Ladies Who Love: An Erotica Collection. Elizabeth Coldwell
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on skin. She wants to think about Jeanne tending to her, but now Jeanne’s flicking off the dryer and lowering it away. In the abrupt silence, she can hear the pounding of her heart in time to the insistent throbbing between her legs.
Jeanne cups her palm around her nape, squeezing gently. Lila gasps, tilting her head back immediately to deepen the touch. Jeanne indulges her with a few final strokes, then releases the lock on the chair and spins it around, so Lila’s facing into the main room. After the intimacy of being trapped between Jeanne’s warm body and her own reflection, the open space is jarring.
Jeanne holds up a small hand-mirror. When Lila doesn’t move, still punch-drunk, she prompts, ‘Give me your hand.’ It’s not a request.
Underneath the cape, Lila’s right hand is slippery with her own arousal. With her left, she reaches for the mirror, trying to muster attention from her lust-crazed mind.
Her new haircut is short; cropped into a slanting little bob that flirts with her jaw and gives her cheekbones she’s never noticed before. She looks sassy. She looks sexy. ‘I love it,’ Lila breathes. But even more, Lila loves that she’s been colluding with this woman – a virtual stranger – to objectify her own body. She sets the mirror aside. ‘Thank you.’
‘Thank you for indulging me.’ Jeanne leans very close, like they might kiss. Instead, she flips aside the cape and stares down at Lila’s lap, at the flush across her thighs and the white-knuckled pressure of her thumb still pressing beneath her knickers.
The cape drops to the floor. Jeanne folds herself after it, crouching down before her. Lila gasps when Jeanne’s fingers finish opening her trousers. She’s built straight up and down rather than with Jeanne’s luscious curves, and it’s the work of moments for Jeanne to ease the fabric down over her hips and away.
‘You’re –’ there’s a little crack in the word, a tremor from Jeanne that lets Lila know she’s not alone in this ‘– even more stunning than I thought you’d be.’
Jeanne tilts fully into Lila’s space, blue eyes intent and darkened by sex. She surges forward to take her mouth and the touch of lips on lips is messy, chaotic and incredible. Jeanne tastes like chocolate. Her lashes flutter and close, and they’re cuts of amber over the shadowed cream skin beneath her eyes. There are faint freckles too. Lila notices them in the hazy moment before the sensations from the soft tongue stroking into her mouth smudge out all other thought.
The kiss goes on – wet and slippery, all-absorbing – until Lila becomes dimly aware that Jeanne is sliding her shears up, up, up her splayed thigh. She jerks away from the kiss as she feels the blunt outer edge of the blade furrowing her skin as it goes.
Jeanne asks, ‘How much do you like your knickers?’
Lila is barely breathing from excitement. Across the room, the ornate mirrors reflect her desire back at her, amplifying it a thousand times. ‘Do it. Please.’
The blades open, slicing through the lace; Jeanne moves with exquisite care to do the same to the other side.
Lila spreads her legs as wide as she can as Jeanne yanks the knickers free. Setting the shears aside, she rubs her fingertips across the path of the blades until Lila’s sense-memory is overwhelmed by the new stimulation. There are little work calluses on her hands and they catch against Lila’s smoother skin. Heavy waves of her red hair frame her face. She’s unbearably hot and, for Lila, the rush of completely giving herself over to this woman is dizzying.
‘Come here, that’s it.’ Jeanne urges Lila’s legs up, encouraging her ankles to droop across her shoulders so that she’s revealed to her liking.
Lila knows her own body well. She knows what she will look like to Jeanne, with her plump pussy dusted with coppery curls and her eager clit already flushed with blood and peeping from its hood. From this angle, she can see Jeanne absorbing all this new knowledge. Learning her. Lila was drawn to her competence from the start, loved the way it radiated from her and turned to blatant sexual energy between them. Now she’s on fire with wanting more.
‘I’m going to lick you. I want to taste you. Let me?’ Jeanne’s tongue darts out over her lips.
Lila whines, already anticipating the feel of it. ‘Don’t tease …’
In simple answer, Jeanne opens her luscious mouth against her.
Lila’s hips judder in shock but Jeanne holds her steady, curling her fingers into the flesh of her bum to keep her right where she’s wanted. Her tongue curls, too, sliding across already slick flesh before fully exploring Lila’s exposed folds. It’s overstimulation of the best kind, amplifying her need into an inarticulate shout that echoes in the empty salon.
Jeanne draws back, her mouth glistening and amused. ‘What if people come in and hear you?’
Lila lets her head fall back against the edge of the chair. Her eyes flutter shut as the edge of a fingernail tickles before her inner thigh is soothed by a damp kiss. ‘I’ll tell them I really recommend that shampoo.’
The answering laugh turns to more kisses. More and more, until they all blend into one intimate, open-mouthed kiss. This onslaught of tongue and lips and suction ceases only when Jeanne needs to breathe; even then, she rubs her cheeks against Lila’s thighs, like she doesn’t want to stop touching her even through her heavy panting.
Come and saliva slick her pussy and thighs. Now there are delicate fingers pressing just inside her, making her desperate for more. Her clit feels stiff and huge. Jeanne is lavishing her attention on the nub, tickling it and teasing it with the tip of her tongue before sealing her mouth over it to suck. She backs off again only to repeat the entire process. It’s amazing, all of it; Lila’s finding it impossible to process, she’s blindingly aroused. Her thighs quiver as her hands tangle in the soft fall of Jeanne’s hair. She bucks, wanting more contact directly on, in, her pussy, but Jeanne doesn’t give it to her. She just keeps sucking at her clit with rhythmic bursts of pressure that send Lila thrashing and wild.
Lila fists Jeanne’s hair, yanking roughly. Jeanne ignores it. She sucks, and Lila surges over the cliff of her orgasm. Pleasure wracks her body. Jeanne’s tongue strokes roughly across her trembling pussy, coaxing more aftershocks, until Lila cries out.
‘Enough, enough –’
Jeanne pulls away and wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. Her expression is indulgent as she shifts off her knees and stands. ‘Mmm. Just relax for me for a moment.’
Lila bonelessly obeys, her legs falling without Jeanne to hold her up.
It’s only a matter of minutes, however, before Jeanne returns. If Lila’s feverish brain is expecting anything, it’s a towel and some clean-up. What she’s definitely not expecting is the heavy slap of the back of a hairbrush across her bare thigh. Rather than rattling her out of her post-orgasmic haze, the thrilling shock of it rockets her into desire once more again.
The brush bristles look like they will scratch against thin tender skin. She thinks for a strung-out moment that Jeanne will do it. She tenses.
‘Ease back, love. Not today.’
Lila stares at the hairclips that Jeanne has carelessly stowed on the low-cut collar of her dress. She looks at their clamping teeth then down at the erect nipples distorting her own blouse.
‘Next time?’
A low chuckle as Jeanne hitches Lila’s legs back up into position.
Lila’s so wet that the handle of the hairbrush – smooth, thick, tapered – slides inside her immediately. She clamps around it instinctively, so tight that Jeanne murmurs as she tries to stroke it deeper.
‘Shh. Let me fuck this into you.’ There’s a bead of perspiration on Jeanne’s temple and hectic colour high on her cheeks. ‘Give me the rest of your cream, because I know you have more for me.’
Jeanne’s fingers flex against the brush and Lila’s