“Oh, Bridgette.” She spread her lover’s legs wider apart, reached in between her legs, and scraped her short nails on the inside of her thighs, enjoying the goose bumps rising on her skin. A nice coating of juice coated her fingers, and she dipped her head down to lick the fluid away.
When Bridgette stiffened, and she cried out loudly, Deborah closed her eyes and allowed her release to overtake her. She panted on Bridgette’s waxed, somewhat bristly puss, and fell to the side so not to crush her.
A crack of lightning lit up the room while she wheezed loudly. She rolled on her back, her legs and feet near Bridgette’s. Her eyes were closed, her face damp with her sweat. She felt incredible!
“Bridgette?” Deborah knelt beside her. She untied her arms and rubbed her muscles.
“Hm, that’s nice.” Bridgette’s eyes flickered open and she yawned loudly.
“You came.”
“You did also.” Bridgette winced and sat up.
“The bathroom is down the hall.” Deborah glanced at her lap, not sure what to do next.
Bridgette climbed off. When a hand landed on her shoulder, she lifted her head. Bridgette’s face was within kissing distance and she leaned forward, but the redhead rested a finger on her lips.
“Hold that thought.” Bridgette ruffled her hair and left the room.
She lay down and closed her eyes. She couldn’t move even if she wanted to, and she lightly dozed as the rain and thunder went on around her. Her whole body hummed and she couldn’t stop smiling, licking her lips drying with Bridgette’s release. When the bed dipped, she rolled to her back.
“Here, drink.” Bridgette held out a glass of water.
She drank and then handed it back to Bridgette and rubbed her heavy eyelids. This was a first for her. Sex usually made her tense and edgy. Or had when she was with—
“Feeling okay?” Bridgette brushed the hair away from her forehead and moved around until she was curved behind her.
“Yes. That was…amazing.” She nestled down and rested her arm on her hip.
“I know it was. I’m good.” Bridgette nipped her ear.
She snorted and took her hand. “Stay with me for a while?” She squeezed Bridgette’s fingers, hoping she would.
“You can bet I will. I’m not going anywhere. I’ll watch over you while you sleep, sweet Deborah.”
She smiled softly and drifted away, feeling safe in Bridgette’s embrace.
* * * *
Bridgette waited until Deborah slept before she got up from the bed. The storm had lessened to a drizzle and the room had cooled enough, she arranged the sheet over Deborah. Placing a soft kiss on her brow, she got dressed and went back to her house. She checked in on Rotquel, who waited by the front door, and let her outside in the backyard to relieve herself while she grabbed her pencils and drawing pad. When Rotquel finished, she filled her food bowl then went back to her Deborah.
Instead of joining her dozing lover in bed, she sat at the window seat next to the lamp she turned on, and watched Deborah, who slept on her side, facing her.
She was struck by how beautiful and peaceful Deborah looked in the muted darkness as the late afternoon fell into evening. The sheet had fallen around her hips where her breasts were on display, her nipples now flat and dormant, along with her feet peeking out. She would’ve pulled the sheet off but didn’t want to disturb her. She placed her drawing pad on her lap and traced an outline that would eventually become a figure.
She lost herself in her drawing, and of Deborah, who remained asleep until she moved on her stomach and hid her face in the pillow. She moaned, and her leg twitched. She put the pad down at the exact time Deborah cried out and sat up, shaking and covering her mouth.
“Deb, what is it?” Bridgette sat on the bed and drew her in her arms.
She hid her face in the crook of Bridgette’s neck, sniffed loudly, and groaned. She cupped the back of her head and rocked her until Deborah came fully awake.
Finally, she lifted her head but kept her arms around Bridgette’s hips. She leaned back on the headboard and caressed the side of Deborah’s face with her finger. Deborah kissed the inside of her palm.
“I had a nightmare. It’s the same one I have most nights, where some shadow comes out of nowhere and slashes my throat.” Deborah covered her own throat and her lips trembled. “The last thing I remember before I wake up crying is my head being cut off my body.”
“Maybe your fears are entering your dreams. Did you have these nightmares in Nevada?” she asked.
Deborah pulled away and sat up. She combed her fingers through her hair. “Never. I barely dreamed at all. I usually passed out exhausted afterward.”
Bridgette kept from laughing at the noticeable blush staining Deborah’s cheeks. Sex never made her tired but quite the opposite. A short sting in the middle of her chest made her grimace. Knowing Deborah’s psycho wife had given her such pleasure to the point she passed out made her less than happy—perhaps even jealous.
“I guess I’ll have to try harder to make sure you’re too tired from all the orgasms I give you that you won’t be able to dream.” She ignored the tightening in her chest. She took Deborah’s chin in a light grasp and kissed her. Deborah’s lips moved slowly on her own. She lay on the bed and, still kissing Deborah, laid her down.
Deborah broke the kiss and rested her cheek on her shoulder. “How long have I been sleeping?”
“A few hours.” She kissed Deborah’s forehead.
Deborah exhaled softly and laid her palm on Bridgette’s breast. Her body had started to respond to the seemingly innocent touch when Deborah squinted her red-rimmed eyes.
“Is that your drawing pad next to the window?”
She nodded. “Yup. I couldn’t sleep and went back to my house to get my pad and pencils. I drew you while you slept.”
Deborah tilted her face down and hid under Bridgette’s arm. “You drew me drooling and snoring?”
A loud laugh escaped her mouth, and she turned on her side. Deborah did the same and tangled their legs together.
“You’re so beautiful and peaceful sleeping.” She brushed her lips on Deborah’s, only to keep them still for a moment then letting go.
“You have a great way with words.” She rubbed one of Bridgette’s curls between her fingers.
She wanted to tell Deborah how special she thought her to be but held back since she had issues with that description, thanks to her bitch of a wife.
“Now who’s the one thinking too hard?” She swiped her finger down Bridgette’s cheek.
“It looks like we both have a lot of things on our minds,” she said, noticing the lines straining Deborah’s forehead.
“I was thinking how when I was little and woke up scared in the middle of the night, my mom would lie next to me in my bed just as you’re doing now.”