on her, but in this context, they were thrilling.
Trying to forget how close Erica was to where she needed to be touched, Cheyenne focused on Erica’s lips. Taking the full bottom one between hers, Cheyenne kissed her again.
Slow and sultry, she alternated between teasing her and kissing her deeply.
Erica’s approving moans vibrated into Cheyenne’s mouth and reverberated throughout her body. Still holding herself up on one shaky elbow, Cheyenne used her free hand to find the hem of Erica’s tank top.
Her belly was warm and tight as her muscles contracted under Cheyenne’s touch. As she inched toward her chest, Erica’s breathing became more ragged.
Erica groaned in pain when Cheyenne forgot about her wrist in a sling and tried to move under it to continue her advance.
“Shit. I’m sorry,” Cheyenne cried, jerking up to get off her.
“It’s fine. It’s fine. Don’t stop,” Erica begged. Not demanded. Begged.
With a smirk, Cheyenne dove in again, this time returning to Erica’s neck instead of her lips. She wanted to hear her moans as she touched her.
“Tell me again,” Cheyenne whispered against the column of Erica’s long neck. “Tell me you don’t want me to stop,” she explained as she moved more carefully around her abdomen to avoid her wrist.
Erica didn’t respond. When Cheyenne reached the soft underside of her full breast, Erica’s breath hitched.
“Tell me,” Cheyenne insisted again as she ran her fingertips lightly over the soft skin turning to goosebumps.
Reaching the stiff peak of Erica’s nipple, Cheyenne stopped.
“Don’t stop,” Erica moaned, and Cheyenne imagined her head thrown back and her mouth open. “Please,” she added in what was almost a whine.
