If she thinks she can come along and kiss me and everything will be all right, she has another…oh…more, please.
She moaned when Deborah’s kiss became more passionate, her lips moving on her own in a deep suction that had her growing damp. Unable to deny herself, she latched onto Deborah in a tight embrace until she pushed her hands under Deborah’s shirt and pulled on the tight nipples she’d once spent hours worshipping.
Deborah broke the kiss and rested her forehead on hers, panting deeply as she continued to caress her breasts.
“I’ve missed you so much,” Deborah said in a heated plea.
She licked her lips, ready to kiss Deborah again, when Deborah rubbed her thumb on her mouth.
“We need to talk before we love one another.”
Her hands shook as she moved back and pulled her hands through her hair. “Love?”
Deborah tilted her head and tugged down her shirt. “Yes-yes. I think so.”
You think so? She tapped her fingers on her hips. Deborah was right. They needed to lay everything on the table, so to speak.
“Sit, then. Would you like some pie?” She took the dish out of the refrigerator.
Deborah sat on a chair and folded her hands on her lap. “Sounds great. How about some of your homemade lemonade?”
She put the pie on the table and went to get plates and forks. “Sorry, no lemonade. I only make it in the summer. But I have iced tea.”
“Iced tea would be great,” Deborah responded.
After she served Deborah, she didn’t eat or drink anything, just watched her eat. The way Deborah’s tongue came out and licked away the juice from the pie almost made her excuse herself to go to the bathroom to masturbate. She could barely sit still with Deborah so near. But she held back. She wanted explanations, and, until she got them, she wouldn’t receive any relief, or give any in return.
“You’ve gained more weight,” she said and quickly covered her mouth.
Deborah’s eyes went wide, and she set her fork on the table.
Oh shit. “Deb, I didn’t mean it the way it sounded. You look great and healthy, glowing, actually—”
“I no longer look like a grasshopper with an alien head?” Deborah asked in a wry voice and drank from her glass.
Her face warmed and she chugged her drink. “I wouldn’t say that, but when I met you…you did look too skinny, at least to me.”
Deborah stared at her lap. “Gen once called me an ugly-looking grasshopper during one of our fights. When I met her I weighed more. She made me go on a diet and start exercising. When I lost too much weight, she wasn’t happy about that, either.”
Her hands clenched, wishing she could strangle the dead woman who’d destroyed Deborah’s self-esteem and given her years of misery that would likely stay with her forever. “Why don’t you tell me what you’ve been up to since you’ve been gone?” She purposely changed the subject.
Deborah grimaced. “The aftermath of Gen’s death has been exhausting. The reporters were vicious, and I had to hire extra security while I stayed at her estate. Her lawyers have been extremely helpful with her assets and her will. She left everything to me.”
“How much are you worth?” Bridgette asked bluntly.
“At least fifty million. Most of it is in stocks and bonds. But the cash I have available is very generous. I ended up getting it all, the properties, the cars, even stock in her company. But the board of directors wants to buy me out. I’m thinking of doing that. Also, I’m donating the house in Peyote Springs to an organization that helps abused women.”
“That’s wonderful,” she said, not amazed by Deborah’s generosity.
“What I have now is way too much. I want to help others stuck in abusive relationships who feel they can’t get free.” Deborah folded her hands on her lap. “The two people who helped me and once worked for Gen are safe in Mexico. I asked them to work for me. Gilberto, the one who put his life on the line to help me escape, may come back. I wanted to give him more money as a thank you, but he refuses to accept anything.”
“You’re incredible, Deb.” She held out her hand across the table, silently urging Deborah to take it.
“No, I’m not.” Deborah glanced up and shook her head. “I’m donating the house for my own selfish reasons. I can’t live there with all the bad memories.”
She nodded in agreement. “That makes sense.” She flexed her fingers. Take my hand. “You’re planning on living somewhere else?”
“Yes. There’s nothing left for me in Nevada. It was so uncomfortable during Gen’s funeral with the stares and the whispering. Then, a few days after, the police came to me and said they found the body of a man in the river. He was a private detective known for locating missing people. They think she killed him since he disappeared after he told a business associate he was meeting with her.”
“She was really deranged.” She winced. “I’m sorry for saying that.”
“It’s okay.” Deborah then did what Bridgette had been waiting for. She linked their fingers together. She found she could breathe easier.
“Where are you thinking of moving?” She hoped Deborah would stay in Woodberry Creek.
“I’d like to move here since I know the area pretty well. The hospital in the next town is in desperate need of nurses, and they have a great staff of therapists who specialize in domestic abuse. I have an interview with one of the doctors there for next week.”
“That’s great!” She waited for her to go on, but Deborah remained silent until she stood and put her hands in her pockets.
“Um, right now I’m staying in the motel near the train station. I would stay in my house I’ve rented here since I have three more months on the lease, but…it doesn’t feel right to live there since Gen was killed inside. Would it be okay if I stayed with you until I found a new place to live?”
She forgot about her hurt and fear at Deborah walking away from her all those months ago. She jumped up and walked around the table. “Yes! You’re more than welcome to stay with me.”
Deborah looked right in her eyes for the first time since she had met her. When she dipped down to kiss her, she welcomed her by opening her mouth and sighing in relief.
Deborah pulled out the chair and sat back with Bridgette on her lap. With hungry kisses, they tasted each other frantically, their hands on one another until Rotquel nuzzled her way in between them. They broke apart, breathless and panting.
“Rotquel can’t seem to get enough of you, either. She adores you like I do.” She lay her head on Deborah’s shoulder.
“And I adore you both.” Deborah tilted her face toward hers. “We have so much to talk about and you’re probably still upset at me—”